viAte v-TToel THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2008 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/florenceinpoetryOOryanrich ^^^'''"'1.^; ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^HjHijf ' ^vrr^wS'lW '\ ^B|ii3^' 7 "' ^^B'< <'iviir- f' i ff|j.' ^ fep H^vi^^H^^^^^^^^H "Tforence eJ InR)etri By Sara Agnes Ryan Illustrated CHICAGO The Mayer and Miller Company 1Q13 ^M\b -U^ Copyright, 1913, By Sara Agnes Ryan. Copyrighted in the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland and in all countries signatory to the Berlin Convention. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED, INCLUDING THE RIGHTS OF TRANSLATION. ^nmth ^iavtntt, fair to sec, W^tst pocta tea£rc ll|Btr trthute ^nto a aro6m far i{\tt, Wcit^ prmsc tl]^ stately bBaitl^, (Anh geittg irf art bt6m;e, — ®l|^ treaaur^h stor^ ijf ages, ^ah^ rtrljer far bg tmis — ©ijs aptrtts ijo^'rht^ near tl^ee O^f great nneg gone before, ^nh Btng tn Itxftg eahence ®% glorg e6enitore* THE AUTHORS QUOTED IN THE TEXT. Joseph Addison, 238 Luigi Alamanni, 99 John Albee, 328 Michael Angelo, 64, 174, 179- 185 Edwin Arnold, 236 Alfred Austin, 95, 201, 346 Anne Bannerman, 99 St. Bonaventura, 27 Pope Boniface VHI., 46 Boccaccio, 68, 104 Robert B. Brough, 118 Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 36, 39, 40, 65, 74, 87, 142, 172, 201, 214, 256, 336, 337 Robert Browning, 20, 43, 44, 81, 146, 243, 250, 262, 331 William Allen Butler, 242 Byron, 64, 87, 92, 100, 102, 186, 285, 288, 343 Thomas Campbell, 93, 94 Thomas Carlyle, 75 Henry Francis Gary, 28, 79, 83 Charles Bagot Cayley, 89 Cavalcaselle, 35 Guido Cavalcante, 79 Thomas Chatterton, 280 Chaucer, 91 E. M. Gierke, 196, 259 Hartley Coleridge, 180 Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 124, 345 Ralph Adams Cram, 144, 224 C. P. Cranch, 190 The Earl of Crewe, 137, 153, 170, 238, 287 Crowe, 35 Dante, 30, 38, 76, 77, 78, 82, 83 Aubrey de Vere, 43 Charles Dickens, 342 Wentworth Dillon Sydney Dobell, 69 Henry Austin Dobson, 282 Edward Dowden, 232 William Drummond, 19 Maurice Francis Egan, 145, 248 George Eliot, 127 Ralph Waldo Emerson, 63, 175, 176, 187 Edward Everett, 276 Frederick William Faber, 270 Eugene Field, 120 Richard Garnett, 73 Edmund G. Gardiner, 176 Richard Watson Gilder, 146 C. Gray, 68 Bernard GiambuUari, 258 John S. Harford, 65 Edmund Hill, 298 Nathaniel Hawthorne, 172, 267, 268 Florence Holbrook, 239 Oliver Wendell Holmes, 70 Hutton, 42 Alexander Hay Japp, 328 Mrs. Jameson, 317, 321 Margaret Junkin, 274 iw3117S8 John Kenyon, 228 L. E. Landon, 91 Capel Lofft, 97 Henry W. Longfellow, 42, 51, 58, 59, 64, 129, 132, 133, 155, 157, 165, 177, 255 Walter Savage Landor, 57, 238, 334 James Russell Lowell, 67, 150, 233 Herbert Lucas, 210, 213 R. R. Madden, 215 George H. Miles, 247 Lorenzo de' Medici, the Mag- nificent, 192, 193 John Milton, 334 Moles worth, 97 James Ernest Nesmith, 172 Ouida, 43 Politiano, 87, 196 T. W. Parsons, 72 Petrarch, 89, 92-100 E. H. Plumtre, 63 Samuel Rogers, 19, 38, 40, 73, 101, 127, 148, 168, 178, 261, 275, 290, 343 Robert Cameron Rogers, 290 Mrs. Roscoe, 173 W. Roscoe, 194, 196, 199, 200 John Ruskin, 20, 37, 42, 222, 297, 308, 311, 316 Dante Gabriel Rossetti, 28, 54, 56, 58, 59, 68, 75, 78, 80, 82, 104, 184, 218 Christina Rossetti, 158 Thomas Russell, 100 Margaret Elizabeth Sangster, 24 Percy Bysshe Shelley, 234 John Lancaster Spalding, 257 Savonarola, 214 Algernon Charles Swinburne, 171, 330 St. Luke, 224 John Sterling, 174 Stuart Stern, 181 Strozzi, 168 John Addington Symonds, 184, 185 Bayard Taylor, 249, 250, 327, 333, 344 J. E. Taylor, 180 Mary Ann Thomson, 315 Benedetto Varchi, 102 Alfred Tennyson, 69, 105 Vasari, 49 Samuel Waddington, 80 John Greenleaf Whittier, 246 William Wordsworth, 74, 184, 240, 335 J. A. Wright, 169 Wrottesley, 93 THE AUTHORS MENTIONED IN THE TEXT. Thomas Aquinas, 29 Ariosto, 334 Roger Bacon, 29 Benvenuto Cellini, 255-257 Cicero, 89 Lady Eastlake, 147 E. L. S. Horsburgh, 213 Homer, 92 Kugler, 147 Machiavelli, 197, 198 John Henry Newman, 270 J. L. O'Neil, 209 Duns Scotus, 29 Lope da Vega, 29 Villari, 213 Virgil, 92 The selections by Henry W. Longfellow, Thomas W. Par- sons, James Russell Lowell, Richard Watson Gilder, C. P. Cranch and John Greenleaf Whittier are used by permission of, and by special arrangement with, Houghton Mifflin Com- pany, authorized publishers of their works. Grateful acknowledgments are tendered to the following persons also for permission to use the specified poems : "The Dancing Faun," by Robert Cameron Rogers — ^to Mrs. Beatrice F. Rogers; "The Incognita of Raphael,*' by William Allen Butler — to his son, William Allen Butler, and to his publishers, Harper & Bros. ; "Fra Angelico" and "Raphael," by Maurice Francis Egan — to his publishers, A. C. McClurg & Co.; "A Madonna of Fra Lippo lippi," by Richard Watson Gilder — to Mrs. Helena de Kay Gilder and to his publishers, Houghton Mifflin Company; the selection from "Landor," by John Albee — ^to the author of the same; "Raphael," by Flor- ence Holbrook — to the author of the same; "St. Martin and the Beggar," by Margaret Elizabeth Sangster — ^to The Cen- tury Company. The selection from "Angelo," by Stuart Stern, was taken from Werner's Readings and Recitations No. 5, with permis- sion of the publishers. The quotation from "Savonarola," by Rev. Herbert Lucas, S. J., of Liverpool, England, is used by permission of the author. "Boccaccio" is from poems of Eugene Field; copyright, 1910, by Julia Sutherland Field; published by Charles Scrib- ner's Sons, and used by arrangements with the publishers. "St. Mary Magdalena of Pazzi to the Sacred Heart" is taken from "Passion Flowers," a volume of poems by Rev. Edmund Hill, C. P., with permission of its author. "For the Madonna of the Magnificat, by Sandro Botti- celli," and "The Madonna of the Star, by Fra Angelico" — two sonnets by Ralph Adams Cram — are used with permission of their author. If copyrighted material has been used without permission, it has been done unknowingly, and alterations can be made in the next edition, if necessary. Again thanking those who have contributed their jewels for this setting, and thanking also, the Art Institute of Chi- cago and the Campbell Art Company of Elizabeth, New Jer- sey, for their kind helpfulness in the illustrating, this volume is sent forth with a "Godspeed" by the author. CONTENTS. PART ONE THE STORY OF FLORENCE. Chapter Page I. The Mornings of Florence of the Thir- teenth Century: The Saints 17 II. The Mornings of Florence of the Thir- teenth Century: The Artists and the Churches ; the Republic and Its Palace . 35 III. The Poet 51 IV. Dante and Beatrice 75 V. The Renaissance : Petrarch 87 VI. The Renaissance : Boccaccio 103 VII. The Medici 129 VIII. The Artist Monks, Angelico and Lippo Lippi .141 IX. The Sculptors and Ghirlandajo 151 X. The Noonday Splendor of Florence: Michael Angelo 165 XI. The Magnificent and the Monk 191 XII. The Artist of the Magnificent and the Artist of the Monk 217 XIII. In a Blaze of Glory — Leonardo da Vinci, Raphael, and Andrea del Sarto 231 XIV. The Sixteenth Century in Florence — Ere Yet the Shadows Fall 255 CHRONOLOGICAL RESUME : At the Close of the Thirteenth Century 85 At the Close of the Fourteenth Century 139 At the Close of the Fifteenth Century 253 At the Close of the Sixteenth Century 282 Contents. PART TWO THE TREASURES OF FLORENCE. Page Palazzo Vecchio 285 Loggia dei Lanzi 287 Palazzo Uffizi 288 Santa Croce Church 293 Bargello 300 Church of the Most Holy Annunciation 301 San Marco Monastery 302 Accademia 303 San Lorenzo Church 304 Laurentian Library 305 Baptistery 305 Duomo Santa Maria del Fiore 306 Loggia di Bigallo 307 Santa Maria Novella Church 308 Fr. San Michele Church 322 Pitti Palace 323 Carmine 324 Ognissanti Church 324 Casa Guidi 325 English Cemetery 327 The Cascini 330 The Certosa 331 San Miniato 332 ILLUSTEATIONS. Map of Florence Lining of cover View of Florence Frontispiece St. John the Baptist Donatello Bronze Door of Baptistery (Detail, Showing the Sacri- fice of Isaac by Abraham) Ohiberti St. Benedict and St. Michael (Detail of the Assump- tion) Perugino Courtyard of the Bargello Staircase of the Bargello Meeting of St. Francis and St. Dominic. . .Andrea della Rollia Death of St. Francis OMrlandajo Madonna ( Cimabue ? ) Ducdo Dante Presenting Giotto to Guido Signore at Ravenna . . Mochi Interior of Santa Maria Novella N. Barducci Great Cloister of Santa Maria Novella Cathedral and Campanile (Showing Part of the Baptist- ery) Loggia de'Lanzi (Showing Part of the Palazzo Vecchio). Shrine in Or San Michele Orcagna Dante Gerome Portrait of Dante Giotto Meeting of Dante and Beatrice Holiday Dante's Dream Rossetti Beata Beatrice Rossetti Dante and Beatrice Ary Scheffer Boccaccio Cassioli The Decameron Wagrez Ponte Vecchio The Annunciation Angelica Coronation of the Virgin Angelica Madonna of the Star Angelica Madonna Lippo Lippi Madonna Appearing to St. Bernard Filippino Lippi St. George Donatello Singing Boys Luca della Rohhia Tomb of Bishop Federighi Ltica della Rohhia Baptism of Christ Verrocchia David Verrocchia Monument to Lorenzo de'Medici Michael Angela Illustrations. Monument to Giuliano de'Medici Michael Angelo David Michael Angelo Holy Family Michael Angelo Michael Angelo in His Studio (Showing the Moses, and Pope Julius II. Coming to Inspect the Work) Gdbanel Michael Angelo Reading His Sonnets to Vittoria Colonna Schneider Portrait of Savonarola Bartolommeo Primavera BotticelH The Calumny of Apelles Botticelli Fortitude Botticelli Judith Botticelli The Madonna of the Magnificat BotticelK The Adoration of the Magi Botticelli Hall of Saturn, Pitti Palace (Showing Bartolommeo's Resurrection on the left). The Marriage of St. Catherine Bartolommeo Hall of Tuscan School, UflBzi Gallery (Showing Albertin- elli's Visitation, and the St. Sebastian by Sodoma). Mona Lisa Leonardo da Finct Head of Medusa Leonardo da Vinci Raphael in His Studio Jaldbert Madonna Granduca Raphael Madonna del Cardellino Raphael Raphael Painting the Madonna Wittmer Madonna of the Chair Raphael St. John the Baptist Raphael Velata, or Incognita Raphael Death of Raphael Morgari Annunciation Andrea del Swrto St. John the Baptist Andrea del Sarto Madonna of the Harpies Andrea del Sarto Perseus Cellini Mercury John of Bologna Interior of the Tribuna, Ufl5zi Gallery ( Showing the Venus de'Medici, the Grinder, the Wrestlers, and the Danc- ing Faun). Nativity of the Virgin Ohirlandajo The Meeting of St. Ann and St. Joachim at the Golden Gate Giotto Joachim in the Temple Ohirlandajo PART I. FLORENCE IN POETRY, HISTORY AND ART. CHAPTER I. THE MORNINGS OF FLORENCE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY: THE SAINTS. Commerce was the golden key which unlocked the future of Florence. She was not behind her sister cities in that commercial age result- ing from the crusades, and she had her depots and ports in all parts of Italy, the western ter- minus of the routes to the East. Money is the happy medium of trade, and Florence, two centuries before, had coined the gold -florin, stamped with her name and her fame, and used as that medium with her neigh- boring nations. A century later, in 1181, she struck off the silver florin, and we read from it the characteristics of its makers, for on one side is St. John the Baptist, and on the other side is the lily. The lily is her favorite flower, and we see it everywhere, both in nature and in art. It is on all her shields since that remote age when St. Reparata appeared during a battle holding over the Florentines a banner on which it was im- pressed; and consequently the Duomo Santa 17 Florence. Maria del Fiore was so named, — St. Mary of the Flower. Florence has been called the **City of the Lilies/' and the ^^Lily of the Arno/' but the Eomans early had designated her as Florentia — ^^flourishing/' for she was a flourishing ex- pansion of Fiesole, conquered and enlarged by them. Some authorities tell us that Florinus was the general triumphant and that his name was given the lower part of the town, built for the convenience of merchants ; but Florence, the -city of flowers, or Florence, the Flower of Cities, is what she shall ever be to us — though the Tuscans changed her Eoman name to Fir- enze, later distinguished by the appellation, ^^La Bella,'' because of her beauty. SAINT JOHN BAPTIST. The last and greatest Herald of Heaven's King, Girt with rough skins, hies to the deserts wild, Among that savage brood the woods forth bring. Which he more harmless found than man, and mild. His food was locusts, and what there doth spring. With honey that from virgin hives distill 'd; Parched body, hollow eyes, some uncouth thing Made him appear long since from earth exiled. 18 St. John the Baptist Donatello The Saints. There burst lie forth: **A11 ye whose hopes rely On God, with me amidst these deserts mourn, Repent, repent, and from old errors turn!'' Who listened to his voice, obeyed his cry? Only the echoes, which he made relent, Eung from their flinty caves, * * Repent, repent ! ' ' — William Drummond, The head of St. John the Baptist on that old coin impresses upon our minds that he was a patron of the town, and we still view the octag- onal-shaped building with a cupola, which was founded in his honor in the year 589, and used as a Baptistery, although until 1128 it was used as a cathedral also. In 1293 it was remodeled by Arnolfo di Cambio, and it is ^*My beautiful San Giovanni'' of Dante. It is now famous for its beautiful doors — * ^ Then by the gates so marvelously wrought. That they might serve to be the gates of Heaven, Enter the Baptistery, That place he loved, loved as his own. ' ' — Rogers. Michael Angelo also had called those bronze doors ^*The gates of Paradise." The first door, completed in 1330 by Pisano from designs by Giotto, depicts in relief scenes from the life of St. John, and the work made 19 Florence. an epoch in sculpture, illustrating how close was its connection with pictorial forms. Pisano was the pupil of Nicolo of Pisa, the first of Italy's masters in sculpture. **0f art's spring birth so dim and dewy My sculptor is Nicolo the Pisan, And my painter, who but Cimabue?" — Robert Browning. The execution of the two other doors in the following century was the beginning of the Ital- ian Renaissance in sculpture, and the competi- tion for the work brought into prominence Ghiberti, whose model of the Sacrifice of Isaac, one of the scenes in the panels, secured for him the commission of the work, in preference to that of Brunelleschi, his most noted com- petitor. The Baptistery had been enriched in 1114, by two porphyry pillars from Pisa. **0f living Greek work, there is none after the Florentine Baptistery." — Rushin. Besides the founding of that building, there are other retrospects to take, and every event in Florence, however seemingly trivial, blends and sparkles in the glorious whole like the col- ors of her own matchless mosaics. The Church of San Lorenzo was built in the year 396 and was consecrated by the saintly 20 Bronze Door of Baptistery (Detail, showing the Sacrifice of Isaac by Abraham) Ghiberti The Saints. Ambrose of Milan. It was a Romanesque church and erected in fulfillment of a vow made by a pious matron of Florence desirous of a son. The son, sent in answer to her prayers, she named Lorenzo, and the church was dedi- cated to St. Lawrence who had suffered mar- tyrdom at Rome the previous century by being broiled on a gridiron. He was a deacon and had charge of the church funds, and when commanded by the emperor to produce the treasures of the church he brought forth the sick and the halt and the lame and the poor who had been his especial charges, and said, *^ These are the treasures of the church.'^ The Escorial in Spain was erected in his honor, and he was a favorite with the early Florentines, and in later years the patron of the powerful Medici family, who gave his name to many of their sons, and had his church re- constructed by Brunelleschi, and enriched by that giant of sculptors, Michael Angelo. In the year 440, the church had been distin- guished by being the repository of the remains of St. Zanobius, although they were later— in 1330 — removed to the catacombs of the Duomo, and still again in 1439 were they removed to the subterranean chapel designed by Brunel- leschi, where they now rest in a reliquary em- bellished by Ghiberti. A pillar of marble, near the Duomo, surmounted by a cross, commem- orates the transfer of the holy remains. 21 Florence. Zanobius was bishop of Florence and very- dear to the people. That was long ago — need we count the ages ? — and yet the Florentines deck annually with flowers the Tower of San Zanobius near the Ponte Vecchio. They also deck his tomb in Santa Maria del Fiore on his feast day, May 25th, and touch it with roses which thereby be- come sacred. The flower sellers also touch their baskets to his shrine and great indeed is the demand for their wares, for who would not desire a rose of ^^San Zanobio^'l *^ Zanobius Enthroned" is a large fresco in the Palazzo Vecchio, done by Ghirlandajo, as one of the historical decorations, and St. Zano- bius Enthroned is in the Duomo, done by a pupil of Griotto. Another old church is San Martino 's, founded in 986, and now interesting because in it Dante was married to Gemma Donati, th6 shrew, it being his parish church, for his father's wool shop opened upon Via Martino. The Florentines ever had *^an eye for the fitness of things,'' whether in religion, art or commerce, not saying anything at all about clothes, but could it really be by design or was it accident which caused the neighborhood of San Martino to be settled by tailors and cloth merchants ? St. Martin gave his cloak to a beggar and hence was the patron of the Guild of Tailors. 22 The Saints. ST. MARTIN AND THE BEGGAR. ^^In the freezing cold and the blinding snow Of a wintry eve in the long ago, Folding his cloak o'er clanking mail, A soldier is fighting the angry gale Inch by inch to the camp-fire's light, Star of his longing this wintry night. All in a moment his path is barred ; He draws his sword as he stands on gnard — But who is this with a white, wan face. And piteons hands npheld for grace? Tenderly bending, the soldier bold Eaises a beggar faint and cold. Famished he seems, and almost spent; The rags that cover him worn and rent. Crust nor coin can the soldier find ; Never his wallet with gold is lined ; But his soul is sad at the sight of pain ; The sufferer 's pleading is not in vain. His mantle of fur is broad and warm, Armor of proof against the storm ; He snatches it off without a word ; One downward pass of the gleaming sword, And cleft in twain at his feet it lies. And the storm wind howls 'neath the frowning skies. 23 Florence. ^Plalf for thee,' — and with tender art He gathers the cloak round the beggar's heart — * And half for me ; ' and with jocund song In the teeth of the tempest he strides along, Daring the worst of the sleet and snow. That brave young spirit of long ago. Lo ! as he slept at midnight's prime. His tent had the glory of summer time ; Shining out of a wondrous light. The Lord Christ beamed on his dazzled sight. ^I was the beggar,' the Lord Christ said, As he stood by the soldier's lowly bed; *Half of the garment thou gavest Me, With the blessing of heaven I dower thee.' And Martin rose from the hallowed tryst Soldier and servant and knight of Christ." Margaret Elizabeth Sangster, The small church of San Martino now stand- ing, was formerly only the chapel of the larger church which was built and presented to the monks of the Badia, or Abbey, as the Bene- dictines were called — ^by the Countess Willa. They early came here from Cluny, and later others came from Monte Casino, near Naples. St. Benedict was born in the year 480, so we we see that Florence, though so wondrously aroused and stimulated into new life and enthu- siasm and religious fervor by the coming of the Franciscans and Dominicans in the years 1212 24 St. Benedict and St. Michael Academy, Florence Pietro Perugino The Saints. and 1220, — which religious fervor called forth her handmaidens Art and Poetry, till then dor- mant — she had for centuries within her walls the older Order of Benedictines busily engaged in illuminating and copying priceless manu- scripts. Their church of the Badia contains master- pieces of painting and sculpture and their mon- astery court contains ancient towers, one of which was occupied by the Podesta, or foreign governor of Florence. That office was established by the Eepublic in 1199. There were even then, many wealthy, influential families in Florence, not the least of which were the Medici, and to prevent the pos- sibility of any one of them predominating, a law was passed that a foreigner must be chosen as Podesta — a title which expresses potency, magistracy, from the latin form, potestas — power. In 1261 the Podesta took up his abode in the palace built and named for his title, but later called the Bargello, when the office of Podesta was abolished by the Medici and the building was consigned to the Bargello or Chief of Police. An Italian proverb has it : ** Without Francis, no Dante ! ' ' May we not add, ' ' Without Fran- cis, no Giotto, or others innumerable who have made the fame of Florence''? Francis of Assisi, born in 1182, was baptized John, but from Jiis knowledge of the language 25 Florence. of the troubadours, who, at about that time were wandering in from Provence and intro- ducing the lyric into Italy, he was called in early- life, *^I1 Francesco'' — the little Frenchman — and not only was the language of the trouba- dours known to him, but he was permeated with the very spirit of which they sung — the spirit of chivalry. He would be a knight errant, and his lady love to whom he plighted troth was none other than poverty, the '^Lady Poverty"; but no sword nor buckler had he, for unencumbered did he go forth upon his quest — the souls of men, which were to be won for his Liege-Lord, Christ. ''HERE BEGINNETH THE LIFE OF THE BLESSED FRANCIS." *' There was a man in the city of Assisi, by name Francis, whose memory is blessed, for that God, graciously preventing him with the blessings of goodness, delivered him in His mercy from the perils of this present life, and abundantly filled him with the gifts of heavenly grace. **For, albeit in his youth he was reared in vanity amid the vain sons of men, and after gaining some knowledge of letters, was ap- pointed unto a profitable business of merchan- dise, nevertheless, by the aid of the divine pro- tection, he went not astray among the wanton youths after the lusts of the flesh, albeit given 26 Courtyard of the Bargello, Florence Bargello, Florence '•'^V - ^% The Saints. up to pleasure; nor among the covetous mer- chants, albeit intent on his gains, did he put his trust in money and treasure. For there was divinely implanted in the heart of the young Francis a certain generous compassion toward the poor, the which, growing up with him from infancy, had so filled his heart with kindliness that, when he came to be no deaf hearer of the Gospel, he was minded to give unto all that asked of him, in especially if they pleaded the love of God.'' — From the Life of St, Francis, hy St. Bonaventura, * * Between Tupino, and the wave that falls From blest Ubaldo's chosen hill, there hangs Rich slope of mountain high, whence heat and cold Are wafted through Perugia 's eastern gate ; And Nocera with Gualdo, in its rear. Mourn for their heavy yoke. Upon that side, Where it doth break its steepness most, arose A sun [Francis] upon the world, as duly this From Ganges doth; therefore let none, who speak Of that place, say Ascesi [Assisi] ; for its name Were lamely so delivered ; but the East, To call things rightly, be it henceforth styled. He was not yet much distant from his rising. When his good influence 'gan to bless the earth. A dame [Poverty] to whom none openeth pleas- ure 's gate 27 Florence. More than to death, was, 'gainst his father's will. His stripling choice; and he did make her his by nnptial bonds , Before the spiritual court. And in his father 's sight : from day to day, Then loved her more devoutly. She, bereaved Of her first husband [Christ], slighted and ob- scure, Thousand and hundred years and more, re- mained Without a single suitor, till he came. But not to deal Thus closely with thee longer, take at large The lovers' titles — Poverty and Francis. Their concord and glad looks, wonder and love. And sweet regard gave birth to holy thoughts, So much, that venerable Bernard first Did bare his feet, and, in pursuit of peace So heavenly, ran, yet deem'd his footing slow. hidden riches ! O prolific good ! Egidious bares his next, and next Sylvester, And follow, both, the bridegroom : so the bride Can please them. Thenceforth goes he on his way The father and the master, with his spouse. And with that family, whom now the cord Girt humbly." — Dante, in the Paradiso, Gary's translation. 28 The Saints. That family later included St. Louis of France, St. Clare, St. John of Capistrano, St. Barbara, St. Ferdinand, king of Spain; St. Louis of Toulouse, St. Bonaventure — names whose echoes now rebound from the old mis- sions of California — St. Elizabeth of Hungary, St. Anthony of Padua ; that marvel of learning, Roger Bacon; and the writer. Lope da Vega. The Schoolman, Duns Scotus, born in 1265, the same year that ushered into life Dante Alig- hieri — ^held the Franciscan philosophy and the- ology against the Dominican champion, Thomas Aquinas, ' ' The Angel of the Schools. ' ' It is almost beyond our ability to comprehend, even faintly, the beauty of poverty, as practiced by Francis. Figuratively we may strive for it, for *^ Blessed are the poor in spirit,'' but to most of us the sentiments as voiced in this little poem by an author unknown, are ours, and be- cause our eyes are dim and undisceming of spiritual beauty, we think it is not there. THE LADY POVERTY. **The Lady Poverty was fair. But she has lost her looks of late. With change of times and change of air. Ah, slattern I she neglects her hair. Her gown, her shoes ; she keeps no state As once when her pure feet were bare. 29 Florence. Or — almost worse, if worse can be — She scolds in parlors, dusts and trims, Watches and counts. Oh, is this she Whom Francis met, whose step was free, Who with Obedience caroled hymns. In Umbria walked with Chastity? Where is her Ladyship? Not here. Not among modern kinds of men ; Not in the stony fields, where clear Through the thin trees the skies appear. In delicate spare soil and fen. And slender landscape and austere. ' ' * * The Providence, that governeth the world, In depth of counsel by created ken Unfathomable, to the end that she [the Church], Who with loud cries was 'spoused in precious blood, Might keep her footing toward her well-beloved [Jesus Christ], Safe in herself and constant unto him. Hath two ordained, who should on either hand In chief escort her: one [Francis] seraphic all In fervency; for wisdom upon earth. The other, [Dominic] splendor of cherubic light. I but of one will tell : he tells of both. Who one commendeth, which of them soe'er Be taken : for their deeds were to one end. ' ' — Dante, in the Paradiso. 30 The Saints. Dominic was born in Old Castile in 1170 and in 1215 he founded his great Order at Toulouse. He overcame the Albigensian heresy in France through the power of the Rosary and his Order was professedly the Guardian of the Faith. THE VISION OF ST. DOMINIC. *^He knelt alone on the cold grey stone In the shrine outside the city, And he prayed to the Queen in heaven above For her gracious help and pity. Sore he wept o'er the fold of Christ That the wolves had broken their fences, And unchristian strife was in Christendom rife, A strife with the Albigenses. *0 Lady,' he cried, *I have preached far and wide, I have fasted and watched in anguish ; How long, how long, shall the Bride of Christ In sorrow and weakness languish? Shall the foeman's host be able to boast In pages of future story. That hell prevailed and His promise failed, Alas! for thy Son's dear glory!' He ceased his moan, and a radiance shone On pillar and wall around him ; Was it the moon whose pitying beams In his lonely watch had found him? 31 Florence. Ah well he knows, by the joy that glows In his heart but now so lonely, Tis a vision from home — such light can come From the face of our Lady only. She stretched her arms to the kneeling saint, The arms where his Lord has nestled ; *0h, all the while' (she said with a smile) * Have I prayed for you as you wrestled. But, Dominic, know that the Church shall owe Her triumph, when discord closes. Not to might of words nor the force of swords — She shall win by a crown of Eoses. ' She faded from sight, that Presence bright. Yet still in the church he lingers. And ever the crown which his Queen dropped down. Keeps wandering through his fingers. When the pale dawn broke the saint awoke. From his prayer he passed to his mission ; The chaplet of prayer in his hand he bare. In his heart, the peace of the vision. ' ' — Author Unknown, The members of the Orders of St. Dominic and St. Francis were welcomed by the Eepublic in Florence and accorded special honors ; to the Franciscans were intrusted the care of the Hos- pital of the Misericordia — that charitable organ- ization for the care of the sick and the dying 32 .2 tr -a 5 CO CD • 9 The Saints. still existing and including in its roster prince as well as peasant — and the custody of the urn used in the election of the magistrates ; while a Dominican as well as a Franciscan was accorded a seat on the Einghieri during public affairs of state. The Einghieri was a rostrum in front of the Palazzo-Vecchio. It was removed in the nineteenth century, but a small platform marks the place where it stood. (The word is derived from Arringari, to harangue.) Both Orders were most potent in their efforts or zeal, and another order of religion soon sprang up in Florence, the Servites, or Servants o^ Mary. It was founded by seven young men of the town in 1233 and the early Church of the Order, the Church of the Most Holy Annuncia- tion, is rich in artistic decoration. It was built as a thank-offering by the parents of St. Juliana, for her who was sent to them in their old age. She was a niece of St. Alexius, one of the seven founders, and she herself was the foundress of the Servite Sisterhood. Another saint of the Order is Philip Benizzi. 33 CHAPTEE 11. THE MORNINGS OF FLORENCE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY: THE ARTISTS AND THE CHURCHES. We must now tell of one who drew aside the veil which hid from the Florentines ' eyes, what as yet their eyes of faith had but dimly seen — the beauty of her who was their Queen. ^ That was Cimabue, according to Vesari.* It was noised about the city what a marvel or what a miracle he was performing in his Bot- tega or workshop, or studio, and when the city^s guest, Charles of Anjou, — ^the brother of the Saintly Louis of France, and later the father of him who exchanged his kingdom for the Franciscan habit, St. Louis of Toulouse, — ^was passing through Florence on his way to his new kingdom of Naples, what greater honor could the city pay him than to accord him a view of its priceless treasure in that Bottega! And the people followed, eager for a glinlpse, and what a shout of exultation and joy went •Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle maintain that the picture here described is the work of Duccio of Siena, and that "Cimabue as an artist is an unknown person." That opinion is now generally accredited, but as some of the authors quoted in this text had followed Vesari's version, we shall speak of Cimabue and of his works in a like manner. 35 Florence. forth when they saw that face! To this day, that part of the city is called ^^Borgo Allegro'' — the joyful quarter. The picture was carried in triumph by the whole populace to the Church of Santa Maria Novello, where it still remains. Let Mrs. Browning, from her **Casa Guidi Windows,'' tell about the picture: **You enter in your Florentine wanderings, The Church of Santa Maria Novello, To muse in a small chapel scarcely lit. By Cimabue's Virgin. Bright and brave. That picture was accounted mark, of old — A king stood bare before its sovereign grace, A reverent people shouted to behold The picture, not the king; and even the place Containing such a miracle grew bold Named the Glad Borga from that beauteous face Which thrilled the artist after work to think His own ideal Mary smile should stand So very near him. The Lady, throned in empyreal state. Minds only the young Babe upon her knee While sidelong angels bear the royal weight Prostrated meekly, smiling tenderly, 36 Madonna Santa Maria Novella ( Cimabue) Duecio The Artists and the Churches. Oblivious of their wings ; the Child thereat Stretching its hand like God. If any should Because of some stiff draperies and loose joints Gaze scorn down from the heights of Eaffael- hood On Cimabue's picture, Heaven annoints The head of no such critic. A noble picture, worthy of the shout Wherewith along the streets the people bore Its cherub-faces which the sun threw out Until they stopped and entered the Church door." There is another Madonna which was attrib- uted to Cimabue, in the Accademia, and an au- thentic portrait of St. Francis taken from life by Cimabue, is in Santa Croce. That also is an important work, for painting from a living model was *^a new thing in those days,'' — this being a period of ebb-tide in art, — no life, or spontaneity, or initiative; but simply a blind following of rules laid down by the ancient Greeks. Those rules were strictly adhered to by the artists of Byzantium which was then held by the Greeks, and Byzantine art was the stand- ard of the age. Ruskin has this about Cimabue : ** First of the Florentines, first of the Euro- pean men — he attained in thought, and saw with spiritual eye, exercised to discern good from 37 Florence. evil — the face of her who was blessed among women, and with his following hand made vis- ible the Magnificat of his heart. He magnified the Maid, and Florence rejoiced in her Queen/' Cimabue died in 1302, but he left an heir to his greatness — a pupil, a protege — ** 'Tis morning. Let us wander through the fields Where Cimabue found a shepherd-boy Tracing his idle fancies on the ground." — Rogers. This is Cimabue 's epitaph: * * Creditut ut Cimabue picturae castra tenere Sic tenuit vivins ; nunc tener astra poli. ' ' * * Cimabue held supremacy in the field of paint- ing while he lived, And now he still holds it among the stars of heaven. ' ' Dante, commenting upon the epitaph in the ^ ' Purgatorio, ' ' says : ^ * powers of man ! how vain thy glory, nipt E 'en in its height of verdure, if an age Less bright succeed not. Cimabue thought To lord it over painting's field; and now The cry is Giotto's, and his name eclipsed." Giotto, so mentioned in the greatest religious poem of all ages, reciprocates by placing his friend, Dante, whom he had met in Rome and Ravenna, in the ^^Paradiso," a fresco he later 38 The Artists and the Churches. made in the Bargello, as an illustration of the great poem. He so handed down the poet's face to pos- terity. It is the profile we see copied so exten- sively in Florence, as elsewhere. Mrs. Browning, from her ^^Casa Guidi Win- dows, '^ continues: . * ^ Yet rightly was young Giotto talked about, Whom Cimabue found among the sheep. And knew, as gods know gods, and carried home To paint the things he had painted with a deep And fuller insight and so overcome His Chapel-Lady with a heavenlier sweep of light. ^ ^ ^ ^ w tp I hold, too, That Cimabue smiled upon the lad. At the first stroke which passed what he could do. Or else his Virgin's smile had never had Such sweetness in't. All great men who fore- knew Their heirs in art, for art's sake have been glad." That Santa Maria Novello Church, whose altar is adorned by the so-called Cimabue 's Madonna, is the early Church built by the Do- minicans. Michael Angelo called it, on account of its grace and beauty, ^*La Sposa." 39 Florence. **From that small spire just caught By the bright ray, that Church among the rest By one of the old distinguished as The Bride. ' ' — Rogers, **And, past the quays, Maria Novello's Place, In which the mystic obelisks stand up Triangular, pyramidal, each based On a single trine of brazen tortoises. To guard that fair church, Buonarroti's Bride, That stares out from her large blind dial-eyes, Her quadrant and armillary dials, black With rhythms of many suns and moons, in vain Enquiry for so rich a soul as his.'' — Mrs, Browning, Santa Maria Novello was Giotti's parish church and contains some beautiful frescoes by Cimabue as well as by Giotto. In its Chapter- house, now called the Spanish Chapel, is a por- trait of Cimabue himself taken with others of his famous contemporaries — Arnolfo, Giotto, Petrarch, and his Laura, and even Boccaccio and his Piammetta, who are represented in a picture as being the attendants on a long train of popes, cardinals and emperors. The many scenes painted upon the walls deal with the life and exaltation of St. Dominic. They are supposed to have been an illustration of Dante's story in the Paradiso. Giotto's earliest works were done for the Badia, but they have not been preserved. The 40 ^Hm>'^^^^^^ ■t .^. ^^ .^ .,i...:^i^^EJSffiwliL^W H^^^^^^m^Mi ■H 1^ ■^' &^^" - g|KMn EB^E^b'^ ^BriilillUll ill IH 1^^^^^ Santa Maria Novella iV^. Barducci Great Cloister, Santa Maria Novella, Florence The Artists and the Churches. earliest now seen are in the Franciscan Church at Assisi, that f onntain-head of the Franciscan order, which Cimabue also had decorated. He had joined the Franciscans, and naturally the twenty-eight frescoes illustrating the life of his great master, called forth his gifts to their fullest. He later showed in Allegory the three virtues or Vows of the Order: Poverty, Chas- tity and Obedience — the wedding of St. Francis to Poverty being considered his greatest work. That was in 1296, in the twentieth year of his age. Some of the work with slight modifications he reproduced in Santa Croce Church in Flor- ence, the Church of the Holy Cross, which the Franciscans began after designs by that first great Gothic architect, Arnolfo di Cambio, in the year 1294. The Church itself is very interesting as being an early work in the (then) new style of archi- tecture, although it has none of the characteris- tics we associate with the great Gothic struc- tures of later date throughout all western Europe, the cathedrals of Cologne, Milan and Notre Dame; although in the history of West- minster Abbey we read that: ^*The nearest approach to Westminster Ab- bey in this respect is the Church of Santa Croce in Florence.'' We think of the Gothic — a term used in those early times as a synonym of barbaric — as ex- 41 Florence. pressing height, with vaultings, pointed arches and a general massiveness, none of which char- acteristics are found in Santa Croce, but Euskin in his ^^ Mornings in Florence'' explains the seeming discrepancy. Not only did the Dominicans build their Santa Maria Novello Church and the Franciscans their Santa Croce, but all the people of Florence de- sired a Cathedral and commissioned Arnolfo di Cambio to ^^ raise the loftiest, most sumptuous and most magnificent pile that human invention could devise or human labor execute.'' Santa Maria del Fiore was accordingly begun in 1298, on the site of an old church in honor of St. Reparata, and as Arnolfo died in 1300, the work was discontinued for thirty years until Giotto was appointed master of works of the building. This is the period in which he designed the Campanile — the bell tower of the Cathedral — of which Ruskin says: *'0f living Christian work, none is so perfect as the tower of Giotto ' ' ; and of which Longfellow writes : * * In the old Tuscan town stands Giotto 's tower. The lily of Florence blossoming in stone, — A vision, a delight, and a desire, — The builder's perfect and centennial flower, That in the night of ages bloomed alone." Hutton has it thus : **Like a slim lily, pale, immaculate as a pure 42 c Hliu-tlral and Cainpanile Showing part of the Baptistery The Artists and the Churches. virgin, rises the inviolate tower of the lowly, that Giotto built for God/' '*The tower of Giotto, like a thing of Para- dise,, fair and fresh in its perfect grace as though angels had builded it in the night just past. ' ' — Otiida. '^And of all I saw and of all I praised. The most to praise and the best to see, Was the startling bell-tower Giotto raised : But why did it more than startle me T ' — Robert Browning. GIOTTO'S CAMPANILE. ' ^ Encased with precious marbles, pure and rare. How gracefully it soars, and seems the while From every polished stage to laugh and smile. Playing with sportive gleams of lucid air! Fit resting place, methinks, its summit were For a descended angel! happy isle. Mid life's rough sea of sorrow, force and guile. For saint of royal race, or vestal fair. In this seclusion, — call it not a prison, — Cloistering a bosom, innocent and lonely. O Tuscan Priestess ! gladly would I watch All night one note of thy loud hymn to catch. Sent forth to greet the sun when first, new-risen. He shines on that aerial station only!'' — Aubrey de Vere. 43 Florence. The tower, of white, pink and green marble, is elaborately worked in relief, not only by Giotto and Pisano, who also helped in the deco- ration of the Duomo, but by succeeding artists. Giotto was the real founder of the Florentine school of painting, and he was a sculptor, an architect and an adept in mosaic work as well. The Italian phrase, **As round as Giotto's 0, ' ' had its origin in an event which illustrated his firmness and accuracy with the brush. When the pope sent a legate to bring a sample of his work, he, Giotto, responded by drawing a circle so perfect that ^*it was a marvel to behold." *^ Works done least rapidly. Art most cherishes. Thyself shall atford the example, Giotto! Thy one work, not to decrease or diminish. Done at a stroke, was just (was it not?) *0M Thy great Campanile is still to finish. ' * — Robert Browning, Giotto died in Florence in 1336 and this is his epitaph : **Ille ego sum, per quem pictura exticta revixit. ' ' **I am he who revived the lost art of paint- ing." 44 The Republic and Its Palace. THE REPUBLIC AND ITS PALACE. The Republic of Florence was established in the year 1283. For two centuries there had been a struggle between the G^erman emperors and the popes in regard to temporal power, and all Christen- dom, but particularly Germany and Italy, be- came involved in partisanship. In Germany, those who supported the popes were called Welfs, and those who supported the emperors were called Waiblings — terms derived from the names of two families who were leaders early in the contest. The Italian forms of the words were Guelfs and Ghibellines. Florence, as a rule, supported the popes, as the counts of Tuscany followed the example of the ** Great Countess '* Mathilda, and Guelf su- premacy, moreover, with the support of the popes, meant Italian democracy and independ- ence. It was only for a few years that Florence was under the Ghibelline control, and it ceased in 1250, at the death of the German Emperor Frederick II. The Guelfs who had been banished then re- turned and established the Republic. Venice was under the Doges and Milan was under the Tyrannies ; but Florence, as we have said, was commercial ; her merchants were rich and powerful and supplied the world with Flor- entine wool and silk and gold embroideries, 45 Florence. while her capitalists supplied the sovereigns of Europe with moneys ; and scarcely less impor- tant than they, were the artisans, whose indus- tries made the commerce and the money market possible, for Florence was the Alma Mater of modern art — not only of the art of painting and sculpture and architecture and music, but also of the arts called useful, though fine indeed when practiced by her people. Where can we find so beautiful designs in mosaics, whether in glass or marble ; where so intricate iron and gold work, or work in lace and tapestries I Where so dazzling an array of illuminated manuscripts and illustrations in miniature — to say nothing of the straw work and wool for which Tuscany has so long been famous. Boniface VIII, made pope in 1294, said of Florence : ^ * She is far away the greatest of all cities. . . . She feeds and clothes us. Indeed, she appears to rule the world ! ^ ' What more expedient than the banding to- gether into various Guilds of all arts, crafts and industries ? Guilds were prevalent in nearly all the European cities at that time, among the com- mercial and industrial classes. So the Republic was formed of the twelve chief Guilds, over which two priori were chosen to preside. We have said that Florence had a chief magis- trate who, by degree, must be a noble, a Guelf 46 Loggia de' Lanzi Showing part of Palazzo Vecchio The Republic and Its Palace. and a Catholic, chosen in 1199, and that his palace, later the Bargello, was in 1261 the seat of the Florentine Government. In 1265 we find the union of Guilds formed from which all nobles are excluded, and a palace planned as their stronghold — the Palace of the Signoria, as the governing body of the Guilds was called — which palace is now called the Palazzo Vecchio. It was built in 1298 from designs by Arnolfo di Cambio and its massive grandeur and im- pregnable appearance proclaim it to have been a fort of commerce against aristocracy and tell also of struggles anticipated by the new power installed. From its campanile, * ^ the tower of Liberty, ' ' which is 308 feet high, sounded the bell rallying the forces in the many ensuing Civil Wars. The Palace of the Signoria then became the capitol of the Republic, and the square before it, the Piazza della Signoria, became its forum, and, flanking the forum, was built in 1376 after designs by Orcagna, a loggia or arcade for the public performance of affairs of state, which building was called The Loggia della Signoria. It is now called the Loggia dei Lanzi, from the fact that a Medici stationed his German Lancers there. The Loggia dei Lanzi is now an open air museum of priceless treasures of sculpture by some of the great artists of Florence. 47 Florence. Quite near the headquarters of the Guilds Union is the Or San Michele Church, which the merchants decorated, and which is one of the most interesting in Florence, as it illustrates how close were the bonds which early connected commerce, art and religion. ^*0r'' is derived from Horium, a granary, or Hortus, a garden, and the evolution of a loggia or shed, erected as a shelter from the weather, over a grain market, into one of the finest churches of Florence, is certainly worthy of note. In our visit to Or San Michele we notice many niches filled with statues of different saints, and when we learn that they were placed there as their patrons by the different Guilds, we regard them with an added interest. On certain feast days we see waving above the statues the shields or banners of the differ- ent Guilds from which we may learn much of those early times. We see represented the hosiers, the blacksmiths, the notaries, the physi- cians, the furriers, the stockbrokers, the advo- cates, * ^ the butchers, the bakers and candlestick makers,'^ and other captains of industry. The statues are works of art, made by the foremost sculptors of the day, and the Church was erected by the Republic's architect, Orcagna, the successor of Taddio Gaddi, shortly after the Great Plague of 1348. Notice the name, the Arnolf o who built Santa Croee, the Palazzo Vecchio, and the Duomo 48 Shrine in Or San Michele Orcagna The Republic and Its Palace. Santa Maria del Fiore, the foremost and first great Gothic architect, erecting a shed as a pro- tection from the weather where grain was to be sold; and before the loggia was built the spot was used as a garden, and before that time on it stood a chapel built in honor of St. Michael, erected before the eighth century. The cause of that evolution was a picture of the Madonna, painted by one Ugolino of Siena, which picture aroused such devotion in the breasts of all beholders that crowds from all Tuscany flocked to burn candles and to make vo- tive offerings towards the shrine which held it — simply one of the pilasters upholding the Loggia built by Arnolf o, and the devotions were so fervent and the hymns of praise were so in- cessant that a society was formed to have charge of the affair, which society was called the Company of Or San Michele. That picture, which was destroyed by fire, is replaced by another which is kept veiled in the Church, and before the veil is removed, accord- ing to the edict issued long ago by the Com- pany of Or San Michele, candles must be lighted before it. It is enclosed in a shrine which re- quired Orcagna fourteen years to fashion, so elaborately is it carved. Vasari^s description of the work is so quaint that we presume to quote it: *^And he giving to different masters from many countries the other parts, kept for himself 49 Florence. and Ms brother all the figures in the work ; and when it was finished he caused it to be built up and joined together without cement with fasten- ings of copper and lead, that the polished marble might not be stained, which succeeded so well that the whole chapel seems to be cut out of one piece of marble. *^But what great efforts he made in that dark age to display his subtle genius is chiefly seen in the great work in relief of the Twelve Apostles watching the Madonna borne up to heaven by angels. For one of the apostles he sculptured himself as he was, aged, with shaven face, with his cowl above his head. Below he wrote upon the marble these words: ^* ^Andreas Cionis pictor Florentines Oratoru archimagister extitit hujus, MCCCLIX. ' **The building of the loggia and the taber- nacle cost ninety-six thousand gold florins, which were very well spent, for whether as re- gards architecture, sculpture, or ornament, it is as beautiful as anything of those times, and such that it will always keep alive the name of Andrea Arcagna.'' ** Westminster Abbey will be better under- stood after seeing Orcagna's shrine at Or San Michele.'' 50 CHAPTER III. THE POET. DANTE. * ^ Tuscan, that wandering through the realms of gloom, With thoughtful pace, and sad, majestic eyes. Stern thoughts and awful from thy soul arise. Like Farinata from his fiery tomb. Thy sacred song is like the trump of doom; Yet in thy heart what human sympathies. What soft compassion glows, as in the skies The tender stars their clouded lamps relume. Methinks I see thee stand with pallid cheeks By Fra Hilario in his diocese. As up the convent-walls, in golden streaks. The ascending sunbeams mark the day^s de- crease ; And, as he asks what there the stranger seeks, Thy voice along the cloister whispers, * Peace!' " — Henry W. Longfellow, The new Eepublic begun by the formation of the Arts and Grafts Guilds in the year 1265 had early to encounter an outbreak of factions which were offshoots of the Guelf and Ghibel- line feuds. The factions were called the Bianchi and the Neri, the Whites and the Blacks. 51 Florence. That outbreak had its origin entirely outside of Florentine affairs — it began in a small town not far away. Two families of Pistoia had a quarrel and the affair soon involved the whole town, and with a view of settling the difficulty, the princi- pals were summoned to Florence, but, alack and aday, each party having friends and kinsfolk in the latter place, the whole city soon became involved and sided with either the Neri, who generally were Guelf s, or with the Bianchi, who were Ghibellines. The dispute developed into violence and the violence developed into tumult and the tumult in- volved the whole community in the uproar. The Neri held a secret meeting at which it was re- solved to send quietly to the pope to petition him to commission Charles of Yalois, son of the king of France, to come to Florence to take charge and to pour oil on its troubled waters. The Bianchi, on learning of this, were filled with indignation and also with apprehension as to the consequence of this measure to the state, and arming themselves they repaired to the Priori, who by this time had complete control of the government, and demanded redress: that the Neri be punished summarily for plotting and planning any measure against the welfare of the Eepublic, as well as against themselves, for they knew that papal intervention meant their banishment. 52 The Poet. Now the chief of the Priori, and consequently the head of the government, in that year of 1300, was Dante Alighieri. By his advice the chief disturbers of both the Neri and the Bianchi were banished from Florence. Dante was accused at this time of having been partial to the Bianchi, although the accusation seems to have been unjust, for if he did treat the Neri with greater severity, there was a warrant for it, from the fact of their having planned the coup against the state. However, the sentiment against him grew stronger, and when, shortly afterwards, the banished Bianchi were permitted to return to Florence, the indignation of the Neri broke its bounds. Dante explained that when the Bianchi re- turned he was no longer in office, and that their return had been hastened by the death of one of their number, owing to the unwholesome air of the place of their exile. However, the pope did send Charles of Va- lois to Florence, and the whole of the Bianchi party were banished. Dante at the time was in Eome on a mission of peace to the pope, but during his absence his enemies plotted against him, and had him included in the decree of ban- ishment for two years, with the additional pen- alty of a fine of 8,000 lire, which, if not paid, would cause the complete confiscation of all his goods and possessions in Florence. 63 Florence. Dante, on learning of this indignity, took up arms with his other companions in misery and stormed the city — but without success. His punishment was then fixed as the most extreme extended to even the greatest criminal — he and his associates would be burned should they fall into the hands of their enemies. * * Yet evermore her hate 's decree Dw^lt in his thought intolerable, — His body to be burned, — ^his soul ) To beat its wings at hope's vain goal.'' — Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Then began his wanderings, and his poverty and his distress ; and greatest of all of his suf- ferings was the realization that they were wrongfully and unjustly inflicted upon him. To tell how great was his anguish would re- quire a pen no less gifted than his own; but may we not hazard the supposition that without all that suffering he should never have pic- tured so vividly the tortures of the damned, nor, on the other hand, the glories of the blessed in the Paradisol For, was not his suffering the crucible that prepared his poet's soul for its flight above! *' Follow his steps' appointed way, — But little light we find that clears The darkness of the exiled years. 54 The Poet. Follow Ms spirit's journey, — nay, What fires are blent, what winds are blown On paths his feet may tread alone? Yet of the twofold life he led In chainless thought and fettered will, Some glimpses reach us, — somewhat still Of the steep stairs and bitter bread, — Of the souPs quest whose stern avow For years had made him haggard now. Alas ! the sacred song whereto Both heaven and hell had set their hand Not only at fame's gate did stand Knocking to claim the passage through, But toiled to ope the heavier door Which Florence shut forevermore. Shall not his birth's baptismal town One last high presage yet fulfil. And at that font in Florence still His forehead take the laurel-crown? — God ! or shall dead souls deny The undying soul its prophesy? Ay, 'tis their hour. Not yet forgot The bitter words he spoke that day When for some great charge far away Her rulers his acceptance sought; *And if I go, who stays?' so rose His scorn; 'and if I stay, who goes?' 55 Florence. ^Lo ! thou art gone now, and we stay,' The curled lips mutter ; * and no star Is from thy mortal path so far As streets where childhood knew the way. To heaven and hell thy feet may win, But thine own house they come not in. ' Therefore, the loftier rose the song To touch the secret things of God, The deeper pierced the hate that trod On base men's track who wrought the wrong; Till the soul's effulgence came to be Its own exceeding agony. Arriving only to depart. From court to court, from land to land, Like flame within the naked hand His body bore his burning heart. That still on Florence strove to bring God's fire for a burnt offering." — Dante Gabriel Rosetti, **A mightier Power she saw. Poet and prophet give three worlds the law, When Dante's strength arose Fraud met aghast the boldest of her foes. **One man above all other men is great. Even on this globe, where dust obscures the sign. 56 The Poet. God closed his eyes to pour into Ms heart His own pure wisdom. In chill house he sate, Fed only on those fruits the hand divine Disdained not, thro' his angels, to impart. He was despised of those he would have spilt His blood to ransom. ' ' — Walter Savage Landor. Of all the great names inscribed upon the Roll of Fame in Florence none is greater than Dante's. Florence is emphatically the ^*city of Dante, ' ' nor can we picture him as belonging to any other, nor did he in spirit. His heart was ever there, embittered and anguished though it was made. He created a language for her by his poem — Florentine Italian being made the classic, instead of the language of Rome. ^^ Flor- ence is the cradle of the Italian language, and Dante is still living in her soul." *^I turn for consolation to the leaves Of the great master of our Tuscan tongue Whose words, like colored garnet-shirls in lava. Betray the heat in which they were engendered. A Mendicant, he ate the bitter bread Of others, but repaid their meager gifts With immortality. In courts of princes He was a byword, and in streets of towns Was mocked by children, like the Hebrew prophet. Himself a prophet. I, too, know the cry — 57 Florence. *Go up, thou bald head!* from a generation That wanting reverence, wanteth the best food The soul can feed on. There 's not room enough For age and youth upon this planet ; Age must give way. There was not room enough Even for this great poet. In his song I hear reverberate the gates of Florence, Closing upon him, never more to open ; But mingled with the sound are melodies Celestial from the gates of Paradise. He came, and he is gone. The people knew not What manner of man was passing by their doors Until he passed no more ; but in his vision He saw the torments and the beatitudes Of souls condemned or pardoned, and hath left Behind him this sublime Apocalypse. * ' — Longfellow's Michael Angelo. In 1316 Dante had the offer extended to him by the Eepublic that he might return upon the payment of a fine and by making public ac- knowledgement of his offense. '* Nevertheless, when from his kin There came the tidings how at last In Florence a decree was passed Whereby all banished folk might win Free pardon, so a fine were paid And act of public penance made. ' ' - — Dante Gabriel Rossetti. 58 ^a 2 y The Poet. The offer he indignantly spurned, for he al- ready foresaw that he should return in ii^ * * * other guise, And standing up At his baptismal fort, shall claim the wreath Due to the poet's temples." His Divine Comedy was already bringing him fame and reconciling him to his lot. ^ * For a tale tells that on his track. As through Verona's streets he went. This saying certain women sent: — *Lo, he that strolls to Hell and back At will ! Behold him, how Hell 's reek Has crisped his beard and singed his cheek. ' ^Whereat' (Boccaccio's words) *he smiled For pride in fame. ' It might be so ; Nevertheless we cannot know If haply he were not beguiPd To bitter mirth, who scarce could tell If he indeed were back from Hell." — Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Longfellow likens the Divine Comedy to a vast cathedral which we enter to pray, shutting out all thought of this world erewhile : ^*Oft have I seen, at some cathedral door, A laborer, pausing in the dust and heat, 59 Florence. Lay down Ms burden, and with reverent feet Enter, and cross himself, and on the floor Kneel to repeat his paternoster o'er; Far off the noises of the world retreat ; The loud vociferations of the street Become an undistinguishable roar. So, as I enter here from day to day, And leave my burden at this minster gate, Kneeling in prayer, and not ashamed to pray, The tumult of the time disconsolate To inarticulate murmurs dies away. While the eternal ages watch and wait. How strange the sculptures that adorn these towers ! This crowd of statues, in whose folded sleeves Birds build their nests; while canopied with leaves Parvis and portal bloom like trellised bowers, And the vast minster seems a cross of flowers ! But fiends and dragons on the gargoyled eaves Watch the dead Christ between the living thieves, And, underneath, the traitor Judas lowers. Ah ! from what agonies of heart and brain, What exultations, trampling on despair. What tenderness, what tears, what hate of wrong. What passionate outcry of soul in pain. Uprose this poem of the earth and air, This mediaeval miracle of song! 60 The Poet. I enter, and I see tliee in the gloom Of the long aisles, poet saturnine ! And strive to make my steps keep pace with thine. The air is filled with some unknown perfume ; The congregation of the dead make room For thee to pass ; the votive tapers shine ; Like rooks that haunt Ravenna 's groves of pine The hovering echoes fly from tomb to tomb. From the confessionals I hear arise Rehearsals of forgotten tragedies, And lamentations from the crypt below ; And then a voice celestial, that begins With the pathetic words, ^Although your sins As scarlet be, ' and ends with * as white as snow. ' With snow-white veil and garments as of flame, She stands before thee, who so long ago Filled thy young heart with passion and the woe From which thy song and all its splendors came; And while with stern rebuke she speaks thy name. The ice about thy heart melts as the snow On mountain heights, and in swift overflow Comes gushing from thy lips in sobs of shame. Thou makest full confession ; and a gleam, As if the dawn on some dark forest cast. Seems on thy lifted forehead to increase ; Lethe and Eunoe — the remembered dream 61 Florence. And the forgotten sorrow — bring at last That perfect pardon which is perfect peace. I lift mine eyes, and all the windows blaze With forms of saints and holy men who died, Here martyred and hereafter glorified; And the great Eose upon its leaves displays Christ 's triumph, and the angelic roundelays. With splendor upon splendor multiplied; And Beatrice again at Dante's side No more rebukes, but smiles her words of praise. And then the organ sounds, and unseen choirs Sing the old Latin hymns of peace and love, And benedictions of the Holy Ghost; And the melodious bells among the spires O'er all the housetops and through heaven above Proclaim the elevation of the Host ! star of morning and of liberty ! bringer of the light, whose splendor shines Above the darkness of the Apennines, Forerunner of the day that is to be ! The voices of the city and the sea, The voices of the mountains and the pines, Eepeat thy song, till the familiar lines Are footpaths for the thought of Italy! Thy fame is blown abroad from all the heights. Through all the nations, and a sound is heard. As of a mighty wind, and men devout. Strangers of Rome, and the new proselytes, 62 The Poet. In their own language hear thy wondrous word, And many are amazed and many doubt/' **And Dante searched the triple spheres, Moulding nature at his will. So shaped, so colored, swift or still. And, sculptor-like, his large design Etched on Alp and Apennine. ' ' — Ralph Waldo Emerson, **And now as manhood passes into age The struggle and the blessing have been mine To follow step by step, and line by line. The course of that transcendent pilgrimage. The forest wild, foul stream, and drear abyss. The sunlight ocean, and the mountain fair, The wondrous circles of the souls in bliss, Where light and music tremble in the air.'' — E, H, Plumtre. Nor did Dante neglect opportunities for growth during his exile. We hear of him in Paris and all the chief cities of Europe among the learned and the gifted. Eavenna was the last resting place in his earthly pilgrimage, as it is also the last resting place of his mortal remains, for the inhabitants of Eavenna stoutly refused to part with his body when in after years the Florentines peti- tioned for its return. 63 Florence. * * Ungrateful Florence ! Dante sleeps afar, Like Scipio, buried by tbe upbraiding shore; Thy factions, in their worse than civil war, Proscribed the bard whose name forevermore Thy children's children would in vain adore With the remorse of ages. * * * ** Happier Ravenna! on thy hoary shore, Fortress of falling empire! honored sleeps The immortal exile. ' ' — Byron, Neither did Eavenna yield the body when the powerful Medician, Pope Leo X, sent as ambassador to negotiate for it, Michael Angelo, who later apotheosized Dante in these sonnets : **What should be said of him cannot be said, By too great splendor is his name attached ; To blame is easier to those who him offended. Than reach the faintest glory round him shed. This man descended to the doomed and dead For our instruction, then to God ascended ; Heaven opened wide to him its portals splendid, Who, from his country's closed against him, fled. Ungrateful land, to its own prejudice Nurse of his fortunes ; and this showeth well That the most perfect, most of grief shall see. Among a thousand proofs let one suffice: That as his exile hath no parallel, Ne 'er walked the earth a greater man than he. ' ' — Translated by Henry W, Longfellow. 64 The Poet. ^ • Down to the dark abyss he went, and trod The one and the other hell; this purpose wrought, Instinct with thoughts sublime he soared to God; And the great truths thence gained to mortals taught ; Star of high valor ! from his depth of rays, On our dark minds eternal secrets blaze ; His sole reward that persecuting rod With which her heroes a base world requites ; Dante 's great mind left far behind the lights Of that ungrateful people whose applause Is ne 'er denied but to the wise and great ; Would I were such as he, mine the same fate, Happiest of all that can on mortals wait. Exile severe, endured in Virtue's cause.'' — Translated hy John S. Harford, ^^ Tender Dante loved his Florence well. While Florence now to love him is content. ' ' — Mrs. Browning. As the Florentines did not have his body to honor, they erected a cenotaph in Santa Croce — *^In Santa Croce 's church forlorn Of any corse, the architect and hewer Did pile the empty marbles as thy tomb" — and they instituted a chair of literature for the expounding of his great poem. That system of 65 Florence. lectures is still continued in Or San Michele, but in 1378 the lectures were delivered in the Ca- thedral of Santa Maria del Fiore and the lec- turer appointed by the Republic was Giovanni Boccaccio. The Florentines have Dante 's portrait on the walls of the Bargello, painted by Giotto, as we have said. ON A PORTRAIT OF DANTE BY GIOTTO. **Can this be thou, who, lean and pale, With such immitigable eye Didst look upon those writhing souls in bale. And note each vengeance, and pass by Unmoved, save when thy heart by chance Cast backward one forbidden glance. And saw Francesca, with child's glee, Subdue and mount thy wild-horse knee. And with proud hands control its fiery prance? With half-drooped lids, and smooth, round brow. And eye remote, that inly sees Fair Beatrice 's spirit wandering now In some sea-lulled Hesperides, Thou movest through the jarring street, Secluded from the noise of feet By her gift-blossom in thy hand. Thy branch of palm from Holy Land ; — No trace is here of ruin 's fiery sleet. 66 Portrait of Dante Giotto r ■ The Poet. Yet there is sometliing round thy lips That prophesies the coming doom, The soft, gray herald — shadow ere the eclipse Notches the perfect disk with gloom ; A something that would banish thee. And thine untamed pursuer be. From men and their unworthy fates, Though Florence had not shut her gates. And Grief had loosed her clutch and let thee free. Ah! he who follows fearlessly The beckoning of a poet-heart Shall wander, and without the world 's decree, A banished man in field and mart ; Harder than Florence 's walls the bar Which with deaf sternness holds him far From home and friends, till death's release. And makes his only prayer for peace. Like thine, scarred veteran of a lifelong war!" — James Russell Lowell. INSCRIPTION FOR A PORTRAIT OF DANTE. *' Dante Alighieri, a dark oracle Of wisdom and of art I am ; whose mind Has to my country such great gifts assigned That men account my powers a miracle. My lofty fancy passed as low as Hell, As high as Heaven, secure and unconfin'd; And in my noble book doth every kind Of earthly lore and heavenly doctrine dwell. 67 Florence. Eenowned Florence was my mother, — nay, Stepmother unto me her piteous son, Through sin of cursed slander's tongue and tooth. Ravenna sheltered me so cast away; My body is with her, — my soul with One For whom no envy can make dim the truth. ' ' — Giovanni Boccaccio, translated by Dante Ga- briel Rossetti. The same sonnet is thus translated by C. Gray: ^* Dante am I, — Minerva's son, who knew With skill and genius (though in style obscure) And elegance maternal to mature My toil, a miracle to mortal view. Through realms tartarean and celestial flew My lofty fancy, swift-winged and secure ; And ever shall my noble work endure, Fit to be read of men, and angels too. Florence, my earthly mother's glorious name; Stepdam to me, — whom from her side she thrust. Her duteous son; bear slanderous tongues the blame ; Ravenna housed my exile, holds my dust; My spirit is with Him from whom it came, — A Parent envy cannot make unjust. ' ' **Ah! thou, too. Sad Alighieri, like a waning moon Setting in storm behind a grove of bays! 68 The Poet. Yes, the great Florentine, who wove his web And thrust it into hell, and drew it forth Immortal, having burn'd all that conld burn, And leaving only what shall still be found Untouched, nor with the smell of fire upon it, Under the final ashes of this world. ' ' — Sydney DohelL On the occasion of the two hundredth anni- versary of Dante's birth his portrait on wood was installed in Santa Maria del Fiore, in which he is represented as holding in his hand the Divine Comedy from which rays of light issue — rays which illuminate, not only Florence, but all the world. The six hundredth anniversary of his birth was celebrated by the erection of a monument to him in front of Santa Croce. It is his statue nineteen feet high, wrought in white marble, and supported by a base ornamented with the shields of the four principal cities of Italy ; and at the request of the Florentines, Alfred Ten- nyson wrote this poem: TO DANTE. **King, that hast reigned six hundred years, and grown ' In power, and ever growest, since thine own Fair Florence honoring thy nativity. Thy Florence now the crown of Italy, Hath sought the tribute of a verse from me, I, wearing but the garland of a day. Cast at thy feet one flower that fades away. ' ' 69 Florence. BOSTON TO FLORENCE. ** Proud of her clustering spires, her new-built towers, Our Venice, stolen from the slumbering sea, A sister's kindliest greeting wafts to thee, Eose of Val d 'Arno, Queen of all its flowers ! Thine exile's shrine thy sorrowing love em- bowers. Yet none with truer homage bends the knee. Or stronger pledge of fealty brings than we. Whose poets make thy dead Immortal ours. Lonely the height, but ah, to heaven how near! Dante, whence flowed that solemn verse of thine Like the stern river from its Apennine Whose name the far-off Scythian thrilled with fear; Now to all lands thy deep-toned voice is dear. And every language knows the Song Divine!'' — Oliver Wendell Holmes, ON A BUST OF DANTE. '*See, from this counterfeit of him Whom Arno shall remember long. How stern of lineament, how grim, The father was of Tuscan song! There but the burning sense of wrong. Perpetual care, and scorn, abide — Small friendship for the lordly throng. Distrust of all the world beside. 70 The Poet. Faithful if this wan image be, No dream his life was — ^but a fight ; Could any Beatrice see A lover in that anchorite! To that cold Ghibelline's gloomy sight Who could have guessed the visions came Of beauty, veiled with heavenly light, In circles of eternal flame? The lips as Cumae's cavern close. The cheeks with fast and sorrow thin, The rigid front, almost morose, But for the patient hope within, Declare a life whose course hath been Unsullied still, though still severe. Which, through the wavering days of sin. Kept itself icy-chaste and clear. Not wholly such his haggard look When wandering once, forlorn, he strayed, With no companion save his book. To Corvo ^s hushed monastic shade ; Where, as the Benedictine laid His palm upon the pilgrim guest. The single boon for which he prayed The convent's charity was rest. Peace dwells not here — this rugged face Betrays no spirit of repose; The sullen warrior sole we trace. The marble man of many woes. 71 Florence. Such was his mien when first arose The thought of that strange tale divine — When hell he peopled with his foes, The scourge of many a guilty line. ^- ^ •)? ^ ^ time ! whose verdicts mock our own, The only righteous judge art thou ; That poor, old exile, sad and lone. Is Latium's other Virgil now. Before his name the nations bow; His words are parcel of mankind. Deep in whose hearts, as on his brow. The marks have sunk of Dante 's mind. ' ' — Thomas William Parsons. DANTE. '^Poet, whose unscarr'd feet have trodden Hell, By what grim path and dread environing Of fire couldst thou that dauntless footstep bring And plant it firm amid the dolorous cell Of darkness where perpetually dwell The spirits cursed beyond imaging? Or else is thine a visionary wing. And all thy terror but a tale to tell? Neither and both, thou seeker ! I have been No wilder path than thou thyself dost go. Close mask'd in an impenetrable screen. Which having rent, I gaze around, and know 72 The Poet. What tragic wastes of gloom, before unseen, Curtain the soul that strives and sins below/* — Richard Garnett, We see preserved even a stone on which Dante was wont to sit, ^^Sasso de Dante/' **0n that ancient seat. The seat of stone that runs along the wall. South of the Church, east of the belfry-tower, (Thou canst not miss it) in the sultry time Would Dante sit conversing and with those Who little thought that in his hand he held The balance, and assigned at his good pleasure To each his place in the invisible world. To some an upper region, some a lower; Many a transgressor sent to his account. Long ere in Florence numbered with the dead.'* — Rogers. ^ * Under the shadow of a stately Pile, The dome of Florence, pensive and alone. Nor giving heed to aught that passed the while, I stood, and gazed upon a marble stone. The laurelled Dante's favorite seat. A throne In just esteem, it rivals ; though no style Be there of decoration to beguile The mind, depressed by thought of greatness flown. As a true man, who long had served the lyre, I gazed with earnestness, and dared no more. But in his breast the mighty Poet bore 73 Florence. A Patriot's heart, warm with undying fire. Bold with the thought, in reverence I sate down, And, for a moment, filled the empty throne. ' ' — William Wordsworth. Mrs. Browning has it : **0n a stone Called Dante's, — a plain flat stone scarce dis- cerned From others on the pavement, — whereupon, He used to bring his quiet chair out, turned To Brunelleschi 's church, and pour alone The lava of his spirit when it burned ; It is not cold today. O passionate Poor Dante, who, a banished Florentine, Didst sit austere at banquets of the great. And muse upon this far-off stone of thine, And think how oft some passer used to wait A moment in the golden day's decline — With * Good-night, dearest Dante!' " Yes, good-night, dearest Dante! 74 CHAPTER IV. DANTE AND BEATRICE. "Of Florence and of Beatrice Servant and singer from of old, 'er Dante 's heart in youth had tolled The knell that gave his lady peace ; And now in manhood flew the dart Wherewith his city pierced his heart. Yet if his lady's home above Was heaven, on earth she filled his soul ; And if his city held control To cast the body forth to rove. The soul could soar from earth's vain throng, And heaven and hell fulfil the song. ' ' — Dante Gabriel Rossetti, # # * * * We mark the spot on which Dante was wont to stand to watch for a glimpse of her, for love of whom, and as a monument to that love, he builded up his mighty poem which reaches out from the depths of hell to the heights of bliss — of which love even Thomas Carlyle, that crusty old dyspeptic, said, ^ * In all the range of human 75 Florence. affection, there was never a passion so pure and so absorbing as that of Dante and Beatrice. ' ' The picture called the Meeting of Dante and Beatrice by the English artist Holiday, which we see copied so extensively — especially on Florentine post cards, illustrates their second meeting, immortalized in the Vita Nuova, as is also their first meeting : ^^Nine times now, since my birth, the heaven of light had turned almost to the same point in its own revolution, when the glorious Lady of my mind, who was called Beatrice by many who knew not what to call her, first appeared before my eyes. She had already been in this life the length of time that in its course the starry heaven had moved toward the region of the East one of the twelve parts of a degree; so that it was about the beginning of her ninth year she appeared to me, and I was near the end of my ninth year when I saw her. She ap- peared to me clothed in a most noble color, a modest and becoming crimson, and she was adorned in such wise as befitted her very youth- ful age. At that instant, I say truly that the spirit of life, which dwells in the most secret chamber of the heart, began to tremble with such violence that it appeared fearfully in the least pulsation, and, trembling, said these words: Eoice deus fortior me, qtii veniens dominabitur miJii. (Behold a god stronger than I, who com- ing shall rule over me.) 76 Dante and Beatrice. When so many days had passed that nine years were exactly complete since the above- described apparition of this gentle lady, on the last of these days it happened that this ad- mirable lady appeared to me, clothed in purest white, between two gentle ladies of greater age than herself, and, passing along a street, turned her eyes toward that place where I stood very timidly; and by her ineffable courtesy, which is today rewarded in the eternal world, saluted me with such virtue that I was carried to the seventh heaven of bliss. That hour when her most sweet salutation reached me was precisely the ninth of that day ; and since it was the first time that her words came to my ears, I took in such sweetness that, as it were intoxicated, I turned away from the folk ; and, betaking my- self to the solitude of my own chamber, I sat myself down to think of this most courteous lady. ' ' — Dante. This sonnet of Dante's also commemorates that meeting: 77 Florence. SONNET OF BEATRICE DE'PORTINARI ON ALL SAINTS' DAY. **Last All Saints' holy-day, even now gone by, I met a gathering of damozels ; She that came first, as one doth who excells, Had Love with her, hearing her company ; A flame burned forward through her steadfast eye, As when in living fire a spirit dwells ; So, gazing with the boldness which prevails O'er doubt, I knew an angel visibly. As she passed on, she bowed her mild approof And salutation to all men of worth, Lifting the soul to solemn thoughts aloof. In heaven itself that lady had her birth, I think, and is with us for our behoof ; Blessed are they who meet her on the earth.'* . — Dante Gabriel Rossetti's Translation, After that first salutation by Beatrice, Dante had a marvelous dream, which impressed him so much that he sought interpretation for it is this sonnet: DANTE'S DREAM. **To every heart that feels the gentle flame, To whom this present saying comes in sight, In that to me their thoughts they may indite, All health! in Love, our lord and master's name, 78 Dante and Beatrice Holiday Dante's Dream Rossetti Dante and Beatrice. Now on its way the second quarter came Of those twelve hours wherein the stars are bright, When Love was seen before me, in such might. As to remember shakes with awe my frame. Suddenly came he, seeming glad, and keeping My heart in hand ; and in his arms he had My Lady in a folded garment sleeping. He waked her; and that heart all burning bade Her feed upon, in lowly guise and sad, Then from my view he turned; and parted, weeping.'' — Gary's Translation. That dream has been interpreted by many, both in poetry and in art. Guido Cavalcante, among others of Dante's contemporaries, an- swered it in the following sonnet, and from thenceforward was a warm friend of the poet and is ^'the first of my friends," mentioned by him in the Commedia : **Unto my thinking, thou beheld 'st all worth, All joy, as much of good as man may know, If thou wert in his power who here below Is honor's righteous lord throughout this earth. Where evil dies, even there he has his birth. Whose justice out of pity's self doth grow. Softly to sleeping persons he will go. And, with no pain to them, their hearts draw forth. 79 Florence. Thy heart he took, as knowing well, alas ! That death had claimed thy lady for a prey; In fear thereof, he fed her with thy heart. But when he seemed in sorrow to depart, Sweet was thy dream, for by that sign, I say. Surely the opposite shall come to pass. ' * — Translated hy Dante Gabriel Rossetti. BEATA BEATRIX. ^^And was it thine, the light whose radiance shed Love's halo round the gloom of Dante's brow? Was thine the hand that touched his hand, and thou The spirit to his inmost spirit wed? gentle, most pure, what shall be said In praise of thee to whom Love's minstrels bow? heart that held his heart forever now Thou with his glory shall be garlanded. Lo, 'mid the twilight of the waning years, Firenze claims once more our love, our tears; But thou, triumphant on the throne of song — By Mary seated in the realm above — give us of that gift than death more strong. The loving spirit that won Dante's love." — Samuel Waddington. ^* Dante once prepared to paint an angel: Whom to please? You whisper, * Beatrice.' While he mused and traced it and retraced it, 80 BcatJi E('atrix RoHscUi Dante and Beatrice. (Peradventure with a pen corroded Still by drops of that hot ink he dipped for, When, his left-hand in the hair o ' the wicked, Back he held the brow, and pricked its stigma, Bit into the live man's flesh for parchment. Loosed him, laughed to see the writing rankle, Let the wretch go festering through Florence), Dante, who loved well because he hated. Hated wickedness that hinders loving, Dante, standing, studying his angel, — In there broke the folk of his Inferno. Says he, * Certain people of importance' (Such he gave his daily dreadful line to) ^Entered and would seize the poet.' Says the poet, * Then I stopped my painting. ' You and I will never see that picture. While he mused on love and Beatrice, While he softened o'er his outlined angel. In they broke, those ^People of importance,' We and Bice the loss forever." — Robert Browning, ON THE ''VITA NUOVA" OF DANTE. **As he that loves oft looks on the dear form And guesses how it grew to womanhood. And gladly would have watched the beauties bud And the mild fire of precious life wax warm — So I, long bound within the threefold charm 81 Florence. Of Dante 's love sublimed to heavenly mood, Had marveled, touching his Beatitude, How grew such presence from man's shameful swarm. At length within his book I found portrayed Newborn that Paradisal love of his, And simple like a child ; with whose clear aid I understood. To such a child as this, Christ, charging well his Chosen ones, forbade Offence : ^ For lo ! of such my kingdom is. ' ' — Dante Gabriel Rossetti. This is Dante's last description of Beatrice as his guide in the Paradiso, and also as he views her after she has resumed her seat in the high heavens — vacated to help him thither : *^ Wherefore love. With loss of other object, forced me bend Mine eyes on Beatrice once again. If all, that hitherto is told of her. Were in one praise concluded, 'twere too weak To furnish out this turn. Mine eyes did look On beauty, such, as I believe, in sooth, Not merely to exceed our human; but. That save its Maker, none can to the fullest Enjoy it. At this point o'erpower'd I fail, Unequal to my theme, as never bard Of buskin or of sock hath failed before. For as the sun doth to the feeblest sight E 'en so remembrance of that witching smile 82 ■5S Dante and Beatrice Ary Scheffer Dante and Beatrice. Hath dispossest my spirit of itself. Not from that day, when on this earth I first Beheld her charms, up to that view of them, Have I with song applausive ceased To follow ; but now follow them no more ; My course here bounded, as each artist's is, When it doth touch the limit of his skill. Answering not, mine eyes I raised, And saw her, where aloft she sat, her brow A wreath reflecting of eternal beams. Not from the center of the sea so far Unto the region of the highest thunder, As was my ken from hers ; and yet the f orni Came through that medium down, unmix 'd and pure. * lady ! thou in whom my hopes have rest ; Who, for my safety, hath not scorn 'd, in hell, To leave the traces of thy footsteps marked; For all mine eyes have seen, I to thy power And goodness, virtue, owe and grace. Of slave, Thou hast to freedom brought me; and no means, For my reliverance apt, hath left untried. Thy liberal bounty still toward me keep : That, when my spirit, which thou madest whole, Is loosen 'd from this body, it may find Favor with thee.' So I my suit preferred; And she, so distant, as appeared, look'd down And smiled." — Gary's Translation. 83 CHRONOLOGICAL RESUME AT THE CLOSE OF THE THIRTEENTH CENTURY. St. Lawrence martyred 258 San Lorenzo Church built 393 St. Zanobius buried in San Lorenzo . 440 St. Benedict 480— 543 Baptistery founded 589 St. Martino's Church built 986 Badia built 993 Porphyry columns for Baptistery from Pisa 1114 St. Dominic 1170—1221 St. Francis of Assisi 1182—1226 Florin coined 1181 Office of Podesta established 1199 Franciscans came to Florence 1212 Dominicans came to Florence 1220 Arnolfo di Cambio 1232—1300 Order of Servites founded 1233 Cimabue 1240—1302 Palace of the Podesta built 1260 Guilds established 1265 Dante 1265—1321 St. Juliana 1270—1340 Pisano 1273—1349 Giotto 1276—1336 85 Florence. Eepublic of Florence established . . . 1283 Or San Michele Loggia built 1284 Baptistery remodeled 1293 Santa Maria Novello built 1294 Boniface VIII made pope 1294 Santa Croce built 1294 Duomo San Maria del Fiore begun . . 1296 Palazzo VeccMo built 1298 86 CHAPTER V. THE RENAISSANCE: PETRARCH. **Now, tell us what is Italy T' men ask; < < Why, Boccaccio, Dante, Petrarch. '* — Mrs, Browning. **But where repose the all Etruscan three — Dante, and Petrarch, and, scarce less than they, The Bard of Prose, creative spirit! he Of the Hundred Tales of Love — where did they lay Their bones, distinguished from our common clay In death as life.'' — Byron. **Nor Alighieri, shall thy praise be lost. Who from the confines of the Stygian coast. As Beatrice led thy willing steps along. To realms of light, and starry mansions sprung ; Nor Petrarch, thou whose soul-dissolving strains. Rehearse, love ! thy triumphs and thy pains ; Nor he, whose hundred tales the means impart, To wind the secret snare around the heart; Be these thy boast, Florence ! these thy pride. Thy sons! whose genius spreads thy glory wide. ' ' — Politiano. 87 Florence. At the time of Dante's banishment from Florence, in 1302, one of those condemned with him was a notary named Petracco di Messer Parenzo. (Petracco in Italian is the diminutive of Peter.) This Petracco with his family took up his abode in Arezzo, and the second year after that date, in 1304, a child was born to him and was named Francesco. Francesco di Petracco — Francis of Peter — rendered in Latin gives us Francesco Petrarca. The English form is Petrarch, a name great in the annals of lit- erature. Petrarch then was not born in Florence, al- though it was the home of his ancestors, but his name is associated with the city ,and he was a shining light whose reflection made Florence first of all cities resplendent. Petrarch, the morning star of the Renais- sance, the poet, the collector of rare manu- scripts; Petrarch, the elegant dresser, the or- nament of courts, the handsome scholar, was first and foremost the lover of Laura. Dante and Beatrice, Petrarch and Laura! Laura is immortalized because she inspired the poet with a passion so pure, so exalted, and so Intense that it must needs express itself in measured forms till then unknown. The son- net had been born, the octava rima, and Pe- trarch's use of it has given his name to one of its forms. His sonnets to Laura take rank with the odes 88 Petrarch. of Pindar, and early brought him fame and honor. He had studied at the University of Bologna and other great universities of Eu- rope, and when young went to the papal court, then at Avignon, where he was proffered the much coveted post of papal secretary of state, which post he declined, being desirous of free- dom for his intellectual pursuits. He had de- veloped a passion for the classics — the Latin and Greek authors, and strove to emulate them, especially Cicero and Virgil. It was at Avignon in St. Clara 's Church that he first saw Laura. The date of the meeting — April 6th, 1327 — is recorded by the poet's own hand in a copy of his Virgil, which is preserved as a treasure in the Ambrosian Library at Milan. His passion was unrequited, so he poured out his soul in his lyrics: ^* Young was the damsel under the green laurel. Whom I beheld more white and cold than snow By sun unsmitten, many, many years. w •n* vE* w w There never have been such glorious eyes. Either in our age or in eldest years ; And they consume me as the sun does snow ; Wherefore Love leads my tears, like streams ashore. Under the foot of that obdurate laurel. Which boughs of adamant hath, and golden hair. ' ' — Translated by Charles Bagot Cayley, 89 Florence. ^^Divinest Petrarcli! lie whose lyre Like morning light, half dew, half fire, To Laura and to love was vowed — He looked on one, who with the crowd Mingled, not mixed ; one on whose cheek There was a blnsh, as if she knew Whose look was fixed on hers. Her eye, Of a spring-sky's delicious blue. Had not the language of that bloom. But mingling tears, and light and gloom, Was raised abstractedly to heaven ; — No sign was to her lover given. I painted her with golden tresses. Such as float on the wind's caresses When the laburnums wildly fling Their sunny blossoms to the spring. A cheek which had the crimson hue Upon the sun-touched nectarine; A lip of perfume and of dew; A brow like twilight's darkened line. I strove to catch each charm that long Has lived, — thanks to her lover's song! Each grace he numbered one by one. That shone in her of Avingnon. I ever thought that poet's fate Utterly lone and desolate. It is the spirit 's bitterest pain To love, to be loved again. And yet between, a gulf which ever 90 Petrarch. The hearts that burn to meet must sever. And he was vowed to one sweet star Bright yet to him, but bright afar.'' — L, E. Landon. The dawn of the new love for learning was just peeping over the horizon of the (then) western world, and men looked up in awe and admiration to the greatness of Petrarch's genius. Kings were eager to have so desirable an ac- quisition grace their courts and vied with one another in entertaining him. The rulers of Venice voted him a palace in return for a prom- ise of his library, Florence offered to restore the goods of his father, confiscated by his ban- ishment, if he would come and reside within her walls, and the Senate of Eome invited him to deliver an oration on poetry, and when he as- cended the steps of the Capitol to do so, crowned him with a laurel, thus making him poet lau- reate, ** Whose rhetorique sweeti Culumyned all Ytale of poetrie. ' ' — Chaucer, That crown he hastened to put upon the al- tar of St. Peter's church — a symbolic action. **And the crown Which Petrarch's laureate brow supremely wore, 91 Florence. Upon a far and foreign soil had grown, His life, Ms fame, his grave, though rifled, not thine own" — Byron reminds the city of Florence. Though Dante had chosen Virgil as his ** sa- pient Guide'' through the Inferno of his great poem, and though he mentions Homer as the ** Monarch of sublimest song," still his love for the old writers was not of that intense form that possessed Petrarch, and his subject mat- ter, moreover, was distinctly mediaeval ; so not to him, but to Petrarch, is accorded the honor of being the first of the Eenaissance writers. **And buried learning was redeemed to a new life." Petrarch, however, has not lived to fame through his Latin compositions, nor through his knowledge of Greek, which was not exten- sive, but to his sonnets to Laura, which were written in the vernacular. From Petrarch's sonnets: THE BEAUTY OF LAURA IS PEERLESS. **In one fair star I saw two brilliant eyes. With sweetness, modesty, so glistening o'er. That soon those graceful nests of Love before My worn heart learnt all others to despise ; Equall'd not her whoever won the prize In ages gone on any foreign shore ; Not she to Greece whose wondrous beauty bore 92 Petrarch. Numbered ills, to Troy death's anguish 'd cries, Not the fair Eoman, who, with ruthless blade Piercing her chaste and outraged bosom, fled Dishonor worse than death, like charms dis- played; Such excellence should brightest glory shed On Nature, as on me supreme delight, But, ah! too lately come, too soon it takes its flight." — Translated hy Thomas Campbell, ^^Time was her tresses by the breathing air Were wreathed to many a ringlet golden bright, Time was her eyes diffused unmeasured light, Her face methought that in its blushes showed Compassion, her angelic shape and walk, Her voice that seemed with Heaven's own speech to talk, — At these, what wonder that my bosom glowed! A living sun she seemed — a spirit of heaven. Those charms decline; but does my passion? No! I love not less — the slackening of the bow Assuages not the wound its shaft has given. ' ' — Translated hy Thomas Campbell. The same sonnet is translated by Wrottesley : ^*Her golden tresses to the gale were streaming, That in a thousand knots did them entwine. And the sweet rays which now so rarely shine From her enchanting eyes were brightly beam- ing. 93 Florence. And — was it fancy? — o'er that dear face gleam- ing Methinks I saw Compassion's tint divine; What marvel that this ardent heart of mine Blazed swiftly forth, impatient of Love's dreaming! There was naught mortal in her stately tread But grace angelic, and her speech awoke Than human voices a far loftier sound. A spirit of heaven, — a living sun she broke Upon my sight, — ^what if these charms be fled? The slackening of the bow heals not the wound. ' ' PROEMIO. Voi, ch' ascoltate in rime sparse il suono. **Ye who shall hear amidst my scattered lays The sighs with which I fanned and fed my heart. When, young and glowing, I was but in part The man I am become in later days, — Ye who have marked the changes of my style From vain despondency to hope as vain. From him among you who has felt love's pain I hope for pardon, ay, and pity's smile. Though conscious, now, my passion was a theme Long idly dwelt on by the public tongue, I blush for all the vanities I've sung, And find the world's applause a fleeting dream. ' ' — Translated by Thomas Campbell. 94 Petraech. Vaucluse, 19 miles from Avignon, in France, is famous because Petrarch lived there for 16 years; it is famous also for its fountain. ^^For here, by Sorgue's sequestered stream, Did Petrarch fly from fame, and dream Life's noonday light away; Here build himself a studious hame, And, careless of the crowns of Rome, To Laura lend his lay. ' ' — Alfred Austin, TO THE FOUNTAIN OP VAUCLUSE. ** Ye limpid brooks, by whose clear streams My goddess laid her tender limbs ! Ye gentle boughs, whose friendly shade Gave shelter to the lovely maid! Ye herbs and flowers, so sweetly press 'd By her soft rising, snowy breast! Ye Zephyrs mild, that breathed around The place where Love my heart did wound ! Now at my summons all appear, And at my dying words give ear. If then my destiny requires. And Heaven with my fate conspires. That Love these eyes should weeping close, Here let me find a soft repose. So Death will less my soul affright And, free from dread, my weary spright 95 Florence. Naked alone will dare t'essay The still unknown, though beaten way ; Pleased that her mortal part will have So safe a port, so sweet a grave. The cruel fair, for whom I burn, May one day to these shades return, And smiling with superior grace, Her lover seek around this place, And when instead of me she finds Some crumbling dust tossed by the winds, She may feel pity in her breast. And, sighing, with me happy rest. Drying her eyes with her soft veil. Such tears must sure with Heaven prevail. Well I remember how the flowers Descended from these boughs in showers. Encircled in the fragrant cloud She sat, nor 'mid such glory proud. These blossoms to her lap repair. These fall upon her flowing hair, (Like pearls envased in gold they seem) ; These on the ground, these on the stream ; In giddy sounds these dancing say, Here Love and Laura only sway. In rapturous wonder oft I said, Sure she in Paradise was made. Thence sprang that bright angelic state. Those looks, those words, that heavenly gait, 96 Petrarch. That beauteous smile, that voice divine, Those graces that around her shine. Transported I beheld the fair. And sighing cried, How came I there ? In Heaven amongst the immortal blest, Here let me fix and ever rest. ' ' — Francesco Petrarca, translated by Moles- worth. VAUCLUSE. ** Never till now so clearly have I seen Her whom my eyes desire, my soul still views ; Never enjoyed a freedom thus serene; Ne'er thus to Heaven breathed my enamour 'd muse. As in this vale sequestered, darkly green. Where my soothed heart its pensive thought pursues. And nought intrusively may intervene. And all my sweetly tender sighs renews. To Love, and meditation, faithful shade, Receive the breathings of my grateful breast ! Love not in Cyprus found so sweet a rest As this, by pine and arching laurels made ! The birds, breeze, water, branches, whisper love; Herb, flower and verdant path the lay sympho- nious move.'* — Petrarch, translated by Capel Lofft, 97 Florence. ON HIS RETURN TO VAUCLUSE. ^ ' Ye vales, made vocal by my plaintive lay ; Ye streams, embittered with the tears of love ; Ye tenants of the sweet melodious grove ; Ye tepid gales, to which my sighs convey A softer warmth; ye flowery plains, that move Eeflection sad; ye hills, where yet I rove. Since Laura there first taught my steps to stray ; — You, you are still the same ! How changed, alas, Am I ! who, from a state of life so blest. Am now the gloomy dwelling-place of woe ! 'Twas here I saw my love : here still I trace Her parting steps, when she her mortal vest Cast to the earth, and left these scenes below. ' ' — Petrarch, translator uriknown. HE REVISITS VAUCLUSE. ' * Once more, ye balmy gales, I feel you blow ; Again, sweet hills, I mark the morning beams Gild your green summits; while your silver streams Through vales of fragrance undulating flow. But you, ye dreams of bliss, no longer here Give life and beauty to the glowing scene : For stern remembrance stands where you have been. And blasts the verdure of the blooming year. Laura ! Laura ! in the dust with thee. Would I could find a refuge from despair I 98 ^ Petrarch. Is this thy boasted triumph, Love, to tear A heart thy coward malice dares not free ; And bid it live, while every hope is fled, To weep, among the ashes of the dead? — Petrarchj translated by Anne Bannerman. PETRARCA'S RETREAT. ** Vaucluse, ye hills and glades and shady vale So long the noble Tuscan bard's retreat, When warm his heart for cruel Laura beat. As lone he wandered in thy beauteous dale ! Ye flowers, which heard him oft his pains bewail In tones of love and sorrow, sad, but sweet ! Ye dells and rocks, whose hollow side repeat, Even yet, his ancient passion's moving tale! Fountain, which pourest out thy water's green In ever-flowing stream the Sorgue to fill. Whose charms the lovely Arno's emulate! How deeply I revere your holy scene. Which breathes throughout the immortal poet still, Whom I, perchance all vainly, imitate ! ' ' — Luigi Alamanni. TO VAUCLUSA. **What though, Vauclusa, the fond bard be fled That wooed his fair in thy sequestered bow- ers. Long loved her living, long bemoaned her dead, And hung her visionary shrine with flowers? 99 Florence. What though no more he teach thy shades to mourn The hapless chances that to love belong, As erst, when drooping o 'er her turf forlorn. He charmed wild Echo with his plaintive song? Yet still, enamoured of the tender tale. Pale Passion haunts thy grove's romantic gloom. Yet still soft music breathes in every glade Still undecayed the fairy-garlands bloom. Still heavenly incense fills each fragrant vale, Still Petrarch's Genius weeps o'er Laura's tomb." — Thomas Russell, Petrarch died at Arqua, near Padua, where his home is still preserved: ** Arqua, too, her store Of tuneful relics proudly claims and keeps. While Florence vainly begs her banished dead, and weeps." — Byron, ** Three leagues from Padua stands, and long has stood (The Padua student knows it, honors it) A lonely tomb, beside a mountain church # # # # # When, as alive, clothed in his canon's stole. And slowly winding down the narrow path, He came to rest there, nobles of the land, 100 Petrarch. Princes and prelates mingled in his train, Anxious by any act, while yet they could To catch a ray of glory by reflection. And from that hour have kindred spirits flocked From distant countries from the north, the south, To see where he is laid.'' — Rogers. * ' There is a tomb in Arqua, reared in air. Pillared in their sarcophagus, repose The bones of Laura 's lover ; here repair Many familiar with his well-sung woes, The pilgrims of his genius. He arose To raise a language and his land reclaim. From the dull yoke of her barbaric foes ; Watering the tree which bears his lady's name With his melodious tears, he gave himself to fame. They keep his dust in Arqua, where he died ; The mountain village where his latter days Went down the vale of years; and 'tis their pride — An honest pride, and let it be their praise — To offer to the passing stranger's gaze His mansion and his sepulchre ; both plain And venerably simple, such as raise A feeling more accordant with his strain. Than if a pyramid form 'd his monumental fane. 101 Florence. And the soft, quiet hamlet where he dwelt Is one of that complexion which seems made For those who their mortality have felt, And sought a refuge from their hopes de- cayed In the deep umbrage of a green hill's shade, Which shows a distant prospect far away, Of busy cities, now in vain displayed; For they can lure no further; and the ray Of a bright sun can make sufficient holiday. ' ' — Byron. ON THE TOMB OF PETRARCH. **Ye consecrated marbles, proud and dear, Blest, that the noblest Tuscan ye infold. And in your walls his holy ashes hold. Who, dying, left none greater, none his peer ; Since I, with pious hand, with soul sincere, Oan send on high no costly perfumed fold Of frankincense, and o'er the sacred mould Where Petrarch lies no gorgeous altars rear; 0, scorn not, if humbly I impart My grateful offering to these lovely shades. Here bending low in singleness of mind ! Lilies and violets sprinkling to the wind. Thus Damon prays, while the bright hills and glades, Murmur, ' The gift is small, but rich the heart. ' ' ' — Benedetto Varchi. 102 CHAPTER VI. THE RENAISSANCE: BOCCACCIO. The Renaissance had many phases, one — and at first the chief one — was the desire for reading the classics ; then came a revival of new inter- ests and ideas roused by such reading. The mediaeval idea of life was that it should be nothing more than a preparation for death, with the mind fixed u£on eternity. Now there came into people's consciousness with the beauty of language and thought from the great storehouse of ages, a new sense of beauty, even of this life which was erstwhile only a vale of tears, and they reveled in the new found treas- ure. Beauty of form, beauty of thought, beauty of expression, beauty of life; an awakening, an eagerness, a new birth, — that was the Renais- sance ; and though the thirst for knowledge was advocated and followed by the greatest intel- lects of the time, still the intellectual beauty was often accompanied by many pictures of the pagan excesses in the delights of this world, *Hhe flesh and the devil,'' and into that class of literature may we place the work of our Flor- entine writer of the age — Giovanni Boccaccio. 103 Florence. He was eight years old when Dante died, and was early known as a poet, a writer of songs, and a gallant, given to love and adventure, ^^a light o ' love ' ' ; but in later life he reformed and took up the study of the classics and followed and spread the light of the **new birth,'' having, while Florentine ambassador, visited Rome, Avignon and Eavenna and formed a life-long friendship with Petrarch. The following sonnet was written by him in connection with his lectures on Dante: TO ONE WHO HAD CENSURED HIS PUBLIC EXPOSITION OF DANTE. **If Dante mourns, there wheresoever he be. That such high fancies of a soul so proud Should be laid open to the vulgar crowd, (As, touching my Discourse, I'm told by thee) This were my grievous pain ; and certainly My proper blame should not be disavowed; Though hereof somewhat, I declare aloud, Were due to others, not alone to me. False hopes, true poverty, and therewithal The blinded judgment of a host of friends. And their entreaties, made that I did thus. But of all this there is no gain at all Urito the thankless souls with whose base ends Nothing agrees that's great or generous." — Translated by Dante Gabriel RossettL 104 Boccaccio. Boccaccio is known to fame for his prose work, the Decameron. Though written in the vernacular and with the subject matter local, the style is classic, and it laid the foundation of modern Italian prose. In 1348, the Plague — the Black Death which devastated all Europe — visited Florence, and Boccaccio in the Decameron * * Ten Days ' ' takes in imagination three men and seven women to a villa near Florence, the Villa Palmieri — now called the Villa Crawford — and with a *4et us eat, drink and be merry ' ^ spirit, they while away the time in song and story, shutting out all thought of the horrors around them. The num- ber of stories — which Boccaccio calls novels— is one hundred, one story a day from each person, and many of them are extremely sensual. We can trace the tales in English literature from Chaucer down to the present time, but the authors who have used them, have not done so, in some cases, to the elevation of their moral tone; however, Alfred Tennyson, in his high- mindedness, chose one worthy of his versifying, of which only a small part is given here : THE GOLDEN SUPPER. (A young lover, Julian, whose cousin and foster-sister, Camilla, has been wedded to his friend and rival, Lionel, en- deavors to narrate the story of his own love for her, and the strange sequel to it. He speaks of having been haunted in delirium by visions and the sound of bells, sometimes tolling 105 Florence. for a funeral, and at last ringing for a marriage; but he breaks away, overcome, as he approaches the Event, and a witness to it completes the tale.) * * He flies the event : he leaves the event to me : Poor Julian — how he rushed away ; the bells, Those marriage-bells, echoing in ear and heart, But cast a parting glance at me, you saw, As who would say, * ' Continue. ' ' Well, he had One golden hour — of triumph, shall I say? Solace at least — ^before he left his home. Would you had seen him in that hour of his ! He moved thro' all of it majestically — Restrained himself quite to the close — but now, Whether they were his lady's marriage bells, Or prophets of them in his fantasy, I never ask'd: but Lionel and the girl Were wedded, and our Julian came again Back to his mother's house among the pines. But there, their gloom, the mountains and the Bay, The whole land weighed him down as Etna does The Giant of Mythology; he would go, Would leave the land forever, and had gone Surely, but for a whisper, **Go not yet," Some warning, and divinely as it seem'd By that which followed — but of this I deem As of the visions that he told — the event Glanc'd back upon them in his after life, And partly made them — tho ' he knew it not. 106 Boccaccio. And thus lie stayed and would not look at lier — No, not for months : but, when the eleventh moon After their marriage lit the lover's Bay, Heard yet once more the tolling bell, and said, Would you could toll me out of life, but found — All softly, as his mother broke it to him — A crueler reason than a crazy ear, For that low knell tolling his lady dead — Dead — and had lain three days without a pulse : All that looked on her had pronounced her dead. And so they bore her (for in Julian's land They never nail a dumb head up in elm). Bore her free-faced to the free air of heaven. And laid her in the vault of her own kin. What did he then? not die : he is here and hale — Not plunge headforemost from the mountain there, And leave the name of Lover's Leap : not he : He knew the meaning of the whisper now, Thought that he knew it. *This, I stay'd for this; love, I have not seen you for so long. Now, now, will I go down into the grave, 1 will be all alone with all I love. And kiss her lips. She is his no more: The dead returns to me, and I go down To kiss the dead. ' The fancy stirr'd him so He rose and went, and entering the dim vault. And, making there a sudden light, beheld 107 Florence. All round Mm that which all will be. The light was but a flash, and went again. Then at the far end of the vault he saw His lady with the moonlight on her face ; Her breast as in a shadow-prison, bars Of black and bands of silver, which the moon Struck from the grating overhead High in the wall, and all the rest of her Drowned in the gloom and horror of the vault. *It was my wish,' he said, *to pass, to sleep, To rest, to be with her — till the great day PeaPd on us with that music which rights all, And raised us hand in hand.' And kneeling there Down in the dreadful dust that once was man, Dust, as he said, that once was loving hearts. Hearts that had beat with such a love as mine — Not such as mine, no, nor for such as her — He softly put his arm about her neck And kiss'd her more than once, till helpless death And silence made him bold — nay, but I wrong him, He reverenced his dear lady even in death ; But, placing his true hand upon her heart, ^0, you warm heart,' he moaned, ^not even death Can chill you all at once ' ; then starting, thought His dreams had come again. ^Do I wake or sleep? Or am I made immortal, or my love 108 Boccaccio. Mortal once moreT It beat — the heart — it beat: Faint — but it beat : at which his own began To pulse with such a vehemence that it drowned The feebler motion underneath his hand.'' (He takes her from her swoon, back to her mother 's home, and finally restores her safe and sound to her husband.) ' * This love is of the brain, the mind, the soul : That makes the sequel pure ; tho ' some of us Beginning at the sequel, know no more.*' And the following amusing rendition of another tale is certainly innocuous ! A STORY FROM BOCCACCIO. * * I have got a certain habit that approacheth to a merit. Yet is something of a weakness and a trifle of a bore ; 'Tis that when I meet a pleasure, I must call a friend to share it. Or I miss of its enjoyment half the luxury or more. Thus — ^when some good-natured crony sends a partridge or a pheasant. Or a trout or river-salmon, that is not enough for two, 109 Florence. For my life I can't sit down to dine alone, how- ever unpleasant Comes the mutton anti-climax that must eke the dinner through. Or, again — I've got a garden, rather famous for its roses, But still more so for its artichokes, its beans, and early peas : Well, when any of these favorites begin to show their noses, I approach the garden-wall and cry, *Step here, sir, if you please.' 'Tis to Mr. Jones, my neighbor, to partake my exultation, But, if Mr. Jones be absent from his rake and pruning-hook, I must press the nearest biped in the cause of admiration, If it 's only Tom, the stable-boy, or Margery, the cook. So, in Literature's garden, when I've met a song or story That has raised a pleasant smile, or caused ^ pleasant tear descend, Should you chance to call upon me, be admon- ished I should bore ye With the whole of the transaction from begin- ning to the end. 110 Boccaccio. I've been reading in Boccaccio, where I stum- bled o'er a treasure That I'd somehow overlooked, although I've loved the book for years, It's a quarter after midnight, and I can't expect the pleasure Of a visitor to favor me with sympathy and ears. So I'll put the tale on paper, just as well as I can do it, (For I can't wait till the morning for a call from Mr. Jones), And I fancy, e 'en in my hands, you '11 be able to get through it. As, in any clumsy setting, we can value pre- cious stones. It was in the land of gardens (by the way, I've never been there ; So the charms of local color you had better not expect). In a garden among gardens. Nature 's blue, and gold, and green, there Were concentred — as in Eden, Eve a bower might have decked. By the way, pray understand me — ^misconcep- tion's always humbling — ( 'Tis of Italy I speak) : a Eoman villa there had stood; 111 Florence. And with moss and vines half hidden, broken columns lay a-crumbling, "Which I won't attempt to paint, as only Mr. Ruskin could. And, were I to try the beauties of the sky and sea and ocean To depict, our traveled critics would be quickly down on me ; All I want is to convey a golden, dreamy kind of notion Of a garden in the sunset, by the Adriatic Sea. Well — there sat two lovers, loving, neither gos- siping nor moving. Ne'er a sigh or kiss exchanging, nor a word did either say: They were simply, I repeat it, sitting quietly and loving; Which is quite an occupation, I can tell you, in its way. They were young and good and happy — more description where 's the need of? Is it necessary, even, to inform you they were fair? Since that goodness, youth and happiness, from all I see and read of, Are to Beauty just as Oxygen, and Nitrogen to Air. 112 Boccaccio. So I give yon a carte blanche of their external forms and dresses, All the details to fill in ; you may indulge your tastes at ease In the choice of ladies' fashion, and in hue of eyes and tresses. And the gentlemen may clothe in any colored stuffs you please. Well, they sat there, never moving, only sitting still and loving. With their hands and souls united, and their faces looking calm; Drinking bliss at each heart 's pore — no thought of questioning or proving — Do the lilies think of analyzing zephyr's pleas- ant balm? But, alas ! (I'm but a Cockney; you must pardon me some triteness In my images from nature) in its pride of dewy gem. Little recks the happy lily, with its snowy, saucy whiteness. Of the brewing gust from northward, that will snap it from its stem. So, alas! with my two lovers, at their lazy, happy loving. With their hearts from doubt and trouble as their sky from cloudlet, free, 113 Florence. With the hundred thousand influences round them sweetly moving, Of the garden, and the sunset, and the Adri- atic Sea. To the story! it's a short one: 'faith a line or two would tell it. Yet a folio not exhaust it (there's a verse in Holy Writ That contains but two short words, in half a second you can spell it. Yet the mighty Volume's purport is concen- tred all in it). In the grass, among the flowers, plucking cro- cus-cup and daisy, (Plants that probably in Italy were never known to smile ; * I repeat that I'm a Cockney), there he lounged, serenely lazy, Picking, throwing, nibbling, dreaming, doz- ing, loving all the while. Well; one leant upon his elbow, and his hand went idly roving Through the tresses of the other — not in rap- ture or amaze At their beauty ; for the lovers who were sitting there and loving. Were as one — and none but coxcombs will their own adorning praise. 114 Boccaccio. No ! he twirled the tresses hither, and he tossed the tresses thither, As he would his own moustaches, and the maiden never moved ; Ne'er a freedom could she dream of for the hand that trifled with her Was her own, for they were one — and so they trifled, sat and loved. And his other hand strayed idly o'er the herb- age of the garden (By the way, 'twas once a wizard's, of the noxious herbal school; I'm a greenhorn at narration, so I trust that you will pardon Any trifling deviation from severe construc- tive rules). Scarce within his reach of arm, he spied a plant of curious prickle; It was tempting from its distance (still one hand about her head). Could he reach it? lo, a triumph! it is plucked, its fibers tickle : He must chew it — he has done so — in a mo- ment he is Dead! 'Twas a poison! (I admit it's unartistic, all worked up to; It's abrupt, it's coarse, it's cruel, harsh — en- titles me to groans: 115 Florence. But IVe told you, ne'er a neighbor would look in to chat and sup, too; So, if any one's to blame, I think you'll own it's Mr. Jones.) He was dead, and she was living! Earth and sea, and sky and ocean All were changed — the light of life was gone, rekindled ne'er to be; In the dark she stood alone; the sun had sunk with plummet motion; Not a star shone o'er the blackness of the Adriatic Sea! It was black and cold and sudden — she was hopeless, calm and frigid; Ne'er a moan escaped her bosom, on her brow was ne'er a frown; She was broken, she was frozen, she was pulse- less, she was frigid ; Can the Lily wave its petals when the north has blown it down? There she stood beside the body — not a kiss and not a murmur; They were one, and he was dead — beyond all hopes and pains — He was dead ! — the better part of her — the vital one, the firmer. And the mortifying virus worked through heart and soul, and veins. 116 Boccaccio. She was dying, and she waited. There, the neighbors came and found her, And they charged her with his murder; how, with magic art and wile. She had poisoned her true lover ; as the world- lings clamored round her. She but met them with the spectre of a dead, but loving smile. * Dearest friends, ' she said, * I love you, for you loved him and are wrathsome At his death, and thirst for mine, in return for such a life; And I love ye that ye'd slay me with a death that^s foul and loathsome, As you think 'tis I have slain him; I! who should have been his wife! Best of friends — do not hate me bitterly, and tear me into pieces; For you deem 'tis I have done it — nor give prayers up for my soul. How you loved him! he was worth it. What! your honest fury ceases? Such true hearts must not be tortured, I'll confess to you the whole.' And she led them to the garden, whence they ruthlessly had torn her; And the people, still unsatisfied, were mur- muring with ire; 117 Florence. But the spirit flame within yet burnt, that up- ward still had borne her, And the vulgar, 'neath it, cowered, as the heathen worship fire. And she took them to the spot where late with him she sat a-loving; And she told them of that happy time (years back it seemed to be!) How they sat, and loved, and idled, never think- ing, never moving. In the garden, in the sunset, by the Adriatic Sea! And she showed them how her lover had sat toying with her tresses. And with one hand plucked a poisoned leaf (the other at her head). * Kerens the plant!' she said, and picked it; 'thus, its poison he expresses. Just as I do'; and she chewed it. In a mo- ment she was dead! * * m * m * There's my story — do you like it? From Boccac- cio I've departed In the features; but I've given you, at all events, the bones. It's a first attempt; if bullied, or but met with praise faint-hearted, Why, in future, I shall go to bed, or knock up Mr. Jones." — Robert B, Brough. 118 Boccaccio. BOCCACCIO. ' One day upon a topmost shelf I found a precious prize indeed, Which father used to read himself, But did not want us boys to read ; A brown old book of certain age (As type and binding seemed to show), While on the spotted title page Appeared the name, * Boccaccio.' I'd never heard the name before. But in due season it became To him who fondly brooded o'er Those pages, a beloved name! Adown the centuries I walked Mid pastoral scenes and royal show ; With seigneurs and their dames I talked — The crony of Boccaccio. Those courtly knights and sprightly maids, Who really seemed disposed to shine In gallantries and escapades, Anon became great friends of mine. Yet was there sentiment with fun. And oftentimes my tears would flow At some quaint tale of valor done. As told by my Boccaccio. In boyish dreams I saw again Bucolic belles and dames of court ; The princely youths and monkish men Arrayed for sacrifice or sport; 119 Florence. Again I heard the nightingale ' Sing as she sung those years ago In his embowered Italian vale To my revered Boccaccio. And still I love that brown old book I found upon the topmost shelf — I love it so I let none look Upon the treasure but myself! And yet I have a stripling boy Who (I have every cause to know) "Would to its full extent enjoy The friendship of Boccaccio ! But boys are, oh ! so different now From what they were when I was one ! I fear my boy would not know how To take that old raconteur's fun! In your companionship, friend, I think it wise alone to go Plucking the gracious fruits that bend Where'er you lead, Boccaccio. So rest you there upon the shelf, Clad in your garb of faded brown ; Perhaps, some time, my boy himself Shall find you out and take you down. Then may he feel the joy once more That thrilled me, filled me, years ago When reverently I brooded o'er The glories of Boccaccio." — Eugene Field, 320 Boccaccio. THE GARDEN OF BOCCACCIO. * ' Of late, in one of those most weary hours, When life seems emptied of all genial powers, A dreary mood, which he who ne 'er has known May bless his happy lot, I sate alone ; And, from the numbing spell to win relief, CalPd on the Past for thought of glee or grief. In vain, bereft alike of grief or glee, I sate and cow^r'd o'er my own vacancy. And as I watched, the dull continuous ache. Which, all else slumbering, seem'd alone to wake; Friend! long wont to notice yet conceal, And soothe by silence what words cannot heal, 1 but half saw that quiet hand of thine Place on my desk this exquisite design. Boccaccio's Garden and its faery. The love, the joyaunce, and the gallantry! An Idyll, with Boccaccio's spirit warm. Framed in the silent poesy of form. Like flocks adown a newly-bathed steep Emerging from a mist; or like a stream Of music soft that not dispels the sleep. But casts in happier moulds the slumberer's dream. Gazed by an idle eye with silent might The picture stole upon my inward sight. A tremulous warmth crept gradual o'er my chest. As though an infant's finger touch 'd my breast, 121 Florence. And one by one (I know not whence) were brought All spirits of power that most had stirred my thought In selfless boyhood, on a new world tost Of wonder, and in its own fancies lost; Or charmed my youth, that kindled from above, Loved ere it loved, and sought a form of love; Or lent a luster to the earnest scan Of manhood, musing what and whence is man ! Wild strains of scalds, that in the sea-worn caves Eehearsed their war-spell to the winds and waves ; Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids, That caird on Hertha in deep forest glades; Or minstrel lay, that cheer 'd the baron ^s feast; Or rhyme of city pomp, of monk and priest. Judge, mayor, and many a guild in long array, To high-church pacing on the great saint's day. And many a verse which to myself I sang, That woke the tear yet stole away the pang, Of hopes which in lamenting I renewed. And last, a matron now, of sober mien. Yet radiant still and with no earthly sheen, Whom as a faery child my childhood woo 'd Even in my dawn of thought — Philosophy; Though then unconscious of herself, pardie, She bore no other name than Poesy ; And, like a gift from heaven, in lifeful glee, 122 Boccaccio. That had but newly left a mother's knee, Prattled and played with bird and flower, and stone, And life reveaPd to innocence alone. Thanks, gentle artist! now I can decry Thy fair creation with a mastering eye. And all awake ! And now in fix'd gaze stand. Now wander through the Eden of thy hand ; Praise the green arches, on the fountain clear; See fragment shadows of the crossing deer ; And with that serviceable nymph I stoop The crystal from its restless pool to scoop. I see no longer! I myself am there. Sit on the ground-sward, and the banquet share. 'Tis I, that sweep that lute's love-echoing strings, And gaze upon the maid who gazing sings ; Or pause and listen to the tinkling bells From the high tower, and think that there she dwells. With old Boccaccio's soul I stand possesst. And breathe an air like life, that swells my chest. Mid gods of Greece and warriors of romance. See! Boccaccio sits, unfolding on his knees The new-found roll of old Maeonides ; But from his mantle 's fold, and near the heart. Peers Ovid's book of Love's sweet smart! 123 Florence. all-enjoying and all-blending sage, Long be it mine to con thy mazy page, Where, half conceaPd, the eye of fancy views Fauns, nymphs, and winged saints, all gracious to thy muse ! Still in thy garden let me watch their pranks. And see in Dian's vest between the ranks Of the trim vines, some maid that half believes The vestal fires, of which her lover grieves. With that sly satyr peeping through the leaves ! ' ' — Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The opening scene of the Decameron was placed before the Church of Santa Maria No- vell© : **Let us in thought pursue (what can we bet- ter?) Those who assembled there at matin-time ; Who, when vice revelled and along the street Tables were set, what time the bearer's bell Eang to demand the dead at every door, Came out into the meadows ; and, awhile Wandering in idleness, but not in folly. Sate down in the high grass and in the shade Of many a tree, sun-proof, day after day. When all was still and nothing to be heard. But the cicala's voice among the olives, Relating in a ring to banish care, Their hundred tales. 124 The Decameron J. Wagrez Boccaccio. Round the green hill they went, Round underneath, first to a splendid house, Gherardi, as an old tradition runs. That on the left, just rising from the vale ; A place for luxury, — the painted rooms, The open galleries and middle court Not unprepared, fragrant and gay with flowers. Then westward to another, nobler still yet ; That on the right, now known as the Palmiere, Where art with nature vied, — a paradise With verdurous walls, and many a trellised walk All rose and jasmine, many a twilight glade Crossed by the deer. Then to the Ladies ' Vale ; And the clear lake, that as by magic seemed To lift up to the surface every stone Of luster there, and the diminutive fish Innumerable, dropt with crimson and gold. Now motionless, now glancing to the sun. Who has not dwelt on their voluptuous day? The morning banquet by the fountain-side. While the small birds rejoiced in every bough ; The dance that followed, and the noontide slum- ber; Then the tales told in turn, as round they lay On carpets, the fresh water murmuring. And the short interval of pleasant talk Till supper-time, when many a siren-voice Sung down the stars ; and, as they left the sky, The torches, planted in the sparkling grass. And everywhere among the glowing flowers. Burnt brighter and brighter. He, whose dream it was, 125 Florence. (It was no more), sleeps in a neighboring vale; Sleeps in the chnrch, where, in his ear, I ween, The friar poured out his wondrous catalogue ; A ray, imprimis, of the star that shone To the wise men ; a vialful of sounds. The musical chimes of the great bells that hung In Solomon's Temple; and, though last, not least, A feather from the Angel Gabriers wing, Dropt in the Virgin's chamber. That dark ridge. Stretching southeast, conceals it from our sight ; Not so his lowly roof and scanty farm. His copse and rill, if yet a trace be left. Who lived in Val di Pesa, suffering long Want and neglect and (far, far worse) re- proach. With calm, unclouded mind. The glimmering tower On the gray rock beneath, his landmark once. Now serves for ours, and points out where he ate His bread with cheerfulness. Who sees him not ( 'Tis his own sketch — he drew it from himself) Laden with cages from his shoulder slung. And sallying forth, while yet the morn is gray. To catch a thrush on every lime-twig there ; Or in the wood among his wood-cutters ; Or in the tavern by the highway-side At tric-tra with the miller ; or at night, Doffing his rustic suit, and duly clad, 126 Boccaccio. Entering his closet, and among Ms books, Among the great of every age and clime, A numerous court, turning to whom he pleased. Questioning each why he did this or that. And learning how to overcome the fear Of poverty and death T' — Samuel Rogers, It was while in retirement here at Certaldo, that Boccaccio did penance for the follies of his youth, and would have burned the Decameron and entered into Holy Orders, but for the dis- suasion of Petrarch; and yet so great were the excesses indulged in by the grosser element of the new learning's advocates, that in the follow- ing century, Boccaccio's books were burned in the *^ bonfire of vanities" instituted by Savon- arola, and George Eliot puts into the mouth of Romola, who was so extremely classic that she was semi-pagan, these words relative to them: ' ' There are some things in them I do not want ever to forget," said Romola, ^^but you must confess, Piero, that a great many of those stories are only about low deceit for the lowest ends. Men do not want books to make them think lightly of vice, as if life was a vulgar joke, and I cannot blame Era Girolamo for teaching that we owe our time to something better. ' ' 127 CHAPTER yil. THE MEDICI. Very different from the atmosphere created by Boccaccio in the Decameron, was the reality in the city of Florence during that dreadful scourge of 1348. Longfellow says in regard to a wax-work view of it in the Bargello Museum : ^^It is like the sepulchre with its loathing corses — with the blackening, the swelling, the bursting of the trunk, the worm, the rat, the tarantula at work.*' In such a field as this did 124,000 Franciscans throughout Europe yield up their lives in ad- ministering to the afflicted. In Florence, the Misericordia, the Brothers of Mercy, enlarged their buildings and the other famous charitable organization which had been formed for the care and entertainment of pilgrims, the Bigallo, was not behind in its work of zeal, and the Loggia of the Bigallo, now standing, was de- signed by Orcagna in 1352 for the Misericordia who then owned it, as a place for the exhibition of lost or abandoned infants. At the time of Dante 's banishment from Flor- ence in 1302 we found the city in the power of 129 Florence. the Neri. They had punished unmercifully all the Bianci by banishment and by confiscation of all their possessions within the city, but were compelled by force of arms to maintain their supremacy. In an encounter at Pisa in 1315, they received a forcible check, and a few years later met defeat. Weakened by long dissensions, and fearing an attack upon the city, they appealed to the king of Naples for aid. He sent as his ap- pointee, Walter de Brienne, the Duke of Athens, who was hailed by acclamation as a peace re- storer, but alas ! only too soon he disclosed his perfidy and was forced to flee for his life. That trial of an aristocratic rule was more than suf- ficient for the Florentines. The chief families in the democracy then guided the Republic for the following quarter of a century, and in 1378 we hear of a member of the Guild of Physicians, one Salvestro de' Medici — that is, Salvestro of the Physicians — ^'medici'^ being the literal translation of Phy- sicians — being appointed gonfaloniere, an office supreme in the city and created later than that of the priori. Salvestro 's family had from the early thir- teenth century taken part in the affairs of their native city, but Salvestro was the first member who attained the highest office. His son, Gio- vanni, born in 1360, was the first to amass the 130 The Medici. great fortune for which the family through suc- ceeding centuries was noted. His unprecedented generosity placed him in high esteem, to which his two sons, Cosimo and Lorenzo, succeeded. This Cosimo de 'Medici, the grandson of the gonf aloniere, and the son of the wealth amasser, was given the title by decree of the city, of ' ' Pater Patriae, "the * * Father of His Country, ' ' and a monument was ordered to be erected in his honor, in the church, which later became in reality, the Medician Church, St. Lorenzo. He was also called II Vecchio, the patriarch, the Venerable One, and his brother Lorenzo, born in 1393, was the progenitor of the Medici who a couple of centuries later obtained absolute con- trol, not only over Florence, but over all Tus- cany. The story of Cosimo, The Father of His Country, belongs in reality to the fifteenth cen- tury, when under the patronage of himself and his grandson Lorenzo, the Magnificent, Florence was destined to burst into the full bloom of the Renaissance of all art, learning, wealth, honor and renown. We note, then, that during the fourteenth century, the light of Florence's *^ mornings" was dimmed by the constant civil wars and by the dissensions which occurred at home and abroad, and also by the dreaded scourge, the Plague, which carried o:ff so many of her citi- 131 Florence. The morning of art, wMch appeared so rose- ate under Andrea Pisano, Cimabue and Giotto, remained obscured, during the whole century; the architecture under Arnolfo and Giotto was not extended in any noticeable case, except per- haps when Orcagna built the Loggia of the Bi- gallo, and altered Or San Micheli into a church, and when Taddeo Gaddi, in 1362, rebuilt the Ponte Vecchio, which connects the Palazzo Yec- chio with the palaces of later date, the Pitti and the Uffizi. The bridge — a Eoman one — ^had been demol- ished repeatedly by the floods of the Arno. Longfellow tells about it in this poem : ^ * Taddio Gaddi built me — I am old, Five centuries old. I plant my foot of stone Upon the Arno as Saint Michael's own Was planted on the dragon. Fold by fold Beneath me as it struggles, I behold Its glistening scales. Twice has it overthrown My kindred and companions. Me alone It moveth not, but is by me controlled. I can remember when the Medici Were driven from Florence ; longer still ago The final wars of Ghibelline and Guelf ; Florence adorns me with her jewelry; And when I think that Michael Angelo Hath leaned on me, I glory in mysQlf . ' * 132 The Medici. Under the arches on either side of the bridge the goldsmiths have for centuries plied their trade and stationed their shops — ** Florence adorns me with her jewelry/' In literature we find Florence's two great sons pouring out their souls in melody but ban- ished from her walls, and the only writer now known beyond the city's gates, using the setting for his ^* Decameron" in his plague-ridden city. It is true that at the close of the century were born those who later shed a luster on her fame, but their work did not begin until the succeed- ing century — Ghiberti, Brunelleschi, Donatello and Angelico. *'In my waking dreams I see the marvelous dome of Brunelleschi, Ghiberti 's gates of bronze, and Giotto 's tower ; And Ghirlandajo's lovely Benci glides With folded hands amid my trembled thoughts, A splendid vision." — Longfellow. To follow the history of the Medici would lead us into international affairs of Europe, during the centuries of the family's power. We should follow two members of their family as popes to Eome, two daughters of their house to the throne of France, where one of them, besides being the wife of one king, ^*was mother of three," and where she fostered her hereditary love of art in her new sphere, where we may still view the palace she built and the gorgeous 133 Florence. frescoes which were made in honor of her birth of her daughter — ^but alas, might also come into mind St. Bartholomew's day! — we might wan- der in spirit to that ever-interesting but much maligned being, Mary Stuart, who was edu- cated at her court and who became the wife of her son ; but our interest at present is centered in Florence and we care not so much for the policies and intrigues of its rulers, as for the mementoes of their power and influence which were extended in the encouragement of the art, literature, architecture, and sculpture which we find in this magnificent city. During the first three-quarters of the fifteenth century, nearly, Cosimo de' Medici the Pater Patriae, was in reality ruler of Florence, though he preserved the republican form of government. The literature of the time was mainly con- cerned in studying the treasured manuscripts of ages past; Greek scholars were encouraged to flock to this center of the revival of letters to lecture and to expound, and secretaries were busied incessantly in copying and circulating the thoughts of the great ones of the earth who had been sleeping, but who were now waked to life. The Pater Patriae donated to the city price- less manuscripts and formed the nucleus of the library which is even now scarcely rivaled by any in Europe. ' 134 The Medici. The builders of Ms age are BrunellescM and Miehelozzo, his pupil and successor. Brunel- lescM added to the beauty of Santa Maria del Fiore by erecting the dome, the idea for which he conceived from the dome of the Pantheon. Michael Angelo later copied it for the dome of St. Peter's at Rome. Brunelleschi now lies buried under his dome of Santa Maria del Fiore, and there is a monu- ment to him in the Piazza del Duomo. He was the pioneer of Renaissance architects. San Lorenzo Church had been remodeled by him for Giovanni dei Medici, the father of the Pater Patriae, in classic style, and the church of the Holy Ghost — Santo Spirito — is his masterpiece. The Pazzi Chapel in the cloisters of Santa Croce, and the chapel of St. Zanobius in the Duomo, also were built by him, and he designed the Loggia of the Foundlings Hospital in the Piazza SS. Annunziata. His secular buildings are the Pazzi Palace, now called the Quaratesi Palace ; the Barbadori Palace near the Ponte Vecchio, and the Pitti Palace. The merchant Pitti was a bitter foe of the Medici and, spurred on by his followers, he endeavored to erect a palace wMch would out- shine any of the Medician structures. Brunel- leschi was given the order for its erection, but alas, the Medician supremacy proving invin- cible, the Pitti backers backed out, and the 135 Florence. palace was sold by the Pitti heirs to the Medici, and Cosimo, with his wife, Eleanor of Toledo, for whom he laid out around it the Boboli Gar- dens, so named from the former owner of the land, made it the Grand Ducal Court. On the occasion of the marriage of Cosimo 's daughter, occurred the first presentation in Italy of a per- formance combining drama with music, and later in the same palace, on the occasion of the marriage of Maria dei Medici to Henry IV of France, was born modern Opera — the first of the Italian operas, Euridice, having been pre- sented there. The Pitti Palace is now a Royal residence, and the art collection of Pitti gallery, combined with the Uffizi, is one of the most famous in the world. The Pater Patriae ordered the other builder of his time, Michelozzo, who had built for him a Medici Chapel in Santa Croce, and a palace now called the Riccardi Palace — to re- construct a convent for the Silvestrine Monks, which he later transferred to the Dominicans. That convent is the famous San Marco, at whose head was the celebrated prior Antonino, who was afterwards archbishop of Florence and who was later' canonized ; and its seraphic in- mate was Fra Angelico ; and at the close of the century it was presided over by that other monk who has forever made San Marco famous — Girolamo Savonarola. 136 The Medici. And thoughtfully the cells we trod Which held within their narrow border The prior who preached the wrath of God — Stern Quixote of a Sacred Order. m * * * * * And that good Friar, to whom alone Of mortal men was spirit given To pierce the veil that shrouds the Throne And paint the golden Courts of Heaven. ' ^ — The Earl of Creive. m CHRONOLOaiCAL RESUME OF THE FOURTEENTH CENTURY. Dante, the Chief of the Priori 1300 Dante banished 1302 Petrarch 1304-1374 Orcagna 1308-1368 Boccaccio 1313-1375 Office of Bargello created 1313 Guelfs defeated 1325 Pisano wrought his Baptistery door 1330 Campanile of Giotto 1330 Or San Michele built by Orcagna 1337 Certosa founded 1341 Plague in Florence 1348 Decameron 1348 Or San Michele made into a church 1348 Bigallo Loggia built by Orcagna 1352 Giovanni di Medici born 1360 Ponte Vecchio built by Taddeo Gaddi 1362 Boccaccio lectured on Dante 1368 Loggia dei Lanzi built from Orcagna 's de- signs 1376 Salvestro di Medici head of Florence 1378 Ghiberti 1378-1455 Brunelleschi 1379-1446 Donatello 1386-1466 Fra Angelico 1387-1455 San Antonino 1389-1459 Cosimo de Medici, ''Pater Patriae '\ .1389-1464 139 # CHAPTER VIII. THE ARTIST MONKS, ANGELICO AND LIPPO LIPPI. Truly was the coming of the Franciscans and the Dominicans to Florence in those early days of momentous importance to art, and truly was religious fervor the quickening breath of life which awoke the slumbering visions of beauty. Francis and Dominic were apostles of the Renaissance — the renaissance of spirituality — and Cimabue and Giotto expressed their visions under the auspices of the former, while now we find a simple, sweet, pure Dominican monk so filled with the beauty of the life beyond, that he must needs catch some of its radiance, and imprison it upon the walls of his convent cells, showing also thereby the virtues and ideals of his chosen Order; but he cares naught for classic lines, he strives only to express what his soul contemplates in ecstasy. It was truly an inspired task, and as such did he regard it; for, beginning his work with prayer and performing it, it is said, on his knees, he never erased a line, for he considered the line not his, but one of Divine guidance. 141 Florence. ^^Not for earth's joys, triumphant, hymeneal, Those harp-strings twang, those golden trum- pets blare; On golden grounds, in place of the blue air, In Byzant lines unrounded and unreal, The simple monk worked out his own ideal — And were there ever forms more heavenly fair? Nay, from the life the ineffable angels there Seemed limned and colored by their servant leal. What was his charm? Whence the inflowing grace? The beauty of his holiness. His child-soul dreamed. When psalm and censer filled the holy place, Till to take shape the mist and music seemed; Till Mary Mother 's smile grew out of song, To symphony of the seraphic throng. '^ — From the Catholic World, ' ' And Angelico, The artist saint, kept smiling in his cell The smile with which he welcomed the sweet slow Inbreak of angels (whitening through the dim That he might paint them) while the sudden sense Of EaphaePs future was revealed to him By force of his own fair works * competence. ' ' — Mrs, Browning, 142 Coronation of the Virgin Ufflzi Fra Angelica 1 Fra Angelico. Fra Giovanni was born in Vecchio, in one of the Tuscan provinces, and at the age of twenty, he entered the Dominican convent at Fiesole, where some of his frescoes may still be seen, but he was later transferred to San Marco at Flor- ence. The epithet ^^ Angelic'' was appropri- ately applied to him, and his full title became ^^11 beato Fra Giovanni, angelico, da Fiesole" — ^ ^ the blessed Brother John, the angelic, of Fiesole, ' ' but he lives to fame as Angelico, — all else matters not, it is only the angelic one we remember. After his beautiful frescoes on the walls of San Marco were completed, he was summoned to Rome by the pope who would fain have made him Archbishop of Florence. His frescoes can be seen in the chapel of Nicholas VI, in the Vati- can. Some few may be seen at Ovieto and at Cortona, and the Louvre with ^ * The Coronation of the Virgin," and the National Gallery of London possess good examples of his work, as well as Florence's Accademia, and the Pitti and the Uffizi Galleries ; but San Marco is indis- putably the treasure-house of his art. FOR THE MADONNA OF THE STAR, BY FRA ANGELICO. **As when the night is deepest, and the far Forgotten day is very vague and vain. And no man knows if dawn may come again, Until the day-star rise, oracular: 143 Florence. So in the night, God sent thee to unbar The doors of day and bring the glorious reign Of thy dear Son, mother without stain. Thou star-crowned Queen of Heaven, thou Morning Star. Mary Mother, help my halting faith: The night is round me and I cannot see ; The stars are hidden by the world's dead breath ; Be thou my Star, and let me follow thee Through this dim valley of the shadow of death. Into the sunlight of God's majesty.'' — Ralph Adams Cram. Angelico died in Rome and is buried in the Church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. This is his epitaph, translated: **Let me not be praised that I was another Apelles, But that I gave all to the children of Christ. Some works are for the Earth, others for Heaven — The flower of Etruria's cities bore me, Gio- vanni. ' ' FRA ANGELICO. **Art is true art when art to God is true. And only then ; to copy Nature 's work Without the chains that run the whole world through Gives us the eye without the lights that lurk 144 Madonna of the Star Angelico Fra Lippo Lippi. In its clear depths ; no soul, no truth is there. Oh, praise your Rubens and his fleshy brush! Oh, love your Titian and his carnal air ! Give me the trilling of a pure-toned thrush. And take your crimson parrots. Artist-saint! Fra Angelico, your brush was dyed In hues of opal, not in vulgar paint ; You showed to us pure joys for which you sighed. Your heart was in your work, you never feigned ; You left us here the Paradise you gained ! ' ' — Maurice Francis Egan. Quite different from Angelico ^s spiritual con- ceptions are the pictures of his contemporary, Fra Filippo Lippi — or Lippo Lippi, for short — who painted his religious subjects in a human atmosphere, not idealizing them, ^ell might his Superior in the convent of the Carmine say : *^ Faces, arms, legs and bodies like the truth As much as pea and pea — it's a devil's game — Your business is not to catch men with show. With homage to the perishable clay, But lift them over, ignore it all. Make them forget there's such a thing as flesh. Your business is to paint the souls of men ! Give us no more body than shows soul ! Here's Giotto, with his Saint a-praising God, 145 Florence. That sets us praising, — why not stop with him? Why put all thoughts of praise out of our head With wonder at lines, colors and what not ! Paint the soul, never mind the legs and arms ! Rub it all out, try at it a second time. Oh that white smallish female with the breasts, She 's just my niece — Herodius, I would say. Who went and danced and got men's heads cut off- Have it all out!'' — Robert Browning. Lippo Lippi's Madonna with Child and An- gels, in the Uffizi is described by Richard Wat- son Gilder in his poem: A MADONNA OF FRA LIPPO LIPPI. **No heavenly maid we here behold. Though round her brow a ring of gold; This baby, solemn-eyed and sweet. Is human all from head to feet. Together close her palms are prest In worship of that godly guest ; But glad her heart and unafraid. While on her neck His hand is laid. Two children, happy, laughing, gay. Uphold the little child in play ; Not flying angels these, what though Four wings from their four shoulders grow. 146 Modonna with Child and Angels Fra Filippo Lippi "•'%. Fra Lippo Lippi. Fra Lippo, we have learned from thee A lesson of humanity; To every mother's heart forlorn, In every house the Christ is born/' Fra Lippo 's adopted son — for the sensational stories of the Frate's life, as told by Vasari, have recently been refuted, according to Lady Eastlake's Eevision of Kugler's Handbook of Painting — was Filippino Lippi. He was a pupil of Fra Lippo, and perhaps a family relative, but if not so, the assuming by a pupil of a master's name was a common cus- tom of the time. He was engaged by the wealthy Strozzi fam- ily to decorate their family chapel in Santa Maria Novello Church, and the Badia and St. Martino 's Church are visited chiefly to view his masterpieces, particularly the Madonna ap- pearing to St. Bernard. The Adoration of the Magi and the Vision of St. Francis in the Uffizi are considered his best easel pictures. He has some celebrated frescoes in the Brancacci Chapel of the same Carmelite Church — the Carmine — of whose monastery Lippo Lippi was an inmate, and on whose walls are numerous frescoes by Masac- cio, the copying of which was Lippo 's early ed- ucation in art, and within whose same walls did he breathe his last. 147 Florence. Masaccio also is buried in the Brancacci Chapel, a marble slab in the floor commemora- ting the fact. His paintings adorning the walls are his best monument. **If any seek the marble or my name, This church shall be the marble — and the name, Yon oratory holds it. Nature envied My pencil 's power, as Art required and loved it, Thence was it that I died.'' **In this chapel wrought One of the few, Nature's interpreters. The few whom Genius gives as lights to shine, — Masaccio; and he slumbers underneath. Wouldst thou behold his monument? Look round ! And know that where we stand stood oft and long. Oft till the day was gone, Eaphael himself ; Nor he alone, so great the ardour there, Such,while it reigned, the generous rivalry; He and far many more at once called forth. Anxious to learn of those who came before, To steal a spark from their authentic fire, Theirs who first broke the universal gloom, — Sons of the morning." — Rogers. 148 Madonna Appearing to St. Bernard Filippino Lippi Masaccio. MASACCIO. In the Brancacci Chapel. **He came to Florence long ago, And painted here these walls, that shone For Eaphael and for Angelo, With secrets deeper than his own, Then shrank into the dark again. And died, we know not how nor when. The shadows deepened, and I turned Half sadly from the fresco grand; ^And is this,' mused I, *all ye earned. High-vaulted brain and cunning hand, That ye to greater men could teach The skill yourself could never reach!' *And who were they,' I mused, *that wrought Through pathless wilds, with labor long, The highways of our daily thought? Who reared those towers of earliest song That lift us from the throng to peace Eemote in sunny silences?' Out clanged the Ave Mary bells. And to my heart this message came : Each clamorous throat among them tells What strong-souled martyrs died in flame To make it possible that thou Shouldst here with brother-singers bow. 149 Florence. Thoughts that great hearts once broke for, we Breathe cheaply in the common air; The dust we trample heedlessly Throbbed once in saints and heroes rare, Who perished, opening for their race New pathways to the commonplace. Henceforth, when rings the health to those Who live in story and in song, nameless dead, that now repose Safe in Oblivion's chambers strong. One cup of recognition true Shall silently be drained to you!'' — James Russell Loivell. 150 CHAPTEE IX. THE SCULPTORS AND GHIRLANDAJO. Besides Ghiberti, who wrought the bronze doors of the Baptistery, this time preceding Michael Angelo, produced the sculptors Dona- tello with his follower, Mino da Fiesole; Luca della Eobbia and Verrocchio. Of Ghiberti 's works other than the bronze doors on which he labored faithfully for fifty years, and the memorial to St. Zanobius in the Duomo, are the bronze statues of St. Stephen, St. Matthew and St. John of Or San Michele, and in Santa Croce and Maria Novello are mon- umental tombs ordered by different Florentine families. In Santa Croce is a wooden crucifix wrought by Donatello, the first he made, and of which his friend Brunelleschi said the figure was that of a peasant. That criticism is still retailed to us by every guide in Florence. Brunelleschi in answer to Donatello 's retort that he should make one himself, did so, and the one he made was quite superior to Dona- tello 's. It is now in the Church of Santa Maria Novello. 151 Florence. In the Baptistery is a wooden statue of the Magdalene, and in the Bargello is a marble statue of St. John, and when we realize that they were made by Donatello before his six- teenth year, we may marvel at the power they express. It was about this time, in the year 1401, that a contest was proclaimed for the commission of the bronze doors of the Baptistery. Ghiberti's model, with Brunelleschi 's rejected one, are now shown side by side in the Bargello Mu- seum. Brunelleschi, in chagrin, ceased to aspire for chief honors as a sculptor, but resolved to ex- cel as an architect. lie, accompanied by his young friend, Donatello — that is, ^^ little Don- ato, ' ' his name being Donato di Niccolo di Betto Bardi, ^^ Donato, the son of Nicholas, the son of Betto Bardi'' — left Florence for Eome. The two supported themselves by applying the goldsmith's trade — most artists and sculp- tors served apprenticeship to goldsmiths — Or- cagna, Luca della Robbia, Ghiberti, Verocchio, Andrea del Sarto, Ghirlandajo, Cellini and others — and we notice strongly the effects of the goldsmith's art in Angelica's angels. In Eome Brunelleschi and Donatello studied the antique masterpieces to their heart's content, Donatello the statues, and Brunelleschi the architecture. What inspiration and ability that study ac- 152 St. George Donatella The Sculptors. complislied may be noted in their later works, for it was after their return to Florence that Brunelleschi's buildings were erected, and Donatello's St. George in bronze in the Bar- gello Museum, whither it was removed from Or San Michele for safe keeping, and a copy substi- tuted in its place; the marble statues of the saints of Or San Michele, Peter and Mark^of which latter Michael Angelo said he never saw a more honest face — the statues of the prophets for Maria del Fiore; the Marzocco, or ancient lion of Florence, now in the Bargello, where also is his David ; the tomb of the so-called Pope John XXIII in the Baptistery, — all attest his great ability. The Bargello, now called the National Mu- seum, has a room for his work. ^^The echoes of a bygone strife Seemed surging round the dark Bargello ; Marble and bronze sprang fresh to life Beneath the wand of Donatello.'* — The Earl of Crewe, His Judith with the Head of Holofernes, now in the Loggia dei Lanzi, was placed before the Palazzo Vecchio in the year 1498, when the Medici were expelled from Florence, as a sym- bol, or as a warning to all tyrants, and as a salutary example to the people! '^Salutis Pub- 153 Florence. licae Exemplum. ' ' A very famous work of Do- natello, the Gattemelata equestrian statue in Padua, is reproduced in the Bargello Museum. Only less famous than his statues are his works in relief; his beautiful Annunciation in Santa Croce, and his Singing and Dancing Chil- dren which were designed for the organ loft of the Cathedral, but for years cast aside to make room for some celebration of royalty, and are now shown in the Cathedral Museum. Donatello stands forth as sculptor for sculp- ture's sake — and not as a decorator of architec- ture. He revived the classic idea of the art, and the artists of Florence have erected as a memo- rial his bust before the door of his workshop, which was not far from the Duomo. Only fourteen years younger than Donatello was Luca della Eobbia. He also executed in marble-relief a series of Singing and Dancing Boys and Angels for the organ-loft of the Duomo. They, with Donatello 's * ^ Cantoria, ' ' are to be seen in the Duomo Museum, and we notice that Donatello 's express strength, but Luca's express grace and vitality. Luca took as his text for this work the * ^ Can- toria,'' the 150th Psalm, which he illustrated in his frieze of ten panels : ^^ Praise ye the Lord in His holy places; praise ye Him in the firmament of His power. Praise ye Him for His mighty acts; praise 154 Singing Boys with Book Luca della Robbia The Sculptors. ye Him according to the multitude of His great- ness. Praise ye Him with sound of trumpet ; praise ye Him with psaltery and harp. Praise Him on high sounding cymbals ; praise Him on cymbals of joy; let every spirit praise the Lord. Alleluia.'' Of the work, Longfellow says, addressing the City of Florence: *^For Luca della Kobbia there Created forms so wondrous fair. They made thy sovereignty supreme. These choristers with lips of stone, Whose music is not heard, but seen, Still chant, as from their organ-screen, Their Maker 's praise. ' ' In marble, also, Luca executed the monu- mental tomb of Bishop Federighi, now to be seen in the Church of the Holy Trinity, after its removal the second time. It was first placed in the Church of San Pancrazio, but was re- moved later to a little church near Florence, where Longfellow saw it when he wrote: ^^Here in this old neglected church. That long eludes the traveler's search. Lies the dead bishop on his tomb ; Earth upon earth he slumbering lies, Life-like and death-like in the gloom; Garlands of fruit and flowers in bloom 155 Florence. And foliage deck his resting place ; A shadow in the sightless eyes, Made perfect by the furnace heat, All earthly passions and desires Burnt out by purgatorial fires ; Seeming to say, * Our years are fleet. And to the weary, death is sweet.' '' A very elaborate Tabernacle is in the Church of the Holy Apostles and in the Duomo Sacristy is a door carved most elaborately in bronze re- lief. It is in ten panels. Luca della Eobbia is unique in the high grade of work he did in terra-cotta, having laid aside marble and bronze to work in that material, which is named for him, della Eobbia-ware. He glazed it and brought it to an artistic finish scarcely credible, and it speedily became fam- ous and was much in demand, but the secret of its composition was kept in the Robbia family for generations. Throughout Florence we see much of the work in this ware, his beautiful Coronation of the Virgin in the Church of the Ognissanti, and his Madonna and Child in the Spedalle degli Innocenti, and the coats of arms of the differ- ent Guilds, ornamenting the exterior of Or San Michele, and the Tabernacle over the little foun- tain in the Via Nazionale being particularly noteworthy. The lovely ''Bambini,'' of the Foundling's 156 Tomb of Bishop Federighi Luca della Robbia The Sculptors. Institute in the Piazza Annunziata, have been attributed to Luca, but are now said to have been done by his nephew, Andrea. In fact, the Eobbias worked so much together that it is not easy to assign to each his respective work. **But the most fragile forms of clay, Hardly less beautiful than they, These saints and angels that adorn The walls of hospital, and tell The story of good deeds so well That poverty seems less forlorn. And life more like a holiday." — Longfellow. The Meeting of St. Francis and St. Dominic, by Andrea, is famous, and he has left us in the Medici chapel of Santa Croce a beautiful altar piece, one of his loveliest works, done in delicate blue and white. It represents the Virgin en- throned, surrounded by saints who are of most interest to the Florentines, and to the Medici: St. John the Baptist, St. Lawrence, and the Franciscan saints, Francis, Bernardino, and Louis of Toulouse, with St. Elizabeth of Hun- gary, and her symbol — a lap full of roses, the roses into which the Divine Charity had changed her loaves of bread. A worthy follower of the saintly founder of her order, for could Francis himself have loved Poverty more than did she love those who were enrolled in its ranks ! 157 Florence, As we gaze these lines of Christina Eossetti's occur to US : ST. ELIZABETH OF HUNGARY. ^^When if ever life is sweet, Save in heart in all a child, A fair virgin undefiled. Knelt she at her Savior ^s feet; While she laid her royal crown, Thinking it too mean a thing For a solemn offering. Careless on the cushions down. Fair she was as any rose. But more pale than lilies white ; Her eyes full of deep repose Seemed to see beyond our sight. Hush, she is a holy thing ; Hush, her soul is in her eyes, Seeking far in Paradise For her Light, her Love, her King. ^ ' In the sacristy of Santa Maria Novello we see a fountain or Lavatory, wrought by Giovanni della Robbia, the son of Andrea. Mino di Giovanni, called Mino da Fiesole, from the fact of his having property in that place, was not a Florentine, but was a follower of Donatello, and has left in Florence many pieces of sculpture noted for their rara deli- cacy of finish and for their spirituality. In the Badia we have seen his beautiful altar-piece and 158 Baptism of Christ Verrocchio The Sculptors. his tombs and monuments, one of which is the monumental tomb of Count Hugo, the son of the foundress of the Badia — the Countess Willa — and in the Bargello are some of his por- trait busts. Mino, after leaving Florence, went to Eome, where are some of his monumental tombs ; that of Pope Paul II is in the crypt of St. Peter's Church, and the tomb of Francesco Tornabuoni is in the Church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. Verrocchio was at first an artist, with Leonardo da Vinci as a pupil, and so able a pupil was he that he took part in finishing his master's pic- tures, one of which. The Baptism of Christ in the Accademia, shows as his handiwork one of the angels at the left with the profile, and so superior to Verrocchio 's work was it accounted that his master never put hand to brush again. Verrocchio 's figures in that same picture are sculptural in pose and effect, and as a sculptor has Verrocchio left us his best work, the eques- trian statue of Colleoni at Venice, where he died ere it was completed. In Florence we have in the Bargello his statue of David represented as a Florentine boy, but exhibiting the suggestion of that unfathomable smile which Leonardo so often portrayed, especially in his Mona Lisa. We have also his Doubting Thomas, and many busts of the Medici family and a monument for them in San Lorenzo wrought by him, as was also the beautiful fountain in the courtyard of the Palazzo Vecchio. 159 Florence. The artist of this time was Ghirlandajo, lit- erally * * the garland maker, ' ' his father, Domin- ico Corradi, being a goldsmith, and the garlands he wove for women's ornaments being so very popular he was given the name, Ghirlandajo, which name descended to his son. Ghirlandajo was first and foremost a portrait painter, and his frescoes of San Maria Novello were ordered by wealthy Florentine families, and contain no less than twenty-one portraits of their respective relations. In the apse be- hind the high altar we find his tableaux repre- senting the Life of St. John the Baptist, on one wall, and on the opposite walls scenes from the Life of the Blessed Virgin. The work was com- missioned to be done by Giovanni Tornabuoni, whose sister Lucrezia was the wife of Piero de Medici, and the ' ' Queen of Florence. ' ' Her por- trait is introduced as St. Elizabeth in the Birth of St. John, as afterwards her son, Lorenzo the Magnificent, was often portrayed as St. John, the patron of Florence. Giovanni Tornabuoni himself is standing next to the angel appearing in Zacharias, in another scene, and the spectators are several other members of the Tornabuoni family. In the group of the Salutation is Ginevra de Benci, who was a celebrated beauty of her time, and Ghirlandajo introduces her again, in the frescoes dealing with the Life of the Blessed Virgin. 160 David Verroechio Ghirlandajo. In the same Salutation are small figures in the background, which are said to have been done by Michael Angelo, when a boy and while a pupil of Ghirlandajo, but there is a good reason to doubt the assertion, for at the time that the commission was given to Ghirlandajo, Angelo was twenty-one years of age. However, he may have done the work at that age. We notice the same preponderance of detail in the Adoration of the Magi in the Uffizi and in the Nativity in the Accademia, while in the Palazzo Vecchio the fresco of St. Zanobius En- throned has for a background the Duomo, the Campanile, the Baptistery, while above are fig- ures from Roman history and a lunette with the Madonna. Ghirlandajo certainly gave good measure in fulfilling his orders ! To Ghirlandajo, Marco Vespucci gave the or- der for the decoration of the Vespucci family chapel in the Church of Ognissanti, the All Saints' Church — which decoration contains the portraits of the Vespucci men, among whom we see Amerigo, the protonym of our country, and the Vespucci women, among whom we see Simo- netta, the wife of Marco, and the ideal and in- spirer of all of Botticelli's works. We may gaze upon her portrait long and well, for ere we leave Florence we shall recognize her features and her lithe, winsome form, which have become renowned through Botticelli's brush. Of Amerigo Vespucci, a cousin of Marco, who 161 Florence. ordered the frescoes, we may remark inciden- tally, that though his knowledge of astronomy and geography and his interest in the great dis- coveries arousing the known world did not find a field in the city devoted to art and literature, and though his many voyages of exploration and discovery resulted in the enrichment of nations not his own, and to which he was in his later years inclined, he is honored by the city of his birth in having part of its grandest thoroughfare — the Lung' Arno, named for him, the Lung' Arno Amerigo Vespucci, and his home, which he had converted into a hospital, is still standing. But back to Ghirlandajo. He was called to Rome by Sixtus to take part in the decoration of his chapel, where his work, The Calling of Peter and Andrew, was considered to rank equal if not superior to that of his fellow ar- tists ; it contains, however, the same elaborated background as do his other works; hills and valleys and castles and things ad infinitum ; but what 's the odds if he cannot ^ ^ paint me the pic- ture and leave that out,'' he has given us what no man may ever equal, he has given us Michael Angelo! and the giving was an act of most noble, exalted unselfishness on his part. What an acquisition the gifted boy of four- teen was to his hottega only he could know, and what an inspiration to the other pupils. So great was that boy's talent that the teacher, re- 162 Ghirlandajo. versing the usual order of procedure in such cases, had to pay the father for allowing him to study with him, and it was certainly with a wrench that the master, after keeping him a year, gave him up and brought him to Lorenzo the Magnificent for greater advancement than he could have afforded him. So let us pay to Ghirlandajo a tribute of respect as we stand by his grave, which is be- neath his frescoes in Santa Maria Novello Church, and breathe over it a ^^Eequiescat in pace/' 163 CHAPTEE X. THE NOONDAY SPLENDOR OF FLORENCE- MICHAEL ANGELO. **You speak a name That always thrills me with a noble sound, As of a trumpet! Michael Angelo! A lion all men fear and none can tame ; A man that all men honor, and the model That all should follow; he consecrates his life To the sublime ideal of his art/' — Longfellow. When young Michael Angelo Buonarroti en- tered the school of painting established by Lo- renzo de' Medici, the Magnificent, he was re- ceived into the household as one of the family by that distinguished personage, whose appel- lation describes his reign. What he did, and how he grew to power and fame, were a long story for this space, and the telling of it, an exalted task; but though the greater part of his work and of his life belong to that larger field for his genius, Rome — we may not seize the excuse and picture only that side light of it which is caught in Florence. 165 Florence. Very speedily after his admittance to the new school of art established in the Medician Palace did he receive the disfigurement which he car- ried through life, a broken nose, done by the mallet in the hands of a fellow-student, enraged at his superiority. **A block of marble caught the glance Of Buonarroti's eyes, Which brightened in their solemn deeps, Like meteor-lighted skies. And one who stood beside him listened, Smiling as he heard; For ^ I will make an angel of it, ' Was the sculptor's word. And mallet soon and chisel sharp The stubborn block assailed. And blow by blow, and pang by pang, The prisoner unveiled. A brow was lifted, high and pure, The waking eyes outshone; And as the master sharply wrought, A smile broke through the stone ! Beneath the chisel's edge, the hair Escaped in floating rings ; And, plume by plume, was slowly freed The sweep of half-furled wings. 166 Michael Angelo. The stately bust and graceful limbs Their marble fetters shed, And where the shapeless block had been An angel stood instead ! ' ' ****** — Anonymous. An early work in sculpture is the Bacchus in the Uffizi, but his greatest works in Florence are the Sagrestia Nuova and the tombs of the Medici, in San Lorenzo, which were ordered by the Medician pope, Clement VII, in the early sixteenth century. Four tombs with their mon- uments were ordered by him — one for Giuliano, the brother of Lorenzo the Magnificent, who was killed while at the services in Maria del Fiore, in the uprising of the Pazzi family against the Medici in 1478 ; one for Lorenzo the Magnificent, who was the father of that other Medician pope, Leo X; one for the Magnifi- cent 's third son, Giuliano, and one for the grandson of the Magnificent, Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino, who was the father of Catherine de' Medici, afterwards queen of France. A map of the family relationships would look like this : LORENZO, THE MAGNIFICENT. . ^ ^ Pietro. Giovanni, Pope Leo X. Giuliano. Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino. I Catherine de' Medici, Queen of France. GIULIANO, MURDERED BY THE PAZZI. Giulio, Pope Clement VII. 167 Florence. Only two of the tombs were completed, or nearly so — the one for Giuliano, the son of the Magnificent, and the other for his grandson, Lorenzo, the Duke of Urbino. Guarding the tombs and beneath the statues are the recumbent figures of Night and Day, and Twilight and Dawn, which have aroused encomiums since their creation. ^'Nor then forget that chamber of the Dead, Where the gigantic shapes of Night and Day, Turned into stone, rest everlastingly, Yet still are breathing, and shed round at noon A two-fold influence — only to be felt — A light, a darkness, mingled each with each, Both and yet neither. There, from age to age. Two ghosts are sitting on their sepulchres. That is the Duke Lorenzo. Mark him well. He meditates, his head upon his hand; What from beneath his helm-like bonnet scowls ! Is it a face, or but an eyeless skull T' — Rogers. When the poet Strozzi, who was a friend of Angelo's, wrote this about the figure of Night on the monument : **La Notte che tu vedi in si' dolci atti Dormiri, fu da un Angelo scolpita In questo sasso, e perche' dorme, ha vita ; Destala se nol credi, e parleratti. ' ' 168 Tomb of Giuliano de' Medici Michael Angelo Michael Angelo. By many translated : ^^The niglit that here reposing, thou dost see, An Angel from the stone hath new created. She sleeps, but lifers flame is animated. What ! dost thou doubt 1 Wake her, she '11 speak to thee!'' ** Night in so sweet an attitude beheld Asleep, was by an angel sculptured In this stone ; and, sleeping, is alive ; Waken her, doubter, she will speak to thee. ' ' * ^ Carved by an Angel, in this marble white Sweetly reposing, lo, the Goddess Night, Calmly she sleeps, and so must living be ; Awake her gently; she will speak to thee." — J. A, Wright. Michael replied, referring to the tyranny by which the Medici then oppressed Florence: ^^Grato m' e' il sonno, e piu' esser di sasso Mentre che il danno e la vergogna dura ; Non veder, non sentir, m ' e ' gran ventura ; Pero ' non mi destar, deh ! parla basso ! " * ^ Sweet 'tis to sleep ; and sweeter to be stone In days which shame and vilest wrongs de- prave ; Neither to see nor hear is all I crave, Therefore speak low, and let me slumber on. ' ' 169 Florence. * * Welcome is sleep, more welcome sleep of stone Whilst crime and shame continue in the land ; My happy fortune, not to see or hear ; Waken me not — in mercy, whisper low. ' ' * * Grateful is sleep, whilst wrong and shame sur- vive ; More grateful still in senseless stone to live ; Gladly both si^ht and hearing I forego, Oh! then wake me not! Hush! whisper low." << < Night' seemed to sleep, and ^Dawn' to wake Behind the walls of old St. Lawrence — There hung a spell we would not break About our Eastertide in Florence.'' — The Earl of Crewe, **Is thine hour come to wake, slumbering Night? Hath not the Dawn a message in thine ear? Though thou be stone and sleep, yet shalt thou hear When the words fall from heaven — Let there be Light. Thou knowest we would not do thee the despite To wake thee while the old sorrow and shame were near; We spake not loud for thy sake, and for fear Lest thou shouldst lose the rest that was thy right. The blessing given thee that was thine alone, The happiness to sleep and to be stone : 170 Michael Angelo. Nay, we kept silence of thee for thy sake Albeit we knew thee alive, and left with thee The great good gift to feel not, nor to see ; But will not yet thine Angel bid thee wake 1 ' ^ — Swinburne, ^^MichaePs Night and Day And Dawn and Twilight wait in marble scorn. Like dogs upon a dunghill, couched on clay From which the Medician stamp's outworn. The final putting off of all such sway By all such hands, and freeing of the unborn In Florence and the great world outside Flor- ence. Three hundred years his patient statues wait In that small chapel of the dim St. Laurence ; Day's eyes are breaking bold and passionate Over his shoulder, and will flash abhorrence On darkness, and with level looks meet fate, "When once loose from that marble film of theirs ; The Night has wild dreams in her sleep, and Dawn Is haggard as the sleepless ; Twilight wears A sort of horror, as the veil withdrawn 'Twixt the Artist's soul and works had left them heirs Of speechless thoughts which would not quail nor fawn. Of angers and contempts, of hope and love ; For not without a meaning did he place 171 Florence. The princely Urbino on the seat above With everlasting shadow on his face, While the slow dawns and twilights disapprove The ashes of his long-extinguished race Which never more shall clog the feet of men. ' ' — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, THE STATUE OF LORENZO DE 'MEDICI. *^Mark me how still I am — The sound of feet Unnumbered echoing through this vaulted hall, Or voices harsh, on me unheeded fall, Placed high in my memorial niche and seat, In cold and marble meditation meet Among proud tombs and pomp funereal Of rich sarcophagi and sculptured wall, — In death's elaborate elect retreat. I was a Prince, — this monument was wrought That I in honor might eternal stand ; In vain, subdued by Buonarroti's hand. The conscious stone is pregnant with his thought ; He to this brooding rock his fame devised, And he, not I, is here immortalized. ' ' — James Ernest Nesmith. Hawthorne says of the statues : **No such grandeur and majesty have else- where been put into human shape." Angelo's David was hewn from a solid block of Carrara marble which for many years was 172 Tomb of Lorenzo de' Medici Michael Angela Michael Angelo. thrown aside as useless, having been spoiled in the fashioning by a sculptor working on the building of Maria della Fiore. He built a shed around the marble and with his magic hammer, more potent than that of Thor's of old, wrought and chiseled into liberty the being imprisoned there. We may imagine how his spirit sung to his chosen mistress, Sculpture, as he worked : **As when, lady mine, With chiselled touch The stone unhewn and cold Becomes a living mould. The more the marble wastes The more the statue grows/' — Mrs. Roscoe, Translator. And all Florence rejoiced, as they rejoiced before at the sight of that marvel of Cimabui's, and summoned artists from far and near to pass judgment upon the spot worthy to hold so great a miracle; Botticelli, Perugino and Leonardo da Vinci came, and the site decreed worthy of the king — the king of statues and the king of Israel that was to be — was the ringhieri of the Palazzo Vecchio, from which Donatello's Judith was removed to make place. The David later was put into the Academy and a copy in bronze, which was intended to take its place be- fore the Palazzo, is now standing in the Piazza Michael Angelo, on the heights of San Miniato, 173 Florence. a spot overlooking the whole of Florence, and which Michael Angelo himself had fortified in the Eepublic 's endeavor to keep out the Medici. SAN MINIATO. ^' While slow on Miniato's heights I roam, And backward look to Brunelleschi's dome, 'Tis strange to think that here on many a day Old Michael Angelo has paced his way. And watching Florence, in his bosom found A nobler world than that which lies around. To him, perhaps, the ghost of Dante came At sunset, with his pride of mournful fame. By me the twain, the bard and sculptor stand. With strong lip gazing and uplifted hand. The great, the sad, fighters in ages past. With their full peace fill e 'en the weak at last. ' ' — John Sterling, Sonnet of Michael Angelo Buonarroti : *^ Never did sculptor's dream unfold A form which marble doth not hold In its white block ; yet it therein shall find Only the hand secure and bold Which still obeys the mind. So hide in thee, thou heavenly dame, The ill I shun, the good I claim ; I alas ! not well alive. Miss the aim whereto I strive. Not love, nor beauty's pride, ^ 174 David Michael Angela Michael Angelo. Nor Fortune, nor thy coldness, can I chide, If, whilst within thy heart abide Both death and pity, my unequal skill Fails of the life, but draws the death and ill. ' ' — Translated hy Ralph Waldo Emerson. One strong characteristic of Angelo 's is his knowledge of anatomy, and his making use of that knowledge in all his work. In fact, he strives to express all phases of feeling by anat- omy. He scorns clothing, as such, and holds up the human form as something divine. Eealizing that fact, we may be able to better understand his Holy Family in the Uffizi, the only picture in Florence finished by himself. It is a work done in his nineteenth year, and is not a pleasing composition, either in its presenta- ton or execution. The work was done in tempera, a process often employed by the early painters who used for colors the yolk of eggs — or the yolk and whites mixed — and the white juice of the fig trees. Michael Angelo never used oils in paint- ing. As to the presentation of the subjects in the Holy Family, — while Angelo clothed the central figures he obtruded into the scene his ^^ anat- omy, '' by crowding into the background figure upon figure of — what! If they represent an- gels, they certainly have not put off their mor- tality, neither have they put on any angelic at- 175 Florence. tributes, and are clothed not even with wings, but with much of what angels are supposed to be without — anatomy. But listen — ''The painters introduced into their pictures what they loved best, in earth or sky, as votive offerings to the Queen of Heaven; and what Signorelli and Michael Angelo best loved was the human form.'' — Edmund G. Gardiner. This quotation from one of Michael Angelo 's sonnets may help us rise to the heights of the grandeur of his sculptural presentation — for he was a sculptor, first and foremost, by choice, having become a painter only upon compul- sion: *'Nor does God vouchsafe to reveal Himself to me anywhere more than in Some lovely mortal veil, and that Alone I love, because He is mirrored therein.'* *'The sinful painter drapes his goddess warm, Because she still is naked, being dressed; The godlike sculptor will not so deform Beauty, which limbs and flesh enough invest." — Ralph Waldo Emerson. Michael Angelo placed a critic of his nude, a scrupulous cardinal, in Hell, in his fresco of the Last Judgment: 176 The Holy Family Michael Angela Michael Angelo. *^But this last judgment Has been the cause of more vexation to me Than it will be of honor. Ser Biagio Master of Ceremonies at the Papal Court, A man punctilious and over-nice, Calls it improper, says that those nude forms, Showing their nakedness in such shameless fashion, Are better suited to a common bagnio. Or wayside wine-shop, than a Papal Chapel. To punish him, I painted him as Minos And leave him there as Master of Ceremonies In the Infernal Regions. ' ' — Longfellow, Everyone knows the retort the Pope made when petitioned by the cardinal to interfere : ^ * If it had been purgatory you were placed in, I should exert my influence to have you re- moved, but ^out of hell there is no redemp- tion, ' ' ' and the cardinal remains in hell to this day, — in the picture. A copy of a work which was intended as a decoration for a room in the Palazzo Vecchio — Soldiers Surprised while Bathing in the Arno, was so wonderful a study in anatomy that the Medici had it locked up for safe keeping in their palace, to be used for the instruction of artists, by whom it was finally cut into pieces and scat- tered in every direction, some of the pieces now being in Mantua. 177 Florence. Eogers in his poem, Italy, thus describes the scene portrayed by the cartoon ; *^Oft, as that great Artist saw, Whose pencil had a voice, the cry, ^To arms !' And the shrill trumpet, hurried to the bank Those who had stolen an hour to breast the tide. And wash from their unharnessed limbs the blood And sweat of battle. Sudden was the rush. Violent the tumult, for already in sight Nearer and nearer yet drew the danger. Each and every sinew straining, every nerve. Each snatching up, and girding, buckling on Marion and greave and shirt of twisted mail. As for his life — no more perchance to taste Arno — the grateful freshness of the glades. The waters, — where, exulting he had felt A swimmer's transport, there, alas! to float and welter ! ' ' Of the many figures which were to adorn the monument of Pope Julius II only one was fin- ished — the Moses in San Pietro in Vinculi in Eome, but the others which Angelo had de- signed for the same monument, and which were executed by his pupils, are now in the Accade- mia, with a collection of casts of his works and with his David. Could Dante 's love for Beatrice or Petrarch 's for Laura have been more pure than that of Michael Angelo for Vittoria Colonna? 178 Michael Angelo. In the Galerie Czartoryski is a portrait of Vittoria, painted by him, but it is not ^ * by color or by stone, ' ' he immortalizes her — it is by his pen ; for only second to his power as a sculptor or as an artist is his power as a poet. **How can that be, lady, which all men learn By long experience ? Shapes that seem alive, Wrought in hard mountain marble, will survive Their maker, whom the years to dust return ! Thus to effect, cause yields. Art hath her turn, And triumphs over nature. I, who strive with sculpture. Know this well: her wonders live In spite of time and death, those tyrants stern. So I can give long life to both of us In either way, by color or by stone. Making the semblance of thy face and mine. Centuries hence, when both are buried. Thus thy beauty and my sadness shall be shown. And men will say, *For her 'twas wise to pine.^ '' — Michael Angelo. THE MIGHT OF ONE FAIR FACE. *^The might of one fair face sublimes my love, For it hath weaned my heart from low desires ; Nor death I heed, nor purgatorial fires. Thy beauty, antepast of joys above. Instructs me in the bliss that saints approve ; For 0, how good, how beautiful, must be 179 Florence. The God that made so good a thing as thee, So fair an image of the heavenly Dove ! Forgive me if I cannot turn away From those sweet eyes that are my earthly heaven, For they are guiding stars, benignly given To tempt my footsteps to the upward way; And if I dwell too fondly in thy sight, I live and love in God's peculiar light.'' — Translation attributed to J. E. Taylor and also to Hartley Coleridge. The same sonnet is thus translated by Wil- liam Wordsworth : **Eapt above earth by power of one fair face, Hers in whose sway alone my heart delights, I mingle with the blest on those pure heights Where Man, yet mortal, rarely finds a place. With Him who made that Work that Work ac- cords So well, that by its help and through His grace I raise my thoughts, inform my deeds and words, Clasping her beauty in my soul's embrace. Thus, if from two fair eyes mine cannot turn, I feel how in their presence doth abide Light which to God is both the way and guide ; And, kindling at their luster, if I burn. My noble fire emits the joyful ray That through the realms of glory shines for aye. ' ' 180 Michael Angelo Reading his Sonnets to Vittoria Colonna Schneider Michael Angelo. TO VITTORIA COLONNA. By Michael Angelo. ^^Wheii of some form and face, Art, pure, di- vine, Has caught the expressive mien, the features' play, A model next it forms of humble clay. Then th' ideal and the first birth combine ; But next in marble fair those features shine, If truthful genius prompt the artist 's care ; And thus renascent, beautiful and fair, Its glories neither Place nor Time confine. Lady, both great and good, in me you view That first imperfect model ; thanks to thee. Remodelled, born anew, 'tis mine to be. If my defects thy pious aid supply And the redundant smooth, what shall excuse My vain, dark mind should it such aid refuse 1 ' ' — Translated by John S. Harford, Angelo 's grief at the death of Vittoria is de- scribed by Stuart Stern in his poem, *^ Angelo." ** Robed in stainless white. Her hair unbound and streaming down In gleaming flood about her, the clasped hands Folding a lily-stem, she lay before him. On her placid brow a calm unspeakable, A peace so deep, it beamed like to a light. He long stood thus, with burning, tearless eyes, Immovable as if turned to stone. 181 Florence. When, suddenly, he knelt and kissed her hands, And covering up his face, fled from the room — Sped from the house, into the silent street. His brain afire With thousand whirling thoughts, he wandered on Swiftly from street to street, and place to place, He knew not, cared not, whither. And then be- side A fallen column split from top to base. He dropped upon his knees and cried aloud : * * Christ — Jesus — Lord — Eedeemer — Helper — Savior, Help, save me now"; and then, Eemembering the last words the Savior uttered. He, too, cried suddenly out: ^It is accom- plished ! I give her up, my God, to Thee and to him ! I do submit me to my Father's will!' Those few who met him, As in the gray light of early dawn He slowly threaded back his weary way Through the long street, stepped shyly from his path. Fancying they beheld one risen from the dead. For three days more no one saw Angelo About the city, none but old Matteo Knew he had yet returned from his long jour- ney; 182 Michael Angelo. Then he appeared, and hastily fell to work , On a great block of finest grain, ^till 'neath His restless hands there grew to life a form That proved a pride and marvel to the world. But he The master, who had wrought the wondrous work. Ne'er passed it by in after years, but that He turned his face away, and in his soul Eose up the words he wrote beneath the cross : ^No one hath knowledge how much blood it cost!''' IRREPARABLE LOSS. AFTER THE DEATH OF VITTORIA COLONNA. * * When my rude hammer to the stubborn stone Gives human shape, now that, now this, at will, Following his hand who wields and guides it still. It moves upon another's feet alone: But that which dwells in heaven, the world doth fill With beauty by pure motions of its own ; And since tools fashion tools which else were none. Its life makes all that lives with living skill. Now, for that every stroke excels the more. The higher at the forge it doth ascend. Her soul that fashioned mine hath sought the skies : 183 Florence. Wherefore unfinished I must meet my end, If God, the great Artificer, denies That aid which was unique on earth before. ' ' — Translated from Michael Angelo hy John Addington Symonds. MICHABLANGELO'S KISS. ** Great Michaelangelo, with age grown bleak And uttermost labors, having once o'er said All grievous memories on his long life shed. This worst regret to one true heart could speak : That when with sorrowing love and reverence meek. He stooped o'er sweet Colonna's bed. His Muse and dominent Lady, spirit — wed, — Her hand he kissed, but not her brow or cheek. Buonarroti — good at Art 's fire- wheels To urge her chariot — even thus the Soul, Touching at length some sorely-chasened goal, Earns oftenest but a little : her appeals Were deep and mute — lowly her claim. Let be : What holds for her Death's garner? And for thee?" — Dante Gabriel RossettL The following sonnet is translated by Words- worth and is entitled — 184 Michael Angelo. AT FLORENCE. FKOM M. ANGELO. * * Eternal Lord ! eased of a cumbrous load, And loosened from the world, I turn to Thee ; Shun, like a shattered bark, the storm, and flee To thy protection for a safe abode. The crown of thorns, hands pierced upon the tree. The meek, benign and lacerated face, To a sincere repentance promise grace, To the sad soul give hope of pardon free. With justice mark not Thou, Light divine, My fault, nor hear it with thy sacred ear ; Neither put forth that way thy arm severe ; Wash with thy blood my sins ; thereto incline More readily the more my years require Help, and forgiveness speedy and entire." From Michael Angelo 's sonnet to Vasari, translated by Symonds : *^Now hath my life across a stormy sea. Like a frail bark, reached that wide port where all Are bidden, ere the final reckoning fall Of good and evil for eternity. ****** Painting nor sculpture now can lull to rest My soul that turns to His great Love on high, Whose arms, to clasp us, on the cross were spread." 185 Florence. Michael Angelo died in Rome in 1564, after a strenuous life of ninety years, and though the pope wished to retain the body in the Eternal City, the Florentines secretly conveyed it to Florence, and with fitting ceremonies placed it in Santa Croce, in the Buonarotti tomb. Vasari designed the monument, a bust of the great man in a niche, with the figures of the Arts mourning over his sarcophagus; Cosimo, the Grand Duke, contributed the marble for it. He is the first of the renowned ones whose burials within Santa Croce have made it to be the Pantheon of Florence. *^In Santa Croce 's holy precincts lie Ashes which make it holier, dust which is Even in itself an immortality; Here repose Angelo 's, Alfieri's bones, and his, The starry Galileo, with his woes ; Here Machiavelli 's earth, returned to whence it rose.'' — Byron, Nor would it be fitting to have no memorial in the Eternal City, in which he labored so long and so well — and there is a monument erected to his memory in the church of the Holy Apos- tles, with the following inscription : Tanto nom- ini nullum par elogium. (No praise is sufficient for so great a man.) -^ 186 Michael Angelo. * ' The hand that rounded Peter 's dome And groined the aisles of Christian Rome Wrought in a sad sincerity; Himself from God he could not free ; He builded better than he knew — The conscious stone to beauty grew/' — Ralph Waldo Emerson, MICHAEL ANGELO BUONARROTI. **This is the rugged face Of him who won a place Above all kings and lords ; Whose various skill and power Left Italy a dower No numbers can compute, no tongue translate in words. Patient to train and school His genius to the rule Art's sternest laws required; Yet, by no custom chained. His daring hand disdained The academic forms by tamer souls admired. In his interior light Awoke those shapes of might, Once known, that never die ; Forms of Titanic birth. The elder brood of earth, That fill the mind more grandly than they charm the eye. 187 Florence. Yet when the master chose, Ideal graces rose Like flowers on gnarled boughs; For he was nursed and fed At Beauty's fountain-head, And to the goddess pledged his earliest, warm- est vows. Entranced in thoughts whose vast Imaginations passed Into his facile hand. By adverse fate unfoiled, Through long, long years he toiled ; Undimmed the eyes that saw, unworn the brain that planned. A soul the Church's bars. The State's disastrous wars Kept closer to his youth. Though rough the winds and sharp. They could not bend or warp His soul's ideal forms of beauty and of truth. Like some cathedral spire That takes the earliest fire Of morn, he towered sublime O'er names and fames of mark Whose lights to his were dark; Facing the east, he caught a glow beyond his time. 188 Michael Angelo. Whether he drew or sung, Or wrought in stone, or hung The pantheon in air; Whether he gave to Eome His Sistine walls or dome, Or laid the ponderous beams, or lightly wound the stair; Whether he planned defense On Tuscan's battlements, Fired with the patriot 's zeal, Where San Miniato's glow Smiled down upon the foe. Till Treason won the gates that mocked the in- vader's steel. Whether in lonely nights With Poesy's delights He cheered his solitude ; In sculptured sonnets wrought His firm and graceful thought. Like marble altars in some dark and mystic wood, — Still, proudly poised, he stepped The way his vision swept. And scorned the narrower view. He touched with glory all That pope or cardinal. With lower aims than his, allotted him to do. 189 Florence. A heaven or larger zone — Not theirs, but his — was thrown O'er old and wonted themes. The fires within his soul Shone like an aureole Around the prophets old and sibyls of his dreams. Thus self-contained and bold, His glowing thoughts he told On canvas or on stone. He needed not to seek His themes from Jew or Greek ; His soul enlarged their forms, his style was all his own. Ennobled by his hand, Florence and Eome shall stand Stamped with the signet-ring He wore, where kings obeyed The laws the artists made. Art was his world, and he was Art's annointed king. So stood this Angelo Four hundred years ago ; So grandly still he stands, 'Mid lesser worlds of Art, Colossal and apart. Like Memmon breathing songs across the des- ert sands. ' ' — C. P. Cranch. 190 CHAPTER XI. THE MAGNIFICENT AND THE MONK. Besides the school of art established by Lo- renzo de' Medici, the Magnificent, the founding of the great art collection of the Uffizi Gallery, and the enrichment of the Laurentian Library — named for himself — ^he maintained a Platonic Academy in which not only ancient writers were studied, but also young intellects were encour- aged to sprout and to blossom. He himself was not only a student of the clas- sics, but he was well known as a poet and a philosopher and a truly brilliant star in the Platonic firmament. As to the nature of his sonnets and songs, we are told that they were immensely popular with the gilded youth of his time, who, reeling through the streets at night, would lustily sing forth sentiments which would now cause the most hardened sinners to blush. ^'If it were so, it were a grievous fault!" Was it Achilles of old, who had a vulnerable heel? Perhaps the Medici had one, but let us not look for it. And, in regard to Lorenzo, as the bee sucks honey and the wasp poison, from the same flower, let us be the bee and cull what honey there is in his sonnets : 191 Florence. JEALOUSY. *^Sad, in a nook obscure, and sighing deep, A pale and haggard beldame shrinks from view; Her gloomy vigils there she loves to keep, Wrapt in a robe of ever-changing hue ; A hundred eyes she has that ceaseless weep, A hundred ears that pay attention due. Imagined evils aggravate her grief. Heedless to sleep, and stubborn to relief. HOPE. Immense of bulk, her towering head she shows, Her floating tresses seem to touch the skies. Dark mists her unsubstantial shape compose. And on the mountain's top her dwelling lies. As when the clouds fantastic shapes disclose, Forever varying to the gazer's eyes. Till on the breeze the changeful hues escape. Thus vague her form, and mutable her shape. THE LOVER'S CHAIN. Dear are those bonds my willing heart that bind, Formed of three cords, in mystic union twined ; The first by beauty's rosy fingers wove. The next by pity, and the third by love. The hour that gave this wondrous texture birth, Saw in sweet union, heaven, and air, and earth ; Serene and soft all ether breath 'd delight. The sun diffus'd a mild and temper 'd light ; 192 The Magnificent and the Monk. New leaves the trees, sweet flowers adorned the mead, And sparkling rivers rush'd along the glade. Reposed on Jove's own breast, his favorite child, The Cyprian queen beheld the scene and smiled ; Then with both hands, from her ambrosial head And amorous breast, a shower of roses shed; The heavenly shower descending soft and slow, Pour'd all its fragrance on my fair below; Whilst all benign the ruler of the spheres To sounds celestial opened mortal ears/' ORISONS AND LAUDS. * * All nature, hear the sacred song ! ' Attend, earth, the solemn strain! Ye whirlwinds wild that sweep along. Ye darkening storms of beating rain. Umbrageous glooms, and forests drear. And solitary deserts, hear ! Be still, ye winds, whilst to the Maker's praise The creature of His power aspires his voice to raise. may the solemn breathing sound Like incense rise before the throne. Where He, whose glory knows no bound. Great cause of all things, dwells alone. 'Tis He I sing, whose powerful hand Balanced the skies, outspread the land; 193 Florence. Who spoke — from ocean's store sweet waters came, And burst resplendent from the heaven-aspir- ing flame. One general song of praise arise To Him whose goodness ceaseless flows ; Who dwells enthroned beyond the skies, And life and breath on all bestows. Great source of intellect, His ear Benign receives our vows sincere ; Eise, then, my active powers, your task fulfill, And give to Him your praise, responsive to my will. Partaker of that living stream Of light, that pours an endless blaze, let thy strong reflected beam. My understanding, speak His praise. My soul, in steadfast love secure. Praise Him whose word is ever sure ; To Him, sole just, my sense of right incline, Join every prostrate limb, my ardent spirit, join.'' — Translated by W, Roscoe. STANZAS. ** Follow that fervor, devoted spirit. With which thy Savior's goodness fires thy breast ! Go where it draws, and when it calls. Oh, hear it! It is thy Shepherd's voice, and leads to rest. 194 The Magnificent and the Monk. In this thy new devotedness of feeling, Suspicion, envy, anger, have no claim; Sure hope is highest happiness revealing, With peace, and gentleness, and purest flame. For in thy holy and thy happy sadness If tears and sighs are sown by thee. In the pure regions of immortal gladness Sweet and eternal shall thy harvest be. Leave them to say, *This people's meditation Is vain and idle ! ' sit with ear and eye Fixed upon Christ, in childlike dedication, thou inhabitant of Bethany ! ' ' — Translated in London Magazine, HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. * * From the star highest placed On earth, a flood of light divine hath poured. O glorious queen, Virgin-spouse and Mother of the Lord, O matin Eay serene — Happy who bends, I ween. Unto this holy Mother, fair and chaste. sweetness prized ; joy supreme; Solace and Support; Maid, holy, undefiled, The sinner's Heaven, Victory and Port ; Vase, the Messiah's styled. Our Savior 's ; Mary mild. Guide to that treasure by the world despised. 195 Florence. Mother, so worthy thou, That heaven and earth and sun and stars and sea Praise thee in festal hymn. distant Light of shining radiancy ; Memory never dim, Gate, Triumph — pride of Him — That Treasure who in heaven reigns happy now.'' — Translated hy E, M. Gierke, Politiano, a poet of note, and a close friend of Lorenzo 's, pays this tribute to him : **And thou, Lorenzo, rushing forth to fame, Support of Cosmo's and of Piero's name, Safe in whose shadow Arno hears from far, And smiles to hear, the thunder of the war ; Endow 'd with arts the listening throng to move, The senate's wonder and the people's love. Chief of the tuneful train ! thy praises hear. If praise of mine can charm thy cultured ear ; For once, the lonely woods and vales among, A mountain goddess caught thy soothing song ; As swelled the notes she pierced the winding dell. And sat beside thee in thy secret cell; I saw her hands the laurel chaplet twine. Whilst with attentive ear she drank the sounds divine. ' ' — Translated hy W, Roscoe. 196 The Magnificent and the Monk. Lorenzo and his brother Giuliano were the tacitly acknowledged rulers of Florence, but they met opposition in a faction headed by the Pazzi family, a member of which had married their sister Bianca, and why should the Medici be supreme, when there were others capable and willing to occupy the same eminence? well, maybe it was patriotism, maybe Florence did want her freedom, maybe the Eepublic was a mere name, well-nigh obliterated by that of the Medici — anyhow, the plot to assassinate them took effect while they were at services in the Duomo, the Easter of 1478, and Giuliano lost his life, but Lorenzo's was saved through the heroic action of the Prior of the Republic, Francesco Nori, who threw himself before Lo- renzo, and so received the fatal blow. That action is commemorated by a tablet in Santa Croce, and later the son of the Medici so saved — Pope Leo X — granted an Indulgence to all who should pray for the repose of his soul. Giuliano left a son, named Giulio, who also became pope — Clement VII. Closely interwoven with the history of the Medici at this period was a Florentine of world- wide repute, and one whose name has coined a new word for the language — Niccolo Machia- velli. Born in 1469, the year that Lorenzo the Magnificent assumed the leadership in Flor- ence, he at the expulsion of the Medici after the death of Lorenzo and the treachery of his son 197 Florence. Pietro, was given the position of secretary of the newly reorganized Eepublic, which posi- tion he held until the return of the Medici in 1512. He strove to arouse the Florentines to a per- sonal defense of their city — fighting being the work, at that time, of paid mercenaries, and at the return of the Medici, he was charged with treason. He was recalled to their favor later, and appointed historian. His history of Flor- ence deals with the thirteenth century; his no- torious work, Del Principe — the Prince — aroused consternation for its shameless lack of right principles ; it laid the foundation, however, to its author's claim for being the father of political science. His comedies are the first to represent actual life and dialogue on the stage. In 1527 on the sack of Rome and the impris- onment of Clement VII, the Florentines again drove forth the Medici, but as he was suspected of favoring them, the Republic did not coun- tenance him, and in the same year he died. He was buried in Santa Croce Church, and his home in Florence still remains. No. 16, Via Guicciardini, within a short distance from the Palazzo Vecchio. Machiavelian principles imply political cun- ning and craftiness, and ^ ^ a Machiavelian is an unprincipled citizen.'* — Dictionary. Another opponent of Lorenzo 's was the Prior of San Marco, Savonarola. His opposition was 198 The Magnificent and the Monk. based on moral grounds, as well as on political ones. Howbeit, Lorenzo gave the Prior his re- spect, although he could not gain the latter 's favor. The account of his summoning him to Ca- reggi to his death-bed, is famous : **This interview was scarcely terminated, when a visitor of a very different character ar- rived. This was the haughty and enthusiastic Savonarola, who probably thought that in the last moments of agitation and of suffering he might be enabled to collect materials for his fac- tious purposes. With apparent charity and kindness, the priest exhorted Lorenzo to remain firm in the Catholic faith; to which Lorenzo professed his strict adherence. He then re- quired an avowal of his intention, in case of his recovery, to live a virtuous and well-regulated life ; to this he also signified his sincere assent. Lastly, he reminded him that, if needful, he ought to bear his death with fortitude. *With cheerfulness,' replied Lorenzo, 4f such be the will of God.' **0n his quitting the room, Lorenzo called him back, and as an unequivocal mark that he harbored in his bosom no resentment against him for the injuries he had received, requested the priest would bestow upon him his benedic- tion, with which he instantly complied, Lorenzo making the responses with a firm and collected — From the Life of Lorenzo, by Roscoe. 199 Florence. To which paragraph, this note is attached : **In the Life of Savonarola, written in Latin at considerable length by Giovan Francesco Pico, prince of Mirandula, nephew of the cele- brated Pico, whom we have had occasion so fre- quently to mention, an account is given of this interview, which differs in its most essential particulars from that which is here related. If we may credit this narrative, Lorenzo, when at the point of death, sent to request the attend- ance of Savonarola, to whom he was desirous of making a confession. Savonarola accordingly came, but, before he would consent to receive him as a penitent, required that he should de- clare his adherence to the true faith, to which Lorenzo assented. He then insisted on a prom- ise from Lorenzo, that if he had unjustly ob- tained the property of others, he would return it. Lorenzo, after a short hesitation, replied, * Doubtless, father, I shall do this, or, if it be not in my power, I shall enjoin it as a duty on my heirs.' Thirdly, Savonarola required that he should restore the Republic to liberty, and es- tablish it in its former state of independence, to which Lorenzo, not choosing to make any reply, the priest left him without giving him his abso- lution. (Savor, vita, inter vit. select viror. ap. Bats. Lond. 1704.) A story that exhibits evi- dent symptoms of that party spirit which did not arise in Florence until after the death of Lorenzo, and which, being contradictory to the 200 The Magnificent and the Monk. account left by Politiano, written before the motives for misrepresentation existed, is ren- dered deserving of notice only by the necessity of its refutation.'' The latter account of Lorenzo 's death is often credited, the prevalent sentiment in that regard being voiced by Mrs. Browning: **Who also by a princely death-bed, cried, 'Loose Florence, or God will not loose thy soul ! ' Then fell back the Magnificent and died Beneath the star-look shooting from the cowl, "Which turned to wormwood-bitterness the wide Deep sea of his ambition. ' ' It is also voiced by Alfred Austin, in his tragedy, Savonarola: Lorenzo: * ' Of all the company of hearts that sit Eound our existence smiling, that not one Should be told off to see us to the land. The road of which we know not ! That seems hard." So he sends for Savonarola to light the way. Savonarola: ''Why have you sent for me? Lorenzo : To readjust Before I journey on, unbalanced wrongs That gall my conscience. 201 Florence. Savonarola: Show me them ! Since that it seems Plato avails not now. Philosophy, like any false ally, Comes to man^s aid when need is at the least, To shrink away in true extremity. But Virtue, unaffected friend, contrives To pull us through, though all the fiends con- spire To wedge us in with evil. Lorenzo: I have made Elsewhere confession of my homelier sins. But those transgressions that have walked abroad In all men^s eyes, I have reserved for one Who knows no private favor. Savonarola: Then speak on! Death is the looking-glass of life wherein Each man may scan the aspect of his deeds. How looks it now, Lorenzo, now that God Holds the unflattering mirror to your soul? Lorenzo: 'Tis hard on twenty years since, but still, still, The cry of sacked Volterra haunts my ears. Savonarola: And well it may, Lorenzo ! Do you think Thus to divide eternity? Twenty years Have placed no second 'twixt your sin and you. 202 The Magnificent and the Monk. Lorenzo: I know it, Prior ; and poignantly confess To you and heaven the guilt was mostly mine. Endorsing claims equivocal, to glut The yawning coffers of the State, I clutched A shadowy right ; the alum mines were won. And now the gain lies leaden on my breast. Though bade I not the slaughter. Savonarola: Hold! We bid Whatever buttresses our bold designs. And are the architects of every wrong Raised o'er the ruins of demolished right. You cannot take before the throne of God The quarry of your hunting ; but the blood Clings to your hands. Lorenzo: Seem they so red? So red, contrition cannot wash them white? For there is other gore that soaks my skirt. Spilt in usurious payment of the blow Struck by the Pazzi at my life, but spilt Not from vindictiveness, but policy. Savonarola: Will policy avail to change the score Of the Recording Angel? Hell is full Of politic expedients, condoned By Earth, to double their offense 'fore Heaven. 203 Florence. God saved your life ; you slew your enemies. (Lorenzo exhibits sign of agitation.) Yet will He pardon even as He saved, So anguish in the balance lift up guilt. Is your confession ended? Lorenzo : Alas ! no. Full many an orphan maiden hath been robbed Of dowry guaranteed ; and virtue, shorn Of its substantial outwork, hath succumbed To the besieger. This seems direst wrong. Savonarola: And is the direst wrong. The body pushed Out of this life precociously may find A better tenement. But he that fouls A virgin soul and leaves it to corrupt Would strain God's mercy to the snapping- point. If it were not far-reaching as Himself. You must amend this injury. Lorenzo : Show me how, And quickly will I do it. Savonarola: It is enough. Let restitution be in full ordained; And, if you live, each victim ferret out And wed her to the cloister. 204 The IVIagnificent and the Monk. Lorenzo: Doing this, May I the Almighty Arbiter confront, And reckon on indulgence? Savonarola: Naught that is, Mountain, nor sea, nor the vast atmosphere. Nor even man's stupendous scope of sin, Can get beyond the circumambient range Of Divine mercy. But before my hands May absolution shower upon your soul. Three things there are first indispensable. Lorenzo: What may these be ? Savonarola: Firstly, that you should have Faith in God's mercy, living faith and full. Lorenzo : And that I have ; for if I had it not. How ill-caparisoned were I to start Upon this final journey! Savonarola: Next, that you Make reparation absolute, and lay This as a prior legacy on your sons. For lingering wrong to friend or enemy. To this you pawn your soul? 205 Florence. Lorenzo: My soul be bond, And forfeit if I fail. Savonarola: Lastly, Lorenzo, But mainly this of all, you must restore Her liberties to Florence. Lorenzo : (Starting forward on the couch.) Friar, hold! You overstep your territory there, And make a raid on my dominions. Eemember what is Caesar's. Savonarola: Do I fail? Where did you get your empire? Who was it gave The Medici on Florence that sly grip Which you have tightened? Nay, invoke not God! For he as Caesar ne 'er anointed you ; And failing His anointment, show me then The sanction of His people. Lorenzo: What I have, They freely gave. 206 The Magnificent and the Monk. Savonarola: They were not free to give ; For you with splendor first corrupted them, Drugging their love of virtue, that you might Their love of freedom violate, and they The detriment discern not. Lorenzo: I gave all. All that I have, all I inherited. To vivify this city, and to lift Her diadem of glory high above All cities, kingdoms, principalities ; Lavished the substance of my House on her. Discriminating not which hers, which mine. And die with empty coffers that enriched The fame of Florence. Was it crime in me? In face of heavenly ermine will I claim. For that, exemption. Savonarola: Panders might as well Plead the foul price they pay, as you invoke The substance squandered on the Common- wealth, Whose freedom you have ravished. Well you know In Florence that the government of One Was an abomination till your Line Drew all the reins of rule into its hand. And jingling trappings of subjection laid 207 Florence. Upon a pampered people. Glory! Fame! Fame is but sound ; conscience makes harmony ; And happy he who truthfully can say, When the world's pagan plaudits cease, he hears The sacred music of a virtuous heart. Give Florence back her freedom ! Lorenzo: She is free. And of her freedom made me what I am, And by that freedom will unmake my sons If they run short of wisdom. Savonarola: Then enough! And summon your attendants. (Lorenzo rings. His friends enter.) You have need No more of me. But this, Lorenzo, mark! What you refuse, that Florence swift will take, When your magnificence shall lie entombed. And God arraign you for the right you filched. But could not carry with you, nor bequeath. Die, by my voice unshriven!'' Savonarola strove to steer clear and straight the bark of Florentine affairs after the death of Lorenzo and the expulsion of his son and suc- cessor, Pietro II; but he, too, fell under the might of his enemies and was forced to yield up his life to their fury. He was burned on the 208 Savonarola Fra Bartolommeo The Magnificent and the Monk. Piazza del Signoria, in 1498, on a spot now marked by a statue of him, and annually do the Florentines scatter violets on the place of his execution and strive to wash away with their tears and loving administrations these dark blood spots on her history's page. Florence cannot honor his ashes, for they were scattered into the Arno, but she preserved his monastery, made glorious by Angelico's brush, the San Marco, as a national monument to him, containing his mementoes; his rosary, his writing desk, his manuscripts. Here also is his portrait painted by one who was a disciple of his, and who after his death put on the Dominican habit and became Fra Bartolommeo. Botticelli also painted a memorial for him. The Birth of Christ, in which he depicts some Do- minican monks being led by an angel towards the new born King, whom Savonarola had dur- ing his term of power, proclaimed King of Flor- ence, and Eaphael has placed him among the doctors and preachers of the Church, in his grand fresco, Theologia, in the Vatican. George Eliot, in her powerful novel of Fif- teenth Century Florence, Romolo, paints with her magic pen in strong, indelible ink, the por- trait of that master mind of his age. **Was Savonarola Eeally Excommunicated?" is the title of a book published by a clergyman of his Ord^r, J. L. 'Neil, in which the question is answered in the negative. 209 Florence. Reverend Herbert Lucas, in his scholarly and interesting biographical study of Fra Girolamo Savonarola, quotes from Dr. Schnitzer : * * When Savonarola, degraded and unfrocked, ended his life on the gallows, his cause seemed to be irre- trievably lost, and his enemies triumphed. Nevertheless, he died a conqueror, and he died for the noblest cause for which a man can give his life — for the spread of God's kingdom on earth. The future belonged to him, and he to the church." We may consider the following paragraph as a flashlight perspective of the reverend author's estimate of him: ' ^ The severe austerity of Fra Girolamo 's life, his truly wonderful gift of prayer, his fearless intrepidity, his boundless confidence in God, his keen insight into the true condition of the Church, and of civil society, his surpassing elo- quence, his marvelous influence over the minds and hearts of men, an influence wielded on the whole for the noblest of ends — all these things claim the admiration which is due a truly great and good man. Yet the story of his life re- minds us that even exalted gifts and noble quali- ties such as these may yet be unavailing to save a man from being misled by a subtle temptation into an unacknowledged self-esteem, which may end by sapping the very roots of obedience, by luring him onwards till at last he makes private judgment — in matters of conduct if not of doc- 210 The Magnificent and the Monk. trine — the court of final appeal. And when this point has been reached, only two issues are pos- sible if the conflict becomes acute : spiritual ruin or temporal disaster. It was, perhaps, well for Fra Girolamo that temporal disaster overtook him, and that his baptism of fire came to him in time. ' ' Among the many charges and counter-charges brought against him, we may glean the follow- ing items in regard to his life : Born in Ferrara in 1452, he early became im- bued with philosophy and asceticism; he en- tered the Dominican Order at Bologna in 1474. At his first public appearance as a preacher in Florence in 1484, he failed to arouse enough of interest to warrant the continuance of the course of Lenten sermons that had been inau- gurated. He then was sent to Brescia, where his zeal was recognized ; recalled to Florence in 1489, his success as a preacher was tremendous. His method was forcible and denunciatory, and his favorite themes were Old Testament prophe- cies. He was wont to prophesy events, which often came to pass; he fearlessly denounced all vice which the Renaissance had culled from the pa- gan literature, and he opposed Lorenzo de' Medici, as the exponent of the classicism which was the antithesis of Christianity and morality. Not only did he denounce the Medici, but he also hurled his prophecies against the Borgian 211 Florence. pope, Alexander VI, who then occupied the Ohair of Peter. The adherents of the Medici opposed him, and as his religious views were as strong as his political views on Florentine affairs, the pope imposed silence upon him. He did not obey. Savonarola was finally excommunicated. He did not acknowledge the excommunication, not considering the pope to have been just in the decree, and moreover to have attained to that office through political machinations. Savon- arola was accused of having endeavored to have the king, Charles, form a new Consistory for the election of a new pontiff. However, the Medician adherents in Florence attaining the ascendency, and an opponent of Savonarola's, a Franciscan who condemned his opposition to the pope, having challenged him to a Trial by fire in order to discountenance his assumption of Divine gifts of prophecy, he failed in the ordeal, and lost his hold on the Florentines. The Signory accused him of disturbing the public peace and the peace of the Church, and he was condemned to die. Having disobeyed the repeated commands of the pontiff to repair to Rome for a hearing, Rome now did not interfere, but conceded to the charges. **Fra Girolamo Savonarola had sounded the long-drawn and wailing blast of a fearless chal- 212 The Magnificent and the Monk. lenge to all the powers of wickedness. He had slipped and fallen in the shock of the first onset. But the notes of his trumpet-call reverberated through all Christendom, and through the cen- tury that was so soon to dawn upon the world, and woke many an echo which heartened other men and women besides S. Philip Neri and S. Catherine of Ricci for their own combat with evil. The Church was scourged after another manner than that which he had foreseen. The face of the Church has been renewed, though not so *soon and speedily' as he had imagined. In substance, however, more than one of Fra Girolamo's * conclusions' have been made good, even though his revelations have been for the most part disallowed. And, all his errors and their consequences notwithstanding, the Church and the world owe him a debt of gratitude. ' ' — From Herbert Lucas, S, J. ** Savonarola and His Times," by Pasquale Villari, is considered to be an * incomparable biography," and is very interestingly told, and a work of recent date is **Girolamo Savona- rola" by E. L. S. Horsburgh. **It were foul To grudge Savonarola and the rest Their violets ! rather pay them quick and fresh ! The emphasis of death makes manifest The eloquence of action in our flesh. And men who living were but dimly guessed, 213 Florence. When once free from their life's entangled mesh, Show their full length in graves. ' ' — Mrs, Browning. HYMN TO THE VIRGIN. BY GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA. Composed during a Plague in Florence. *^0 Star of Galilee, Shining o'er this earth's dark sea. Shed thy glorious light on me. Queen of Clemency and Love, Be my Advocate above, And through Christ all sin remove. When the angel called thee blest. And with transports filled thy breast, 'Twas thy Lord became thy guest. Earth's purest Creature thou. In the heavens exulting now, With a halo round thy brow. Beauty beams in every trace Of the Virgin-Mother's face. Full of glory and of grace. A Beacon to the just. To the sinner Hope and Trust, Joy of the angel-host. 214 The Magnificent and the Monk. Ever-glorified, thy throne Is where thy blessed Son Doth reign : through him alone, All pestilence shall cease. And sin and strife decrease, And the kingdom come of peace. * ' — Translated by R. R. Madden. 215 CHAPTER XII. THE ARTIST OF THE MAGNIFICENT AND THE ARTIST OF THE MONK. The influence on art of Lorenzo 's Renaissance studies is seen first and foremost and most pro- nouncedly in Botticelli, a pupil of Fra Lippo Lippi, who more than any other artist hereto- fore, portrays classic subjects ; his very famous Primavera, or Spring, now in the Accademia, being executed by special request of Lorenzo, as an illustration of one of his poems, and as a decoration for his villa at Castello. As the central figure or Primavera, we see Simonetta de Vespucci, who was another bril- liant star in the Platonic Academy and in the Medician firmament, being the wife of a near and dear friend of Lorenzo 's brother, Giuliano, who also is introduced in the picture as Apollo, the god of fruition. The picture is allegorical, and was readily understood by those imbued with the Renais- sance spirit. 217 Florence. FOR SPRING. . BY SANDRO BOTTICELLI. (In the Accademia of Florence.) **What masque of what old wind- withered New Year Honors this Lady? Flora, wanton-eyed For birth, and with all flowrets prankt and pied : Aurora, Zephyrus, with mutual cheer Of clasp and kiss : the Graces circling near, 'Neath bower-linked arch of white arms glori- fied; And with those feathered feet which hovering glide O'er Spring's brief bloom, Hermes the har- binger. Birth-bare, not death-bare yet, the young stems stand, This Lady's temple-columns; o'er her head Love wings his shaft. What mystery here is read Of homage or of hope? But how command Dead Springs to answer? And how question here These murmurs of that wind-withered New Year?" — Dante Gabriel Rossetti. Botticelli's Birth of Venus, in the Uffizi, por- trays Simonetta as the title figure. In fact, Botticelli owes his great ability to the inspi- 218 The Artist op the Magnificent. ration which the charms and beauty and love of Simonetta de Vespucci aroused in him. She was called ^^The Star of Genoa, " having been of that city when Marco de Vespucci met her and married her. All in Florence yielded to the spell of her charms and most of all did Guiliano de 'Medici, but never was there occasion to be- lieve that the ^^ Platonic'' atmosphere was once tainted by scandal due to Simonetta de Ves- pucci. She died of tuberculosis in 1476, two years before Giuliano de 'Medici himself met his death in the Pazzi Conspiracy, and as the evil in peo- ple 's minds was venting itself against her mem- ory, Botticelli, who loved her truly, painted his great picture. The Calumny of Apelles, as a vindication of her fair fame. Lucian tells that Apelles was accused by a rival artist of conspir- acy against the life of Ptolemy, and by a picture which he painted he showed forth his own inno- cence and punished his accuser. That picture also is an allegory, nor could it easily be understood without the description. The central figure is Innocence — a naked youth — dragged to Judgment by Calumny bearing in her hand the torch of discord, and accompanied by Malice and Deceit. Before the judge stands Envy, a ragged beggar, bearing false witness against Innocence, and in the ears of the Judge are whispering Ignorance and Suspicion. On the other side stands Truth, a nude female 219 Florence. figure, from whom turns away an old dark hag, Eemorse. The ^* Innocence" is Giuliano de 'Medici and the ** Truth" is Simonetta de Vespncci, for the last time portrayed by Botticelli, but not for the last time remembered by him, for at his death he requested that he be laid near her grave, in which place we find his remains — out- side the Vespucci Chapel in the Church of Og- nissanti. Of Botticelli's works, the Uffizi has a room, called The Hall of Botticelli. Among the many represented, besides the Calumny of Apelles, the Primavera, and the Birth of Venus, we no- tice his Fortitude and his Judith, which Ruskin comments upon in his ** Mornings in Florence" : '* Yes ; that is your common Fortitude. Very grand, though common. But not the highest, by any means. ** Ready for all comers, and a match for them — ^thinks the universal Fortitude ; — no thanks to her for standing so steady, then. **But Botticelli's Fortitude is no match, it may be, for any that are coming. Worn, some- what; and not a little weary, instead of stand- ing ready for all comers, she is sitting — appar- ently in reverie, her fingers playing restlessly and idly — nay, I think even nervously, about the hilt of her sword. **For her battle is not to begin today; nor 220 Fortitude Botticelli The Artist of the Magnificent. did it begin yesterday. Many a morn and eve have passed since it began — and now is this to be the ending day of it? And if this, by what manner of end! **That is what Sandro's Fortitude is think- ing. And the playing fingers about the sword hilt would fain let it fall, if it might be; and yet, how swiftly and gladly will they close on it, when the far-off trumpet blows, which she will hear through all her reverie. *^ There is yet another picture of Sandro's here, which you must look at before going back to Giotto: the small Judith in the room next the Tribune, as you return from this outer one. It is just under Leonardo's Medusa. She is returning to the camp of her Israel, followed by her maid carrying the head of Holof ernes. And she walks in one of Botticelli's light dancing actions, her drapery all on flutter, and her hand, like Fortitude's, light on the sword hilt, but daintily — ^not nervously — the little finger laid over the cross of it. **And at the first glance you will think the figure merely a piece of fifteenth century affec- tation. * Judith, indeed! say rather the daugh- ter of Herodias, at her mincingest. ' Well, yes ; Botticelli is affected, in the way that all men in that century necessarily were. Much euphuism, much studied grace of manner, much formal as- sertion of scholarship, mingling with his force of imagination. And he likes twisting the fin- 221 Florence. gers of the hands about, just as Correggio does. But he never does it like Correggio, without cause. ^*Look at Judith again — at her face, not her drapery — and remember that when a man is base at heart, he blights his virtues into weak- nesses ; but when he is true at heart, he sanc- tifies his weaknesses into virtues. It is a weak- ness of Botticelli's, this love of dancing motion and waved drapery; but why has he given it full flight herer' After advising us to look up the history of Judith, according to the chapters and verses he designated, Euskin continues: *'And you will feel, after you have read this piece of history, or epic poetry, with honor- able care, that there is somewhat more to be thought of and pictured in Judith, than paint- ers have mostly found it in them to show you; that she is not merely the Jewish Delilah to the Assyrian Samson; but the mightiest, pur- est, brightest type of high passion in severe womanhood offered to our human memory. Sandro's picture is but slight; but it is true to her, and the only one I know that is; and after writing out these verses [that is, the verses in the Bible which refer to her] you will see why he gives her that swift, peace- ful motion, while you read in her face only sweet solemnity of dreaming thought, *My peo- 222 Judith Botticelli The Artist of the Magnificent. pie delivered, and by my hand; and God has been gracious to His handmaid. ' The triumph of Miriam over a fallen host, the fire of exulting mortal life in an immortal hour, the purity and severity of a guardian angel — all are here ; and as her servant follows, carrying indeed the head, but invisible — (a mere thing to be car- ried — no more to be thought of) — she looks only at her mistress, with intense, servile, watchful love. Faithful, not in these days of fear only, but hitherto in all the days of her life, and afterwards forever. ' ' There is also in the same room Botticelli's lovely Virgin and Child, called the Magnificat, as it represents our Lady writing in a book the ** Magnificat," that hymn of joy and praise which had burst from her after her salutation by Elizabeth : **My soul doth magnify the Lord ; And my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior. Because he hath regarded the humility of his handmaid ; for behold. From henceforth all generations shall call me blessed. Because he that is mighty hath done great things to me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is from generation unto genera- tion, to them that fear him. He hath showed might in his arm : he hath scat- tered the proud in the conceit of their heart. 223 Florence. He hath put down the mighty from their seat, and hath exalted the humble. He hath filled the hungry with good things : and the rich he hath sent empty away. He hath received Israel his servant, being mind- ful of his mercy. As he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his seed forever. ^ ' — St, Luke. FOE THE MADONNA OF THE MAGNIFI- CAT, BY SANDEO BOTTICELLI. * * Circled with solemn angels see her there. Mother of God, with the Incarnate Word Throned in her virgin bosom, and adored Of earth and heaven ; and she, all unaware Of that bright crown the bending angels bear Above her weary head, with sweet accord Writing: *My soul doth magnify the Lord, And holy shall his name be everywhere. ' Behold how sad she is, and in her eyes Infinite sorrow, infinitely fair : Not her own mother 's grief it is that lies Upon her soul, a weary weight of care, Not pity of self, but the blind, yearning cry Of the world ^s hopeless, helpless misery." — Ralph Adams Cram, We see also Botticelli's Adoration of the Magi, painted for Maria Novello, for the Med- ici, as a setting for their family portraits, hav- 224 The Madonna of the Magnificat Botticelli The Adoration of the Magi Botticelli The Artist of the Magnificent. ing Cosimo II Vecchio, the Pater Patriae, as one of the central figures, kneeling before the Divine Infant, and other well-known Medici grouped around him. Simonetta, as the Blessed Mother, is familiar to us, and the artist himself is in the group — at the extreme right, looking our way. In the Accademia are the Venus with the Three Graces, and the Coronation of the Virgin, a lovely work. Pope Sixtus called Botticelli to Rome and appointed him master of the decorations of the Sistine Chapel, but he later returned to Flor- ence, where he, as well as Lippo Lippi, was a pensioner of the Medici in his old age. After Savonarola 's death, his warm adherent and follower, Fra Bartolommeo, was visited in San Marco by Raphael, who stimulated him anew with love for painting and exchanged with him a knowledge of perspective for sugges- tions in coloring, which the monk was able to give. The two became fast friends, each help- ing the other, on one occasion, in finishing his pictures. Bartolommeo owed the higher culti- vation of his art to the works of Leonardo da Vinci, and he, as well as Angelo and Leonardo, had prepared a sketch for the decoration of the Council Chamber of the Palazzo Vecchio, but his work, as was theirs, was left undone, though his outlines and sketches for it are preserved in the Uffizi — it was to have been the representa- tion of the Patron Saints of Florence. His first 225 Florence. work of any importance was a fresco, The Last Judgment, in Maria Novella, which was com- pleted by Albertinelli. You see, we cannot mention Bartolommeo without at the same time speaking of his boy- hood friend and almost inseparable companion, Albertinelli, who studied with him under the same early master, who later worked in the same hottega when they set out for themselves, and who would fain have followed him into the religious life, had he been so called. In the Certosa or Carthusian Monastery of Florence is a Crucifixion by Albertinelli, and his Visitation in the Uffizi is a much copied work, and the circular Holy Family in the Pitti recalls Leonardo in coloring. Albertinelli was not so well grounded in drawing as was Bartolommeo, but he set to work to copy his friend's manner, and suc- ceeded so well that when called upon to finish works left undone by him, his part of the work could not be distinguished from that of the other. Most of Bartolommeo 's paintings, besides those decorating the walls of San Marco, are in the Pitti Gallery, where is his Eesurrection of our Lord, called Salvator Mundi, and also his greatest work done in conjunction with Alberti- nelli, * * The Marriage of St. Catherine, ' ' attrib- uted in the following poem to Albertinelli : 226 The Marriage of St. Catherine Bartolommeo The Artist of the Monk. ON A FLORENTINE PICTURE BY ALBER- TINELLI. **This pictured work, with ancient graces fraught, Or so they say, Albertinelli wrought. He who that touching piece achieved, where meet The sisters twain, in Visitation sweet ; Of which the Tuscan city, 'mid her crowd Of miracles, e 'en yet is justly proud. Oh, matchless line of years, whose generous strife Reared the reviving arts to perfect life: Then, Petrarch's native lay refined on love; Then, Angelo the impetuous chisel drove; Then, oracles that stirred young EaphaePs breast Spoke forth in colors, clear as words exprest. Thou too, the pencil's scarce less gifted seer, Fair is the dream thy hand interprets here : How sweet yon Infant Christ's down-beaming smile On bright Saint John, who lifts his own the while : That bliss of young maternity how sweet, Where mildly mingling. Saint and Mother meet : Nay, more than mother's rapture, to behold Her Savior-son, by prophet bards foretold. 227 Florence. Or if adoring meekness e'er had shrine In human face, fond Kathrine, 'tis in thine : In that one present joy of all possest, Heedless of future, and by past unprest. But hers, who stands anear that elder boy, Margaret's, I ween, is no untroubled joy; In her, methinks, the painter's hand hath sought Meanings to plant of more than common thought — A look, as if that calm, yet clouded eye Had glimpses of futurity ; And 'mid the glories of each final doom. Foresaw, not less, the sorrows first to come.'' — John Kenyon, Albertinelli 's Visitation is described by Mrs. Jameson : ^ * The first is the simple majestic composition of Albertinelli. (Florence Gal.) The two women, standing alone under a richly sculptured arch, and relieved against the bright azure sky, embrace each other. There are no accessories. Mary is attired in dark blue drap- ery, and Elizabeth wears an ample robe of a saffron or other amber color. The mingled grandeur, power and grace, and depth of expression in these two figures, are quite extraordinary; they look like what they are, and worthy to be the mothers of the great- est of kings and greatest of prophets. Albertinelli has here emulated his friend Bar- tolommeo — his friend, whom he so loved, that when, after the horrible execution of Savona- 228 The Artist of the Monk. rola, Bartolommeo, broken-hearted, threw him- self into the convent of St. Mark, Albertinelli became almost distracted and desperate. He would certainly, says Vasari, have gone into the same convent, but for the hatred he bore the monks, * of whom he was always saying the most injurious things. ' Through some hidden influence of intense sympathy, Albertinelli, though in point of char- acter the very antipodes of his friend, often painted so like him, that his pictures — and this noble picture more particularly — ^might be mis- taken for the work of the f rate. ' ' THE VISITATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN MARY. And Blessed Mary rose and went her way To Judah, 'mid whose verdant hills there lay The home of Zaccharias, there to greet With reverent salutation, and repeat To Saint Elizabeth her secret strange and sweet. Her simple salutation scarce was spoke, When from the aged woman's lips there broke A burst of blessing : * ^ Can it surely be The mother of my Lord should come to me ? The very babe beneath my heart doth welcome thee!'' And Mary's answer was that rapturous song Whose holy echoes our faint lips prolong — * * Magnificat ! ' ' My Lord and Savior sweet, In Blessed Mary I Thy presence greet. —''Guild of the Holy Ghost/' 229 CHAPTER XIII. IN A BLAZE OF GLORY. LEONARDO DA VINCI, RAPHAEL, AND ANDREA DEL SARTO. Basking in the glory of the Medician splendor were Leonardo da Vinci, the sometime rival of Michael Angelo, as was Raphael in a later day — ^and Andrea del Sarto. Leonardo da Vinci was born at Vinci, a small town not far from Florence, in 1452, and his father, Ser Piero Antonio of Vinci, was the notary of the Signoria of Florence. When very yonng Leonardo displayed great gifts of mind and body, and was placed under the care of Verrocchio, in whose studio he had as a fellow student, Perugino, and when only twenty-one years of age, he took his place in the Guild of Artists at Florence. In his later years he entered into that well- known contest with Michael Angelo for the decoration of the Council Hall of the Palazzo Vecchio which Savonarola had ordered for af- fairs of state during his dominion of Florence ; Michael Angelo 's subject being an incident in the War with Pisa, ** Soldiers Surprised While 231 Florence. Bathing in the Arno, ' ' of which we have already spoken. Leonardo's subject was The Battle of Anghi- ari of 1440, when Milan was vanquished by- Florence, and after spending a few years upon the work it was abandoned, and his cartoon was also lost or destroyed. About this time, 1504, he finished his celebrated Mona Lisa, the por- trait of the third wife of Zanobi de Giaconda, which Francis I of France purchased for 4,000 gold florins, and which has so recently been stolen from the Louvre, where it was one of the most precious treasures. LEONARDO'S MONA LISA. **Make thyself known, Sibyl, or let despair Of knowing thee be absolute ; I wait Hour-long and waste a soul. What word of fate Hides 'twixt the lips that smile and still for- bear? Secret perfection ! Mystery too fair ! Tangle the sense no more, lest I should hate The delicate tyranny, the inviolate Poise of thy folded hands, the fallen hair. Nay, nay, — I wrong thee with rough words; still be Serene, victorious, inaccessible ; Still smile but speak not ; lightest irony Lurk ever 'neath thy eyelids ' shadow ; still 'ertop our knowledge ; Sphinx of Italy, Allure us and reject us at thy will ! ' ' — Edward Dowden, 232 Moiiii I Asa Da Vinci Leonardo da Vinci. MONA LISA. * * She gave me all a woman can, Nor her soul's nunnery forego, A confidence that man to man Without remorse can never show. Eare art, that can the sense refine Till not a pulse rebellious stirs, And, since she never can be mine. Makes it seem sweeter to be hers ! ' ' — James Russell Lowell. ON THE MEDUSA OF LEONARDO DA VINCI, IN THE FLORENTINE GALLERY. **It lieth, gazing on the midnight sky. Upon the cloudy mountain peak supine ; Below, far lands are seen tremblingly ; Its horror and its beauty are divine. Upon its lips and eyelids seems to lie Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine, Fiery and lurid, struggling underneath, The agonies of anguish and of death. Yet it is less horror than the grace Which turns the gazer's spirit into stone. Whereon the lineaments of that dead face Are graven, till the characters be grown Into itself, and thought no more can trace ; 'Tis the melodious hue of beauty thrown Athwart the darkness and the glare of pain, Which humanize and harmonize the strain. 233 Florence. And from its head as from one body grow, As grass out of a watery rock, Hairs which are vipers, and they curl and flow And their long tangles in each other lock And with unending involutions show Their mailed radiance, as it were to mock The torture and the death within, and saw The solid air with many a ragged jaw; And, from the stone beside, a poisonous eft Peeps idly into those Gorgonian eyes ; Whilst in the air a ghastly bat, bereft Of sense, has flitted with a mad surprise. Out of the cave this hideous light has cleft, And he comes hastening like a moth that hies After a taper ; and, the midnight sky Flares, a light more dread than obscurity. 'Tis the tempestuous loveliness of terror ; For from the serpents gleams a brazen glare Kindled by that inextricable error Which makes a thrilling vapor of the air Become a and ever-shifting mirror Of all the beauty and the terror there — A woman's countenance, with serpent locks. Gazing in death on heaven from those wet ^^^^^- ' ' — Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Pitti Gallery is rich in Leonardo's pic- tures, and most of the great galleries of Europe contain at least one of his works. In fact, as in the case of Michael Angelo, and later of Ea- 234 Leonardo da Vinci. phael, his Florentine period is only an incident in Ms larger, fuller life lived in many countries, and to confine ourselves to that period only may not display a proper perspective. At Milan, where there is a large monument erected to him, he founded a new school of painting, where one of his disciples was Luini, and he left on the walls of the refectory of Santa Maria delle Grazie, '^The Last Supper," one of the masterpieces of the world. We think of him generally as a painter, but he was a sculptor, an architect and an engineer as well, having been employed when only twenty-eight years of age as an engineer to the Sultan of Cairo, and visiting and working in the far East. His anatomical drawings are treasured by the medical world and are now in Windsor Castle, England. He left the manuscript of a volume, **Trat- tato della Pittura,'' dealing with all phases of the painters ' art, which has been published and translated into many languages. His last days were spent in the service of France, where he died in 1519, in the seventy- fifth year of his age. EAPHAEL. * * Out of all the hundred fair Madonnas Seen in many a rich and distant city — Sweet Madonnas, with the mother's bosoms, Sad Madonnas, with the eyes of anguish ; 235 Florence. Eapt Madonnas, caught in clouds of heaven (Clouds of golden, glad, adoring angels) She of Florence in *^the Chair'' so perfect ; She that was the ** Grand Duke's" wealth and glory. She that makes the picture of ^^The Goldfinch" ; Ghirlandajo's with the cloak and jewels ; Guido's Queen, whom men and angels worship; Delia Eobbia 's best ; and that sweet * ' Perla, ' ' Seville 's bright boast, Mary of Murillo (Painted, so they vow, with milk and roses) ; Guido Eeni 's ' ^ Quadro ' ' at Bologna ; Munich 's masterpiece ; grim Durer 's goddess ; Yes, and thy brave work, Beltraffio mio — Many as the lessons are I owe them. Thanks and wonder, worship, grateful mem- ories, Oftenest I shall think of Perugino's. — Sir Edwin Arnold. Eaphael was a pupil of Perugino at Perugia, and early in his career he copied his master's manner exclusively, adding over and beyond the work, a coloring and grace emphatically his own. With his master he came to Florence at the time of the great Leonardo de Vinci- Michael Angelo contest for the decoration of the Palazzo Vecchio, as did other great artists from far and near, and he remained in Florence for a while, gathering in new and broader ideals for his work, which showed the influence of Leo- nardo, and also of Bartolommeo of San Marco. 236 Madonna Granduca Pittl Gallery Raphael i ■ aiHfe -^■1^ f ^W i.T 1 ^/s^L^j^ li^P r » ^■i^ M ^'4 If i ^ -1 mM M' ffs ^^^ . . .^ ^ ^v BKK^^ yfl *^ ,. ! 1 1 ^ 1 St' Madonna of the Goldfinch (Madonna del Cardellino) Raphael Madonna of the Ohair Haphael Raphael. * * Forth from Urbino 's gate there came A youth with the angelic name Of Raphael ; in form and face Himself angelic, and divine In arts of color and design." — Longfellow. He left in the galleries many of his famous Madonnas, among which are the Granduco, be- cause the grand duke owned it, and carried it with him whithersoever he went, giving it the sobriquent of ^Hhe wanderer''; the Cardellino, or Madonna of the finch, from the finch in the child's hand — the finch in art typifying sacri- fice; and the della Sedia, or Madonna of the Chair. * * Is it in grace maternal she excels Only, or sumptuous womanhood mature, This lady of sultana-like coiffure? Nay, her dark eyes are thought's divinest wells ; Nay, on her lips the lilies' perfume dwells, The seal of the angel : doth it not endure Immortally here, impressed on none less pure Than, in her arms, the Child-Emmanuel's? See, not less tender, less to be adored. This other Mary : child-eyes wonder- wide At her Maternity, the mystic Bride, And Mother, and meek Handmaid of the Lord. Murillo's Peasant Girl is strangely fair By this superb Madonna of the Chair. ' ' —The Catholic World. 237 Florence. ** First bring me Eaphael, who alone hath seen In all her purity, heaven's virgin queen, Alone hath felt true beauty. ' ' — Walter Savage Landor, * ' Silent we stood, in deepest awe, "Where Eaphael 's hand has set forever The whirlwind Israel's prophet saw In vision by the captives ' river : Silent, where sits in loveliest guise The wistful Virgin Mother, leaning To watch her wondrous Infant's eyes, Enkindled with divinest meaning. ' ' — The Earl of Crewe. **Fain would I EaphaePs godlike art rehearse, And show the immortal labors in my verse. Where from the mingled strength of shade and light A new creation rises to my sight ; Such heavenly figures from his pencil flow. So warm with life his blended colors glow. ' ' — Joseph Addison. Of his portrait in the Uffizi, painted by him- self, Eogers says : ^ * His heavenly face a mirror of his mind. His mind a temple for all lovely things To flock to and inhabit. ' ' 238 St. John in the Desert Raphael Raphael. **Eare Eaphael, Urbino's lovely child! Whose golden locks encluster brows so mild, — What visions dost thou see, angel-wise, That fill with radiance thy glorious eyes? Dost thou the secrets of the stars divine. Hear heav'nly strains for which our spirits pine? Lift from our eyes the veil, that we may see The glorious visions of eternity ! Kind Heaven has only lent us thee awhile, — Its songs of love still linger in thy smile. With art's most heavenly power thou dost por- tray Life's lesson, Love ! Love in its purest way, Enduring mother-love, which unconfined. Will teach us, Christ-like, how to love mankind. — Florence Holbrook. BEFORE THE PICTURE OF THE BAPTIST, BY RAPHAEL, IN THE GALLERY AT FLORENCE. ^*The Baptist might have been ordained to cry Forth from the towers of that huge Pile, wherein His Father served Jehovah ; but how win Due audience, how for aught but scorn defy The obstinate pride and wanton revelry 239 Florence. Of the Jerusalem below, her sin And folly, if they with united din Drown not at once mandate and prophecy? Therefore the Voice spake from the desert, thence To Her, as to her opposite in peace. Silence, and holiness, and innocence. To Her, and to all Lands its warning sent, Crying with earnestness that might not cease, *Make straight a highway for the Lord — repent.' '^ — William Wordsworth. INCOGNITA OF RAPHAEL. * * Long has the summer sunlight shone On the fair form, the quaint costume ; Yet, nameless still, she sits, unknown, A lady in her youthful bloom. Fairer for this ! No shadows cast Their blight upon her perfect lot, Whate 'er her future or her past In this bright monument matters not. No record of her high descent There needs, nor memory of her name ; Enough that Raphael 's colors blent To give her features deathless fame ! 'Twas his anointing hand that set The crown of beauty on her brow ; Still lives its early radiance yet, As at the earliest, even now. 240 Velata, or Incognita Raphael Raphael. 'Tis not the ecstasy that glows In all the rapt Cecilia 's grace ; Nor yet the holy calm repose He painted on the Virgin 's face. Less of the heavens, and more of earth, There lurk within these earnest eyes, The passions that have had their birth And grown beneath Italian skies. What mortal thoughts, and cares, and dreams, What hopes and fears and longing rest Where falls the folded veil, or gleams The golden necklace on her breast ! What mockery of the painted glow May shade the secret soul within ; What griefs from passion *s overflow. What shame that follows after sin ! Yet calm as heaven's serenest deeps Are those pure eyes, those glances pure ; And queenly is the state she keeps. In beauty's lofty trust secure. And who has strayed, by happy chance. Through all those grand and pictured halls, Nor felt the magic of her glance. As when a voice of music calls ? Not soon shall I forget the day, — Sweet day, in spring's unclouded time, — While on the glowing canvas lay The light of that delicious clime, — 241 Florence. I marked the matchless colors wreathed On the fair brow, the peerless cheek ; The lips, I fancied, almost breathed The blessing that they could not speak. Fair were the eyes with mine that bent Upon the picture their mild gaze, And dear the voice that gave consent To all the utterance of my praise. fit companionship of thought; happy memories, shrined apart ; The rapture that the painter wrought, The kindred rapture of the heart. — William Allen Butler. *^ Raphael made a century of sonnets, Made and wrote them in a certain volume Dinted with the silver-pointed pencil Else he only used to draw Madonnas : These, the world might view — but one, the vol- ume. Who that one, you ask? your heart instructs you. Did she live and love it all her lifetime ? Did she droop, his lady of the sonnets. Die, and let it drop beside her pillow Where it lay in place of Raphael's glory, Raphael 's cheek so duteous and so loving — Cheek, the world was wont to hail a painter 's, Raphael's cheek, her love had turned a poet's? 242 Raphael. You and I would rather read that volume, (Taken to his beating bosom by it) Lean and list the bosom — beats of Eaphael, Would we not? than wonder at Madonnas — Her, San Sisto named, and her, Foligno, Her, that visits Florence in a vision, Her, that's left with lilies in the Louvre — Seen by us and all the world in circle. '* — Robert Browning, RAPHAEL. **I shall not soon forget that sight: The glow of autumn's westering day, A hazy warmth, a dreamy light. On Raphael's picture lay. It was a simple print I saw. The fair face of a musing boy ; Yet, while I gazed, a sense of awe Seemed blending with my joy. A simple print : — the graceful flow Of boyhood 's soft and wavy hair. And fresh young lip and cheek, and brow Unmarked and clear, were there. Yet through its sweet and calm repose I saw the inward spirit shine ; It was as if before me rose The white veil of a shrine. 243 Florence. As if, as Gothland's sage has told, The hidden life, the man within. Discovered from its frame and mould, By mortal eye were seen. Was it the lifting of that eye. The waving of that pictured hand? Loose as a cloud- wreath on the sky, I saw the walls expand ! The narrow room had vanished, — space, Broad, luminous, remained alone, Through which all hues and shapes of grace And beauty looked or shone. Around the mighty master came The marvels which his pencil wrought. Those miracles of power whose fame Is wide as human thought. There drooped thy more than mortal face, mother, beautiful and mild, Enfolding in one dear embrace Thy Savior and thy child ! The rapt brow of the Desert John ; The awful glory of that day "When all the Father's brightness shone Through manhood's veil of clay. And, midst gray prophet forms, and wild, Dark visions of the days of old, How sweetly woman 's beauty smiled Through locks of brown and gold I 244 Raphael Painting the Madonna Wittmer Illustrating how Raphael, in lieu of the proper materials, drew the lovely peasant and her child whom he met accidently, on the end of a wine cask. The work is now known as The Madonna of the Chair. Raphael. There Fornarina's fair young face Once more upon her lover shone, Whose model of an angel 's grace He borrowed from her own. Slow passed that vision from my view, But not the lesson which it taught ; The soft, calm shadows which it threw Still rested on my thought : The truth, that painter, bard, and sage, E 'en in earth 's cold and changeful clime, Plant for their deathless heritage The fruits and flowers of time. We shape ourselves the joy or fear Of which the coming life is made. And fill our future's atmosphere With sunshine or with shade. The tissue of the Life to be We weave with colors all our own. And in the field of Destiny We reap as we have sown. Still shall the soul around it call The shadows which it gathered here, And, painted on the eternal wall. The Past shall reappear. Think ye the notes of holy song On Milton's tuneful ear have died? Think ye that Eaphael's angel throng Has vanished from his side ? 245 Florence. O no ! We live our life again ; Or warmly touched, or coldly dim, The pictures of the Past remain, — Man's work shall follow him!'* — John Greenleaf Whittier. There is also a palace in Florence, the result of Raphael's architectural labor, the Palazza Pandolfini, but in Rome remain the monuments of his genius, the Stanza and Loggia of the Vatican, and there did he die at the early age of thirty-seven. RAPHAEL'S DEATHBED. Raphael speaks: **What; Leo's self has sent To ask of Raphael? Kindly done; and yet The Iron Pontiff, whom I painted thrice. Had come. No matter: these are gracious words, *Rome were not Rome without me.' My best thanks Back to his Holiness; and dare I add A message, 'twere that Rome can never be Without me. I shall live as long as Rome. Bramarte 's temple there, bequeathed to me To hide her cross — crowned bosom in the clouds — San Pietro, travertine and marble-massed To more than mountain majesty — shall scarce 246 Death of Raphael Morgari Raphael. Outlast that bit of canvas. Let the light in. There's the Ritonda waiting patiently My coming. Angelo has built his chape In Santa Croce, that his eyes may ope On San Filippo 's Duomo. I would see — What think you! — Neither Dome, nor Giotto's shaft, Nor yon stern Pantheon's solemn sullen grace, But her, whose colors I have worn, since first I dreamed of beauty in the chestnut shades Of Umbria — her, for whom my best of life Has been one labor — her, the Nazareth-Maid, Who gave to Heaven a Queen, to man a God, To God a Mother. I have hope of it: And I would see her — not as when she props The Babe slow tottering to the Cross amid The flowering field ; nor yet when Sibyl-eyed, Backward she sweeps her Son from Tobit's Fish; Nor e 'en as when above the footstool-angels, She stands with trembling mouth, dilated eyes, Abashed before the uncurtained Father's throne — But see her wearing the wrapt smile of love Half human, half divine, as fast she strains Her Infant in the Chair. ' ' — George H. Miles, *^ Raphael is not dead. He doth but sleep ; For how can he be dead Who lives immortal in the hearts of men." — Longfellow. 247 Florence. * * Steeped in the glow and glory of old Rome — So old, so young, in life, and death, and art — His pictures shine, so near to Truth's great heart. That through the ages. Truth has in her home, The brightest stars in her celestial dome. Kept them alive ; and will, till time is done. Fill them with stronger light than fire or sun. Great Prince of Painters! laurel wreathes his name; The world may babble, — she 's an ancient dame, And say his life and art held much of clay. Reproaching him; yet saints fell on their way. If sin repented be a blot on fame, His fame is f ameless, though he reached fame 's goal. And left us glory shining from his soul. — Maurice Francis Egan. 248 '^. ANDEEA DEL SAETO. Andrew VannuccM, the son of a tailor, and hence called Andrea del Sarto, was another art- ist of this period. He was born in Florence in 1487, and died there in 1531. He gained much of his skill in copying and studying Leonardo and Angelo, but though he was called **The Faultless Painter, '^ he lacked the great spirit- ual insight and imagination of his illustrious predecessors. His frescoes in Florence are to be found in the Servite Church of the Annunciation, one picture, the Madonna del Saco, being especially famous. It is so-called from the grain sack against which St. Joseph leans. The Church of the Recollects also contains his frescoes, and in the suburbs of Florence, in the former Val- lombrosan convent of San Salvi, his cenacolo or fresco of the Last Supper, is said to rank only second to that of Da Vinci in Milan. His Annunciation in the Pitti Gallery may thus be described by Bayard Taylor: ** Madonna's girlish form, arrested there With poising foot, and parted lips, and eyes With innocent wonder bright, and glad surprise, And hands half -clasped in rapture or in prayer, Met the Announcing Angel. On her sight He burst in splendor from the sunny air. Making it dim around his perfect light. And in his hand the lily-stem he bare. ' ' 249 Florence. D'el Sarto 's St. John the Baptist, in the same gallery, is also described by Mr. Taylor : * * The God-selected child, there should he stand, Alone and rapt, as from the world withdrawn To seek, amid the desolate land. His Father's counsel: in one tender hand A cross of reed, to lightly rest upon. The other hand a Scrolled phylactery Should, hanging, hold, — as it the seed might be Wherefrom the living Gospel shall expand.'* One of Andrea 's finest easel pictures is in the Uffizi, The Madonna with the Harpies, so called because of the harpies on the pedestal, in which he placed his own portrait as St. John, and his wife's as the Blessed Lady, of course. He was so enamoured of his wife, who was of inferior char- acter, however, that he could never paint a pic- ture without having in it her portrait, and when Francis I of France invited him to Paris to work for him, his wife Lucrezia, for a mere whim, wrote him to return to Florence, and when he did so, caused him to squander the money the king gave for his return to complete his contract, to the king's great disgust. That was one instance only of the detriment she was to his artistic advancement and to his art, forcing him to rush through his work, for the money in it which she craved. Eobert Browning, through the mouth of An- drea del Sarto, speaking to his wife, in a poem of the same name, says : 250 St. John The Baptist Plttl Gallery And7-ea del Sai'to Andrea del Sarto. **Ah, but a man^s reach should exceed his grasp, Or what's a heaven for? All is silver-gray Placid and perfect with my art : the worse ! ***** Yonder 's a work now, of that famous youth The Urbinate who died five years ago. ('Tis copied, George Vasari sent it me.) Well, I can fancy how he did it all. Pouring his soul, with kings and popes to see, Eeaching, that heaven might so replenish him, Above and through his art — for it gives way : That arm is wrongly put — and there again — A fault to pardon in the drawing's lines. Its body, so to speak : its soul is right. He means right — that, a child may understand. Still, what an arm ! and I could alter it ! But all the play, the insight and the stretch — Out of me, out of me! And wherefore out? Had you enjoined them on me, given me soul, We might have risen to Raphael, I and you ! ***** Had the mouth there urged God and the glory! never care for gain — The present by the future what is that? Live for fame, side by side with Angelo ! Raphael is waiting ! up to God, all three ! I might have done it for you. So it seems. ***** What would one have? In heaven, perhaps, new chances, one more chance, 251 Florence. Four great walls in the New Jerusalem, Meted on each side by the angePs reed, For Leonard, Rafael, Angelo and me To cover — the first three without a wife, While I have mine ! So — still they overcome Because there ^s still Lucrezia, — as I choose.'' As a copyist Andrea del Sarto fully demon- strated his title to Faultless, for one picture, now in the Pitti Gallery, he copied so perfectly, as to deceive the artist whose work it partly was. Raphael had painted a portrait of Leo X which was hung in the Medici palace in Flor- ence, and when the Duke of Mantua, on his way to Rome to visit the succeeding Medician pope, Clement VII, saw the portrait, he desired greatly to possess it, and asked the pope for it. Clement, who, as Cardinal Giulio de 'Medici is represented in the group, granted him the pic- ture and wrote to the Medici in Florence to pack it and ship it on to Mantua. They were loth to part with it, yet unwilling to disobey the pope, so laid before Andrea del Sarto their dilemma. He immediately set to work secretly to copy the portrait, which was done so as to deceive Giulio Romano, a pupil of Raphael's who had helped him in the work, and also to deceive the Duke of Mantua who re- ceived it as the work of Raphael. Fortunately, when informed of the deception, he was not dis- pleased, but exclaimed that he prized it no less, 252 Madonna of the Harpy Ufflzi Gallery Andrea del Sarto ^^1 Andrea del Sarto. for as a work of art, it certainly was of a supe- rior order, in itself and in its power of deceiv- ing. That copy of Leo X is now in the National Museum at Naples. CHRONOLOGICAL "RESUME OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY. Luca della Robbia 1400-1482 Masaccio 1402-1429 Filippo Lippi 1412-1469 Riccardi Palace built 1430 Amerigo Vespucci 1431-1519 Mino da Fiesole 1431-1484 Andrea del Verocchio 1435-1488 San Marco built by Michelozzo 1436 Pitti palace built by Brunelleschi 1440 Perugino 1446-1523 Botticelli 1447-1510 Lorenzo de' Medici, the Magnificent. .1448-1492 Ghirlandajo 1449-1492 Leonardo da Vinci 1452-1519 Savonarola 1452-1498 Filippino Lippi 1460-1504 Death of Cosimo de' Medici, the Pater Patriae 1464 Lorenzo de' Medici the ruler in Flor- ence 1469 Machiavelli 1469-1527 Fra Bartolommeo 1469-1517 253 Florence. Pietro, successor of Lorenzo the Mag- nificent 1471-1503 Michael Angelo 1474-1564 Albertinelli 1474-1515 The Pazzi Conspiracy and death of Giuliano dei Medici 1478 Raphael 1483-1520 Andrea del Sarto 1488-1530 Strozzi palace built by Majano 1489 Death of Lorenzo, the Magnificent . . . 1492 Medici expelled 1493 Republic proclaimed 1493 Death of Savonarola 1498 254 CHAPTER XIV. THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY IN FLORENCE. ERE YET THE SHADOWS FALL. Benvenuto Cellini: '^1 have cast in bronze A statue of Perseus, holding thus aloft In his left hand the head of the Medusa, And in his right, the sword that severed it ; His right foot planted on the lifeless corse; His face superb and pitiful, with eyes Down-looking on the victim of his vengeance. ' ' Michael Angela: *^I see it as it should be.'' Benvenuto: ^'As it will be When it is placed upon the Ducal Square Half-way between your David and the Judith of Donatello." — Longfellow. Cellini's Perseus, now in the Loggia dei Lanzi, is the one great work in sculpture of his lifetime. 255 Florence. * * In the Loggia, where is set Cellini ^s godlike Perseus, bronze or gold, (How name the metal, when the statue flings Its soul so in your eyes?) with brow and sword Supremely calm, as all opposing things, Slain with the Gorgon, were no more abhorred Since ended.'' — Mrs. Browning. Cellini was a clever goldsmith, and his work was much sought after by prelates and nobles of Rome as well as by the rulers of the neigh- boring countries; a spicebox in particular, which he made for Francis I, being famous for its exquisite workmanship. He was born in Florence in 1500, but he was at an early age compelled to leave the city on account of his too great freedom in the use of his sword, a tendency which he exhibited whith- ersoever he went, but which was tolerated by his patrons on account of the excellence of his work. After many years spent abroad, he returned to Florence, where he executed the Perseus by order of the Grand Duke, Cosimo I; that sub- ject being chosen to typify the violent end of the Republic, and it was a task doubtless con- genial to Cellini, who idealized in the work his own characteristics. He carved elaborately the base, or pedestal, with scenes from the hero's life, and he carved also at the back of Perseus ' 256 Perseus Cellini The Sixteenth Century in Florence. head his own portrait, which was overlooked, or undiscovered until quite recently. Besides holding high rank as a goldsmith and as a sculptor, Cellini was one of the great writ- ers of his age, his Autobiography being one of the world works, brilliantly written and splen- did as a mirror which he held up to the nature of his time, but most of all to the nature of Ben- venuto Cellini, the bravado and immoral brag- gart — for he ever holds the center of the stage, and pope, emperor and others are quoted only to his own aggrandizement. We might liken his autobiography to Perseus ' shield, which though bright, still reflected the Gorgon's head. ^^The world is a mirror into which we look, and see our own image. ' ' — John Lancaster Spalding. Another biographer, the Boswell of his time, and also a protege of Cosimo I, was Giorgio Vasari, a pupil and friend of Michael Angelo, whose tomb in Santa Croce he sculptured; but Vasari is now remembered and enjoyed for his book, *^The Lives of the Most Eminent Paint- ers, Sculptors and Architects, ' ' which is a ver- itable mine of criticism and information, and to whose pages most writers on art refer. **We are told by Vasari," or ^*As Vasari says,'' will generally be found in every article 257 Florence. on art, and though there are many inaccuracies in his work, his style is quaint and charming. He was the favorite artist and architect of Cosimo, for whose residence he altered the Palazzo Vecchio, and decorated it with histor- ical frescoes. He also built the Uffizi Palace for municipal offices, and connected it with the Pitti Palace by a long covered passageway over the Ponte Vecchio. His portrait of Allesandro dei Medici is in the Uffizi Gallery. Allesandro was the prede- cessor, as Duke of Florence, of Cosimo I, and was the brother of Catherine dei Medici, the Queen of France, and the son of the Duke of TJrbino — Lorenzo, whose monument by Michael Angelo is in San Lorenzo. Allesandro was a despicable ruler and was murdered by another Medici. Was it at this time that the following invoca- tion was written by Bernardo Giambullari? ON BEHALF OF THE CITY OF FLORENCE. **Hail, Full of grace, alway; Mary, thy goodness show; Have pity, and to Christ for pity go, For this fair city to such woe a prey, Mary, in mercy spare ; Ah, turn thy pitying eyes on us below ; Look on thy city fair. That ne'er was yet so agonized in woe; 258 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. Have pity, and to Christ in pity go, That He may peace restore: Have mercy, I implore, On this fair city to such woe a prey. Mercy and peace serene, Mary, thy Florence doth entreat of thee; Ah, from rebellion wean The afflicted people by thy clemency ; No fiercer plague can be Than discord wild : Ah, pity, Mary mild. On this fair city to such woe a prey. For charity is dead. Faith quenched, and justice banished hence to fly; Pride is our rule instead; In luxury and envy each doth vie. Mary, for help we cry. By innocence besought Ah, take a pitying thought Of this fair city to such woe a prey. For save thy mercy be Our shield, sweet Mary, from all peril sore. No other shield have we ; Then in thy pity, from thy Son implore Of aid and counsel store. Wherein our safety lies : Ah, be thy goodness touched in tender wise By this fair city to such woe a prey. ' ' — Translated hy E. M, Gierke. 259 Florence. However, speaking of Cosimo, as we have said, he married Eleanor of Toledo, to whose Spanish suite of attendants he assigned a chapel in Santa Maria Novella Church, since then known as the Spanish Chapel, and famous for many reasons. It had been built in 1340, in honor of Corpus Christi, a feast day but a short time before instituted in the Church. The statue of Cosimo I stands in the Piazza Signoria, near the Palazzo Yecchio. It is the work of John of Bologna and at its base it has three bronze bas-reliefs representing Cosimo 's feats of glory: his entrance into Siena which he had conquered ; his acceptance of the title of Grand Duke of Tuscany — the first of the Medici to be so honored — and his investiture of that title by the pope. ** Among the awful forms, in elder time Assembled, and through many an after-age Destined to stand as Genii of the Place Where men most meet in Florence, may be seen His who first played the tyrant. Clad in mail, Aloft he sits upon his horse of brass ; And they that read the legend underneath Go and pronounce him happy. Two of the sons, Giovanni and Garzia, (The eldest had not seen his nineteenth sum- mer) Went to the chase, but only one returned. 260 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. Giovanni, when the huntsman blew his horn, O'er the last stag that started from the brake, And in the heather turned to stand at bay. Appeared not ; and at close of day was found Bathed in his innocent blood. Too well, alas. The trembling Cosimo guessed the deed and the doer. And having caused the body to be borne In secret to the chamber — at an hour "When all slept sound, save her who bore them both. Who little thought of what was yet to come. And lived but to be told — he bade Garzia Arise and follow him. Holding in one hand A winking lamp, and in the other a key Massive and dongeon-like, thither he led. And having entered in and locked the door. The father fixed his eyes upon the son. And closely questioned him. No change be- trayed Or quest or fear. Then Cosimo lifted up The bloody sheet. * Look there ! Look there, ' he cried, * Blood calls for blood, and from a father's hand Unless thyself wilt save him that sad office.' " — Rogers. Cosimo then slew his son. There were more killings in Cosimo 's family ; his daughter Isabella having been too giddy, or too loving in the wrong direction, was executed 261 Florence. by her husband, and Cosimo's brother's wife, Eleanora, also was executed — but O dear, dear, there is no poetry for it. Another murder, or shall we call it execution? charged to the Grand Duke was that of the Strozzi, a son of the wealthy family for whom the famous palace of that name was built in 1489. One member of the family has been beati- fied, and the son had married a daughter of the Medici, but, conspiring against her family, he was imprisoned, and his death was attributed to Cosimo. We shall see Strozzi Chapel in Santa Maria Novella Church, with the walls decorated by Filippino Lippi; and also the family tomb erected by Majano, who had also built their pal- ace, and who carved beautifully the roof of the Council Chamber of the Palazzo Vecchio. The son of Cosimo, Ferdinand I, also a Grand Duke of Tuscany, has a statue by John of Bologna, in the Piazza Annunziata. This statue inspired Robert Browning's poem, THE STATUE AND THE BUST. i i There 's a palace in Florence, the world knows well. And a statue watches it from the square. And this story of both do the townsmen telL Ages ago, a lady there. At the furthest window facing the east. Asked, *Who rides by with the royal air?' 262 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. The bridesmaids ' prattle around her ceased : She leaned forth, one on either hand ; They saw how the blush of the bride increased, They felt its beats her heart expand. As one at each ear, and both in a breath. Whispered, *The Great Duke Ferdinand.' That selfsame instant, underneath. The Duke rode past in his idle way, Empty and fine like a swordless sheath. Gayly he rode, with a friend as gay. Till he threw his head back, *Who is sheT *A bride the Riccardi brings home today.' Hair in heaps laid heavily Over a pale brow spirit-pure, — Carved like the heart of the coal-black tree, Crisped like a war-steed 's encolure, — Which vainly sought to dissemble her eyes Of the blackest black our eyes endure. He looked at her, as a lover can; She looked at him as one who wakes, — The past was asleep, and her life began. As love so ordered for both their sakes, A feast was held that selfsame night In the pile which the mighty shadow makes. (For Via Larga is three-parts light. But the palace overshadows one. Because of a crime which may God requite ! 263 Florence. To Florence and God the wrong was done, Through the first republic's murder there By Cosimo and his cursed son.) The Duke (with the statue's face in the square) Turned in the midst of his multitude At the bright approach of the bridal pair. Face to face the lovers stood A single minute and no more, While the bridegroom bent as a man subdued, — Bowed till his bonnet touched the floor, — For the Duke on the lady a kiss conferred. As the courtly custom was of yore. In a minute can lovers exchange a word? If a word did pass, which I do not think. Only one out of the thousand heard. That was the bridegroom. At day's brink He and his bride were alone at last In a bedchamber by a taper's blink. Calmly he said that her lot was cast. That the door she had passed was shut on her Till the final catafalk repassed. The world, meanwhile, its noise and stir. Through a certain window facing the east She might watch like a convent's chronicler. 264 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. Since passing the door might lead to a feast, And a feast might lead to so much beside, He, of many evils, chose the least. Meanwhile, worse fates than a lover's fate Who daily may ride and lean and look Where his lady watches behind the grate! And she — she watched the square like a book Holding one picture, and only one. Which daily to find she undertook. When the picture was reached the book was done, And she turned from it all night to scheme Of tearing it out for herself next sun. Weeks grew months, years, — gleam by gleam The glory dropped from youth and love. And both perceived they had dreamed a dream, Which hovered as dreams do, still above. But who can take a dream for truth? 0, hide our eyes from the next remove. One day, as the lady saw her youth Depart, and the silver thread that streaked Her hair, and won by the serpent's tooth. The brow so puckered, the chin so peaked, — And wondered who the woman was. So hollow-eyed and haggard-cheeked, 265 Florence. Fronting her silent in the glass, — '■ * Summon here, ' she suddenly said, * Before the rest of my old self pass, ^Him, the carver, a hand to aid. Who moulds the clay no love will change. And fixes a beauty never to fade. 'Let Robbia's craft so apt and strange Arrest the remains of young and fair, And rivet them while the seasons range. 'Make me a face on the window there Waiting as ever, mute the while. My love to pass below in the square.' ***** But long ere Robbia's cornice, fine With flowers and fruits which leaves enlace. Was set where now is the empty shrine, (With, leaning out of a bright blue space, A ghost might from a chink of sky. The passionate pale lady's face. Eying ever with earnest eye And quick-turned neck at its breathless stretch, Some one who ever passes by,) The Duke sighed like the simplest wretch In Florence, 'So my dream escapes! Will its record stay?' And he bade them fetch Some subtle fashioner of shapes, — ' Can the soul, the will, die out of a man Ere his body find the grave that gapes ? 266 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. * John of Douay shall work my plan, Mould me on horseback here aloft, Alive (the subtle artisan!), *In the very square I cross so oft That men may admire, when future suns Shall touch the eyes to a purpose soft, * While the mouth and the brow are brave in bronze, — Admire and say, **When he was alive. How he would take his pleasure once!*' *And it shall go hard but I contrive To listen meanwhile and laugh in my tomb At insolence which aspires to strive. ' ' ' Ferdinand was the founder of the Medici Villa at Rome while a Cardinal there — though without Holy Orders. He was a collector of rare works of art, such as the Niobe group, which he afterwards brought to Florence. John of Bologna has a fountain in the Boboli Gardens and his Mercury in the Accademia is very much copied and is well known ; of it Haw- thorne says: ** John of Bologna ^s Mercury, poising himself on tiptoe, and looking not merely buoyant enough to float, but as if he possessed more than the eagle's power of lofty flight. It seems a wonder that he did not absolutely fling himself 267 Florence. into the air when the artist gave him the last touch. No bolder work was ever achieved ; noth- ing so full of life has been done since." Mercury is represented as just blown out, full-fledged, poised for flight, from the lips of Aeolus, whose head, on which Mercury's toe just lingers, serves as a pedestal for the statue. Bologna's St. Luke is in Or San Michele and he has two groups of statuary in the Loggia dei Lanzi — The Rape of the Sabine Women, and Hercules Slaying the Centaur. Hawthorne writes of Bologna : **I think there has been no better sculptor since the days of Phidias. ' ' And yet neither John of Bologna nor Benve- nuto Cellini received the commission for the Fountain of Neptune near Cosimo's statue in the Piazza del Signoria. That design by a sculptor otherwise not well-known, Bartolom- meo Ammanati, who built the Ponte Trinita, and made additions to the Pitti Palace, was pre- ferred to the models offered by the other two. The fountain as a fountain, is a mere joke — the water trickling from it being only a smile, but the figure of Neptune who is surrounded by Tritons, is carved from the purest Carrara marble. 268 Mercury John of Bologna The Sixteenth Century in Florence. ST. PHILIP NERI. Affecting an art quite different from any hitherto associated with Florence — for this was before the birth of the opera — was one born in 1515, who though apparently he has not left behind him many foot-prints on the sands of his native city, he has accomplished a work which can be measured only by the sands of Time. St. Philip Neri, — ^ ^ Good Bipo, ' ' he was called in Florence — early set out for the eternal city where he was eventually called ^ * the Apostle of Eome,*' for there, quietly and assiduously, but no less strenuously than did the apostle of Flor- ence, he set about work of reform in the people of the Church; but unlike Savonarola, whom he greatly honored and revered, he avoided all political connections and disturbances. The reform was not to be accomplished amid the din of battle and the bugle blasts of denunci- ations, but ^4ike the gentle rain from heaven," the grace that was to renew the earth, descended into men's souls. The members of the religious community which he established to carry on the good work, were called * ^ Priests of the Oratory, ' ' and their exercises were quite different from those hith- erto practiced, consisting of all-day services, prayers, meditations, or discourses, inter- mingled with hymns and the acting of plays and religious dramas set to music and now expressed in the musical forms called Oratorios, and one 269 Florence. of our great Oratorios is the musical setting of one of the great poems of one of the great ora- torians — the Dream of Gerontius, by John Henry Newman, Cardinal, of Brompton Ora- tory, London, associated with which church was also Frederick William Faber : ST. PHILIP IN ENGLAND. **St. Philip came from the sunny South, From the streets of holy Rome ; His heart was hot with the love of souls, And England gave him a home. He had never slept outside the town More than half his quiet life; But his heart so burned, that in heaven he turned A pilgrim, and man of strife. Through many a land and o 'er many a sea With his staff and beads he came; Men saw him not, but their hearts grew hot. As though they were near a flame. In France and Spain, and in Polish towns, He planted his School of Mirth, In Mexico, and in rich Peru, Nay, in every nook of earth. He came himself, that traveling Saint! Felt, if not heard or seen ; It was not enough his sons should be Like what Philip himself had been. 270 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. Dear England he saw, its cold, cold, hearts ; Quoth he, What a burning shame That hearts so bold should be still so cold ; Good truth ! they have need of my flame ! He came with his staff, he came with his beads, You would know the old man by sight. If he were not a saint who hides his face And his virgin eyes so bright. Tell me if ever your heart of late Hath been strangely set on fire ; Have you been hardly patient with life. And looked on death with desire? Has earth seemed dull, or your soul been full Until you were fain to cry? Or have holy Names burnt you like flames, And you knew not how or why? Hath sin seemed the easiest thing in the world To put at arm's length from yourself? Hath Mary, sweet Mary, grown precious to you, Like a miser's hidden pelf? If it so be, oh listen to me ! Eejoice, for St. Philip is nigh; At Jesus' name he hath lit his flame, And you felt him passing by. He is out on earth to spread Mary's mirth. And that is — saving poor souls ; And happy are those on whom he throws But one of his burning coals. 271 Florence. This is the way that St. Philip works : He comes in the midst of your cares, He passes by, turns back on the sly, And catches you unawares ! Light to your eyes, and song to your ears, A touch that pricks like a dart, 'Tis Philip alone works in hearts of stone, ' And Mary taught him his art. Now down on your knees, good neighbors, please ; Thank our dear Lady for this, — That Philip hath come to an English home With those winning ways of his. Ask him to stay full many a day, A hardworking saint is he ! And is it not true there is much to do In this land of liberty 1 Now read me aright, good people, pray I Tis Philip himself is here ; 'Tis Philip's flame, more than Philip's name That you all should prize so dear. For Philip's sons are but Philip's staff, A staff that he wieldeth still ; Good father he is to those sons of his. But a sire with a right strong will. He is not content his sons should be Like what their father had been : He works himself ; he trusts no one else ; He is here today I ween. 272 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. Bid Mm God speed, since the Roman Saint An Englishman fain would be ; Long may he hide by his new fireside, For a right merry saint is he ! ' ' — Frederick William Faher, But why should we wander away from Flor- ence, for here, in the century following St. Philip's birth, the Fathers of the Oratory have erected a church, and named it in his honor. It occupies the side of the Piazza Firenze. GALILEO. We find in Santa Croce, an elaborate monu- ment to Galileo. He was not born in Florence, though of an ancient Florentine family, and Santa Croce contains the bones of one of his progenitors, the slab over whose grave — now almost effaced by the footsteps of Time — ^has been much praised by Mr. Ruskin. Galileo Galilei was born in Pisa, where the oscillations of the Cathedral sanctuary lamp led him to discover and to apply the momentum of the pendulum. The invention of the micro- scope has been attributed to him, but erro- neously. The telescope and the thermometer, which he invented, belong to Florence, whither the Grand Duke invited him to repair and with the title of court mathematician, to pursue his scientific investigations without fear — 273 Florence. ^ * Fear ! What had he to do with fear, Who ventured out abroad, Unpiloted, thro * pathless space. By angels only trod: — Who wandered with unfailing flight, Creation's vastness o'er, And brought to light an infinite. So unconceived before. When gazing on those worlds which first He was allowed to scan, How puny would appear the aims And littleness of man! And proud his inward consciousness. That he had dared to be A sharer in the mysteries Of God's immensity." — Margaret Junhin, Galileo 's home, not far from Florence at Ar- cetri, is of very great interest; the convent in which his daughter was a religious is also near. ^^Be reverent a little, for a little space at least; for here Galileo learned the story of the sun, and here Milton, looking on Val d'Arno, dreamed of Paradise." — Ouida, ** Nearer we hail Thy sunny slope, Arcetri, sung of Old For its green wine, — dearer to me, to most, As dwelt on by that great Astronomer 274 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. Seven years a prisoner at the city-gates Let in but in his grave-clothes. Sacred be His villa (just was it called The Gem) Sacred the lawn, where many a cypress threw Its length of shadow, while he watched the stars. ***** There, unseen. In manly beauty Milton stood before him, Gazing with reverent awe — Milton, his guest, Just come forth all life and enterprise. ' ' — Rogers, Galileo was in his later years both blind and deaf, and Milton doubtless never dreamed that in the former affliction he should resemble him. After Galileo 's death, his fingers were cut off — three of them — by an ardent admirer, when his body was finally placed in the church, for at first it was allowed to lie only in the sacristy, there being an uncertainty whether his scientific assertions were opposed to religious belief. Much is said of his trial by the Inquisition, sometimes called the Holy Office, a judicial body of inquiry — (^^Inquisition,'' from inquirere, to inquire) into matters relating to faith. An inquisitorial body was maintained by many ancient religions to see that there was no dis- sent from the state functions, and when Cath- olicity became the state religion of the Eoman Empire, the rulers — especially Theodosius and 275 Florence. Justinian — appointed inquisitors, whose ofl&ce it was to summon offenders before the civil tri- bunal, for in ages past, heresy was considered a civil crime, as well as a religious one. Was it not literally an inquisitorial body of the early Puritans of America, which, after severe persecution, drove out Roger Williams from its midst, into the wilderness, because he denied the right of its magistrates to impose faith and worship? And what about Anne Hutchinson, was not the synod which was held to try her for heresy, and which banished her also into the wilds, where she and her few followers who declared that *^no one was to be accounted a delinquent for doctrine,'' and where they met their death by the Indians — an Inquisition! Edward Everett was a master of good Eng- lish, but did it occur to him that he lived in a ** glass house,'' when he hurled the epithet ^ ^ bigots, ' ' at the members of the Church in the following extract of his? And what is his au- thority for the assertion that the Franciscans and Dominicans deride Galileo's discoveries? * * There are occasions in life in which a great mind lives years of rapt enjoyment in a moment. I can fancy the emotions of Galileo when, first raising the newly-constructed telescope to the heavens, he saw fulfilled the grand prophecy of Copernicus, and beheld the planet Venus cres- cent like the moon. 276 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. **It was such another moment as that, when the immortal printers of Mentz and Strassburg received the first copy of the Bible into their hands, the work of their divine art; like that, when Columbus, through the gray dawn of the 12th of October, 1492, beheld the shores of San Salvador ; like that, when the law of gravitation first revealed itself to the intellect of Newton; like that, when Franklin saw, by the stiffening fibers of the hempen cord of his kite, that he held the lightning in his grasp ; like that, when Leverrier received back from Berlin the tidings that the predicted planet was found. **Yes, noble Galileo, thou art right. ^It does move.' Bigots may make thee recant it, but it moves, nevertheless. Yes, the earth moves, and the planets move, and the mighty waters move, and the great sweeping tides of air move and the empires of men move, and the world of thought moves, ever onward and upward, to higher facts and bolder theories. The Inquisi- tion may seal thy lips, but they can no more stop the progress of the great truth propounded by Copernicus, and demonstrated by thee, than they can stop the revolving earth. *^ Close, now, venerable sage, that sightless, tearful eye ; it has seen what man never before saw ; it has seen enough. Hang up that poor lit- tle spy-glass ; it has done its work. Not Herschel nor Rosse have comparatively done more. Franciscans and Dominicans deride thy discov- 277 Florence. eries now, but the time will come when, from two hundred observatories in Europe and America, the glorious artillery of science shall nightly assault the skies ; but they shall gain no conquests in those glittering fields before which thine shall be forgotten. **Rest in peace, great Columbus of the heav- ens; like him, scorned, persecuted, broken- hearted — in other ages, in other hemispheres, when the votaries of science, with solemn acts of consecration, shall dedicate their stately edi- fices to the cause of knowledge and truth, thy name shall be mentioned with honor. ' ' The Church considered the ecclesiastical tri- bunal for heretical censure to be invested in the bishops, but in the 11th and 12th centuries an extraordinary commission was sent by Pope Innocent III into the south of France to help in the suppression of the vile teachings of the Waldenes and Albigensees which threatened the state as well as the Church. At the Fourth Lateran Council, in 1215, the bishops and others in authority were impressed with the necessity of checking heresy, but there was no special court for it; but in 1248, Pope Innocent IV established one and placed it under the direction of the Dominicans, then newly organized. The Inquisition in Spain was a state function, and was so severe in its dealings that the Bull of Pope Sixtus IV was issued against it. 278 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. However, in regard to Gralileo, if the Inquisi- torial body at first did not comprehend the scientific truths as discerned by him, and fear- ing that Holy Scriptures might be discredited, did request that he should not advance any theory opposed to the teachings of the Church, had not Holy Scriptures stated that the sun stood still during Joshua's prayer? That seemed an unusual occurrence, for the Churchmen as well as others of that age, thought that our earth usually stood still and that the sun revolved around it. Galileo advanced the correctness of the Co- pernican theory which we all now recognize, that the sun is the center of our system and that the earth and the other planets revolve around it. THE COPERNICAN SYSTEM. **The sun revolving on his axis turns. And with creative fire intensely burns ; ImpelPd the forcive air, our earth supreme Rolls with the planets round the solar gleam. First Mercury completes his transient year. Glowing, refulgent, with reflected glare; Bright Venus occupies a wider way. The early harbinger of night and day ; More distant still our globe terraqueous turns. Nor chills intense, nor fiercely heated burns ; Around her rolls the lunar orb of light. Trailing her silver glories through the night. 279 Florence. On the earth's orbit see the various signs, Mark where the sun, our year completing, shines ; First the bright Earn his languid ray improves ; Next glaring wat'ry thro' the Bull he moves; The am'rous Twins admit his genial ray; Now burning thro ' the Crab he takes his way ; The Lion flaming, bears the solar power; The Virgin faints beneath the sultry shower. Now the just Balance weighs his equal force, The slimy Serpent swelters in his course ; The sabled Archer clouds his languid face; The Goat, with tempests, urges on his race ; Now in the water his faint beams appear. And the cold Fishes end the circling year. Beyond our globe the sanguine Mars displays A strong reflection of primeval rays ; Next belted Jupiter far distant gleams. Scarcely enlighten 'd with the solar beams; With four unfix 'd receptacles of light. He towers majestic thro' the spacious height: But further yet the tardy Saturn lags. And five attendant luminaries drags ; Investing with a double ring his pace He circles through immensity of space. These are thy wondrous works, first Source of good Now more admir'd in being understood.'' — Thomas Chatterton, 280 The Sixteenth Century in Florence. However, the Churcli cannot be impugned for ignorance, for was not Copernicus a Church- man? He was made doctor of canon law at Ferrara, in 1503; he was ^ ^ Scholasticus ' ^ of Breslau till 1538, and he was canon of Frauen- burg, although he never received Holy Orders ; and was it not a pope, Gregory, who rectified the Calendar! Moreover, it is in regard to matters of Faith and not of science, that the Church wields the scepter of Infallibility. We are told that Galileo suffered tortures under the inquisition, but the fact is, he was highly honored by the pope, and invited to the Vatican to demonstrate his important discov- eries. We are also told that he was forced to deny that the earth moves — ^but that assertion also has been proved to be false. Yes, it moves, figuratively, as well as literally, and though each age has its own shining lights, and its problems, and characteristics distinctly its own, and though the great age of science and invention had come, and we cannot yet say, — gone; still, that age of Faith and of Art, — ^has it not been worth while? — for * * Faith builds a bridge across the gulf of death. To break the shock which blind nature cannot shun, And lands though smoothly on the further side. ' ' And of other things, — 281 Florence. *^A11 passes. Art alone Enduring stays with us; The Bust outlasts the throne — The coin, Tiberius.'' — Henry Austin Dohson, CHRONOLOGICAL RESUIVIE OF THE SIX- TEENTH CENTURY. Benvenuto Cellini 1500-1571 Giorgio Vasari 1511-1571 Bartolommeo Ammannati 1511-1592 St. Philip Neri 1515-1595 Cosimo I, Grand Duke 1519-1574 Catherine de 'Medici 1519-1589 Giulio de 'Medici, became Pope Clem- ent VII 1523 John of Bologna 1525-1608 Allesandro was Duke 1530-1537 Uffizi Palace built by Yasari 1561 Galileo 1564-1642 Francesco was Grand Duke 1574-1587 Ferdinand became Grand Duke 1587 Birth of Italian Opera 1600 282 PART II. PART II. THE TREASURES OF FLORENCE. *^ There be more things to greet the heart and eyes In Arno's dome of Art's most princely shrine, Where Sculpture with her rainbow sister vies ' ' — Byron. PIAZZA BELLA SIGNORIA. Statue of Cosimo I, by John of Bologna. Fountain of Neptune, by Bartolommeo Am- manti, said to mark the spot of the execution of Savonarola. PALAZZA VECCHIO. Now the Town Hall of Florence. From the tower, a good view of the city. Platform where was placed the Einghieri, decorated with sculp- ture. The Marzocco, or lion of Florence, by Donatello. In the Courtyard, a fountain of red porphyry, by Vasari, surmounted by a statue of a child with a dolphin by Verrocchio, and Arms of the city of Florence ; by Bandinelli, a group 285 Florence. of statuary, Hercules and Cacus, which was much ridiculed at the time of its completion. Inscription on the walls made when Savonarola proclaimed Christ king of Florence. Stairway with inscription in Latin and in Italian, naming the architects who had some share in the erec- tion or the alteration of the palace : Arnolf o di Cambio, Pisano, Michelozzo, Bandinelli, Vasari and others ; and also an inscription expressing a welcome to the princess who was to come as a bride to the Palazzo when it was the abode of the Medici in the year 1565 — Joanna of Austria. Poor Joanna, we shall notice her statue, never finished in her honor, but now used as ^^Abun- dance'' on the heights of the Boboli Gardens. Her husband, Francesco dei Medici is remem- bered only in connection with Bianca Capella. The Council Chamber, that was to have been decorated by Angelo, Leonardo and Bartolom- meo, but whose works were never completed; instead it is decorated with frescoes by Vasari — the subjects being historical and showing the portraits of famous men. Vasari raised the roof, which has since been carved by Majano, and he otherwise altered it for Cosimo I. The Council Chamber had been made by order of Savonarola, who presided over affairs of Florence in it when the Medici were banished. His statue is now placed there. In that same room Cosimo I was proclaimed Duke of Tus- cany, in 1569. 286 The Treasures op Florence. **We paced through frescoed Council-halls Dim with the dust of buried ages ; We lingered near the gorgeous walls Where winds the train of Eastern Sages. ' ' — The Earl of Crewe, Suite of rooms of Eleanor of Toledo, dec- orated with frescoes by Ghirlandajo, Botticelli, Filippino Lippi and Perugino. Suite of rooms of Pope Clement VII. Suite of rooms of Pope Leo X, with frescoes introducing persons of his court, including Michael Angelo. Chapel of St. Bernard, now called Capella dei Priori, from the fact that Savonarola received Holy Communion there the morning of his execution. On its walls are fres- coes by Ghirlandajo. Doorway of bronze at- tributed to Donatello. Statue of Victory, from the design by Michael Angelo. LOGGIA DEI LANZI. Made from designs by Orcagna. Judith, by Donatello ; Perseus, by Cellini ; Rape of the Sabine Women, by John of Bol- ogna; Hercules Slaying the Centaur, by John of Bologna; Antique statues which were re- moved hither from the Medici Villa at Rome; Statue of Polyxena by Fedi — the four figures of the group were produced from a single block of marble. A promise was given that the group should never be reproduced. 287 Florence. CASA MACHIAVELLI. No. 16 Via Guicciardini, near the Palazzo Vecchio. PALAZZO UPFIZI. Built by Vasari, also the portico degli Uffizi with many statues of famous Tuscans. The statue of Cosimo is by John of Bologna. The Magliabechiana Library now united with the Pitti Library form a National one of 200,000 volumes. On the second floor of the Palazzo is a circular suite of rooms, one of which is the Tribune, containing the rarest gems of the art collection. One of the five precious marbles, the Venus de 'Medici, was found in Hadrian's villa, Eome, and was brought to Florence by Duke Ferdinand. It is described thus by Byron : *^ There, too, the Goddess loves in stone, and fills The air around with beauty; we inhale The ambrosial aspect, which, beheld, instils Part of its immortality ; the veil Of heaven is half undrawn ; within the pale We stand, and in that form and face behold What mind can make, when Nature 's self would fail; And to the fond idolaters of old Envy the innate flash which such a soul could mould. We gaze and turn away, and know not where. Dazzled and drunk with beauty, till the heart 288 The Treasures of Florence. Eeels with its fulness ; there, forever there, Chained to the chariot of triumphant art. We stand as captives, and would not depart. Away ! there need no words, nor terms precise, The paltry jargon of the marble mart. Where pedantry gulls folly, — we have eyes : Blood, pulse, and breast confirm the Dardan Shepherd's prize. Appearedst thou not to Paris in this guise? Or to more deeply blest Anchises 1 or In all thy perfect goddess-ship, when lies Before thee thy own vanquished lord of war? And gazing in thy face as toward a star. Laid on thy lap, his eyes to thee upturn, Feeding on thy sweet cheek! while thy lips are With lava kisses melting while they burn. Showered on his eyelids, brow, and mouth, as from an urn! Glowing, and circumfused in speechless love. Their full divinity inadequate That feeling to express, or to improve. The gods become as mortals, and man's fate Has moments like their brightest; but, the weight Of earth recoils upon us ; — let it go ! We can recall such visions, and create. From what has been, or might be, things which grow Into thy statue 's form, and look like gods below. 289 Florence. I leave to learned fingers, and wise hands, The artist and his ape, to teach and tell How well his connoisseurship understands The graceful bend, and the voluptuous swell : Let these describe the undescribable ; I would not their vile breath should crisp the stream Wherein that image shall forever dwell ; The unruffled mirror of the lovliest dream That ever left the sky on the deep soul to beam. ' * Eogers has it thus: **We must return, and once more give a loose To the delighted spirit; — ^worshiping, In her small temple of rich workmanship, Venus herself, who, when she left the skies, Came hither/' Another of the marbles, the Dancing Faun, has Robert Cameron Eogers to eulogize it : **Thou dancer of a thousand years. Thou dancer of to-day. What silent music fills thine ears. What Bacchic lay. That thou shouldst dance the centuries Down their forgotten way? What mystic strain of pagan mirth Has charmed eternally 290 The Treasures of Florence. Those lithe, strong limbs, that spurn the earth? What melody. Unheard of men, has Father Pan Left lingering with thee? Ah! where is now the wanton throng That round thee used to meet? On dead lips died the drinking-song, ; But wild and sweet. What silent music urged thee on. To its unuttered beat. That when at last Time's weary will Brought thee again to sight. Thou cam'st forth dancing, dancing still, Into the light, Unwearied from the murk and dusk Of centuries of night? Alas for thee ! Alas, again. The early faith is gone ! The gods are no more seen of men, All, all are gone, — The shaggy forests no more shield The Satyr and the Faun. On Attic slopes the bee still hums. On many an Elian hill The wild-grape swells, but never comes The distant trill Of reddy flutes ; for Pan is dead, — Broken his pipes and still. 291 Florence. And yet within thy listening ears The pagan measures ring, — Those limbs that have outdanced the years Yet tireless spring: How canst thou dream Pan dead when still Thou seem'st to hear him singT' Titian's Venus of Urbino, so-called because painted for the Duke of Urbino, is the nude fig- ure reclining after a bath. Here also are Raphael's Pope Julius II, the Cardellino, the young St. John and the portrait of a lady. The Old Halls of the Tuscan painters contain Sodoma's St. Sebastian; Andrea del Sarto's Madonna with the Harpies, and his St. James and Two Boys; Filippino Lippi's Madonna En- throned, and the Adoration of the Magi, and Albertinelli's Visitation. Niobe Hall — antique statue of Niobe and her children. Hall of Portraits of Painters, made by themselves. Vast collections of Flemish, Dutch, German and Venetian art ; Adoration of the Magi, and the Vision of St. Francis, by Filippino Lippi; Adoration of the Magi, by Ghirlandajo ; Bacchus, by Michael Angelo, and his only finished painting, the Holy Family. In the Eoom of Botticelli are his Birth of Venus, Calumny of Apelles, Fortitude, Virgin and Child, Annunciation, the ^ ^ Magnificat, ' ' and the Adoration of the Magi. His Judith is 292 The Treasures op Florence. also in the Uffizi. There are also here in the Uffizi, The Patron Saints of Florence, by Fra Bartolommeo ; the Coronation of the Virgin by Angelico, and the Portrait of Allesandro de' Medici, by Vasari, and da Vinci's Head of Me- dusa. SANTA CROCE CHURCH. Santa Croce Church, the Pantheon of Flor- ence. Early Italian Gothic, built in 1294 by Arnolfo di Cambio in honor of the Holy Cross. Form of the church to conform to that shape and decorations and frescoes represent scenes in which the cross is prominent, done by Giotto, Gaddi, etc. It was built for the Franciscans, and many of the frescoes are of saints of their order. It contains the only authentic portrait of St. Francis taken from life by Cimabue. The tower was erected in 1840. Lovely Annunciation, by Donatello, and also a crucifix in wood and a marble pulpit by the same sculptor, besides a bronze statue of St. Louis of Toulouse. Cenotaph to Dante, Machiavelli 's tomb ; mon- ument to Michael Angelo, by Vasari; tomb of Alfieri, the Italian poet, erected by the Countess of Albany, the widow of Charles Edward Stuart, the so-called ^'Pretender,'' and done by Canova; bust of Christ, by Andrea del Sarto; tomb of Eossini, the composer; and of Cheru- bini, who was born in Florence in 1760 and whose first Mass was performed here. 293 FIjORENCE. The pavements contain many monumental slabs, among which is one to Galileo, the pro- genitor of Galileo Galilei and which was praised extravagantly by Ruskin. A large rose window, made from a design by Ghiberti, contains I. H. S. which St. Barnardino of Siena, who was a Franciscan, placed here in 1437. (lusus, Homini Salvator; or, Jesus, the Savior of Men.) Santa Croce contains many chapels built and decorated for prominent Florentine families. MEDICI CHAPEL. Built by Michelozzo, altar piece by Giotto, tabernacle by Mino da Fiesole, altar and terra- cotta reliefs by Andrea della Robbia. CAPELLA PEKUZZI. Frescoes by Giotto, altar-piece by Andrea del Sarto. THE RICCAKDI CHAPEL. It was appropriated by the Bonapartes and contains monuments of the family. CAPELLA BARDI. Pronounced by Ruskin to be the most perfect in Italy, frescoes by Giotto, the St. Francis ones which he reproduced with slight modifications from his frescoes at Assisi. He introduced two portraits of the Bardi in the scene of the Death of Francis — the Bardi who had become a Fran- ciscan, and his father, the great banker. 294 The Treasures of Florence the baeoncelli chapel. The authentic portrait of Giotto, inscribed with his name ; a monument by Pisano. Fres- coes by Taddeo Gaddi, St. Joachim in the Tem- ple, being very fine ; also his Birth of the Virgin. THE CAPELLA DEI PAZZI. Built by Brunelleschi, outside is a frieze of angels' heads by Donatello, within are terra- cottas by Luca della Eobbia. Jacopo Pazzi, who led the conspiracy against the Medici in 1478, was buried here after being hanged, but his body was afterwards torn away and flung into the Arno. The statue of St. Louis of Tou- louse by Donatello is the last statue he made. It represents the saint in the same posture as in Taddeo Gaddi 's portrait of him in the sac- risty. In the Piazza Santa Croce, before the church, is Dante's monument. ''You will return home with a general im- pression that Santa Croce is somehow the ugliest Gothic church you ever were in! Well, that is really so; and now, will you take the pains to see why? ' ' There are two features, on which, more than on any others, the grace and delight of a fine Gothic building depends; one is the springing of its vaultings, the other the proportion and fantasy of its traceries. This Church of Santa 295 Florence. Croce has no vaultings at all, but the roof of a farm-house barn. And its windows are all of the same pattern, — the exceedingly prosaic one of two pointed arches, with a round hole above, between them. *^And to make the simplicity of the roof more conspicuous, the aisles are successive sheds, built at every arch. In the aisles of the Campo Santo of Pisa the unbroken flat roof leaves the eye free to look to the traceries ; but here, a suc- cession of up-and-down sloping beam and lath gives the impression of a line of stabling rather than a church aisle. And lastly, while in fine Gothic buildings, the entire perspective con- cludes itself gloriously in the high and distant apse, here the nave is cut across sharply by a line of ten chapels, the apse being only a tall recess in the midst of them, so that strictly speaking, the church is not of the form of a cross, but of a letter T. ^^Can this clumsy and ungraceful arrange- ment be indeed the design of the renowned Arnolfo? ^ ' Yes, this is purest Arnolf o-Gothic ; not beau- tiful by any means ; but deserving, nevertheless, our thoughtfulest examination. We will trace its complete character another day; just now we are only concerned with this pre-christian form of the letter T, insisted upon in the lines of chapels. Respecting which, you are to observe, that the first Christian churches in the cata- 296 The Treasures of Florence. combs took the form of a blunt cross naturally ; a square chamber having a vaulted recess on each side; then the Byzantine churches were structurally built in the form of an equal cross ; while the heraldic and other ornamental equal- armed crosses are partly signs of glory and vic- tory, and partly of light, and divine spiritual presence. ^^But the Franciscans and the Dominicans saw in the cross no sign of triumph, but of trial. The wounds of their Master were to be their inheritance. So their first ^im was to make what image to the cross their church might pre- sent, distinctly that of the actual instrument of death. **And they did this most effectually by using the form of the letter T, that of the Furca or Gibbet, — not the sign of peace. Also, their churches were meant for use, not show, nor self- glorification, nor town-glorification. They wanted places for preaching, prayer, sacrifice, burial, and had no intention of showing how high they could build towers, or how widely they could arch vaults. Strong walls, and on the roof of a barn, — these your Franciscan asks of his Arnolfo. These Arnolfo gives, — thor- oughly and wisely built; the succession of gable roof being a new device for strength, much praised in its day.'^ — John RusJcin. 297 Florence. PALAZZO PAZZI. It is now called the Barbadori Palace; the masterpiece of Brunelleschi's domestic archi- tecture. CONVENT OF SANTA MARIA MADDELENA DEI PAZZI. Frescoes by Perugino. This convent was built for a daughter of the Pazzi; she was a religious here, and was later beatified. Her prayer: *'I say, my Jesus, Thou art mad with love ! I say so, and shall always say so ' ' — is the theme for a poem by Eeverend Edmund Hill, C. P., entitled, ST. MARY MAGDALEN OF PAZZI TO THE SACRED HEART. '* Heart of hearts, a love is Thine Madly tender, blindly true! Love in vastness so divine, In excess so human too ! Seems it more a burning grief — Pining, aching for relief. Seems Thou dost not, canst not live, Save to sue us for Thy rest: While the all that we can give 298 The Treasures of Florence. Is as nothing at the best. Wondrous Lover! shall I say Thou hast thrown Thyself away? Drenched with anguish — steep 'd in woe — Thou must needs insatiate still, Linger patiently below, Prison 'd to Thy creature's will: While the current of the days Murmurs insult more than praise ! Here I find Thee, hour by hour. Waiting in Thy altar-home. Full of mercy, full of power — Mutely waiting till we come: Waiting for a soul to bless — Some poor sinner to caress. Forth, then, from the fragrant hush. Where I almost hear Thee beat, Bid a benediction gush — 'er me, thro ' me, thrilling sweet ! Heart of Jesus, full of me. Fill mine— till it break with Thee!'' CASA BUONARROTI. 64 Via Ghibellina. Michael Angelo 's house, now a museum of his work. BADIA. Has the finest wooden roof in Italy. Filippino Lippi's frescoes ; sculpture by Mina da Fiesole ; in the court, ancient tombs and tall towers. 299 Florence. BARGELLO. It is now the National Mnsenm, having been made so in 1865, on the occasion of the 600th anniversary of Dante's birth. Beautiful court- yard — the best of the Mediaeval palaces of Florence ; the stairway is picturesque, the walls being decorated with shields of the different Podestae. Within, statue of Architecture by Giambologna (John of Bologna) ; the Dying Adonis, by Michael Angelo; also unfinished works by the same artist, the bust of Brutus and the Victory ; the Mask of a Faun was done in his 15th year, while a pupil of Leonardo's school of art. Bandinelli's bust of Cosimo I, the Grand Duke. SALA DI DONATELLO. The Marzocco, or lion of Florence (the deri- vation of the word is not fully understood.) David; St. George, his masterpiece; cast of the equestrian statue of Gattamelata at Padua. ROOM OF THE KOBBIAS LUCA, ANDREA AND GIOVANNI. The bust of the Boy Christ, by Luca is espe- cially beautiful ; the David, by Verrochio ; also a Madonna by Verrocchio. The reliefs in bronze of the models for the Sacrifice of Isaac, presented by Ghiberti and Brunelleschi, rivals for the order of the doors of the Baptistery, are in the Bargello. The Chapel of the Bargello contains the frescoes of 300 The Treasures of Florence, Giotto, brought to light in 1840, from under their coating of whitewash — the most famous being the portrait of Dante. CHURCH OF SS. ANNUNCIATION. Servite Church, with frescoes illustrating the life of the saint of the Order, Philip Benizzi; mosaic by Ghirlandajo over chief door ; tomb of Benvenuto Cellini ; celebrated series of frescoes by Andrea del Sarto, particularly the Madonna del Saco ; his Head of Christ over the altar ; in the corridor is a bust of the artist, and his home, marked with a tablet, is not far away. Assumption of the Virgin, by Perugino. The Chapel near the entrance contains a pic- ture of the Madonna, said to be miraculous, for the Blessed Lady herself finished the work to alleviate the distress of the artist who felt that the task was beyond his ability. The picture is exposed to the public only on the titular Feast day of the church — March 25. The Chapel itself is the work of Michelozzo, done in 1448. In another chapel is the tomb of Bandi- nelli, over which is a Pieta which he himself wrought. A chapel contains the monument of John of Bologna; also a crucifix wrought by him, and reliefs showing scenes from the Passion of Our Lord. Near the church, in the Piazza del Annunziata, is the statue of Ferdinand dei Medici, Grand Duke, by John of Bologna. It is the statue of 301 Florence. which Eobert Browning wrote in **The Statue and the Bust. ' ' SPEDALE DEGLI INNOCENTI— THE FOUND- LINGS' INSTITUTE. Built by Brunelleschi in 1420. Frieze of Luca della Eobbia's ^* bambini'' in terra-cotta glazed ware decorates the arcade ; over doorway of the chapel, an Annunciation by Luca. In the chapel, an altar piece by Ghirlandajo made in 1488. SAN MARCO CHURCH. An aisleless church with a flat roof, founded in 1290. Crucifix by Giotto; Madonna by Fra Bar- tolommeo; tomb of St. Antoninus, a monk of San Marco, who was also archbishop of Flor- ence. SAN MARCO MONASTERY. Now a Museum. It was built by Michelzzo. Frescoes by Angelico ; his Madonna of the Star has been stolen from here. Frescoes and por- trait of Savonarola by Fra Bartolommeo. Cell of St. Antoninus, in which the Pater Patriae held discourse with him, and in which Pope Eugenius stayed at the time of the conse- cration of San Marco Monastery. Cell of Savonarola; his rosary, manuscripts and other memorials. Fresco of the Last Judgment, by Ghirland- ajo. 302 The Treasures of Florence. PALAZZO PANDOLFINI. Designed by Eaphael. ACCADEMIA. The paintings show the development of Tus- can art. Court is decorated with reliefs by Luca della Robbia. Panels made for the Sacristy of Santa Croce, by Taddeo Gaddi. Eight panel pictures by Angelico, which orna- mented the presses of the Annunziata Church, made when Angelico was at Fiesole. Of the ** Descent from the Cross ^^ a writer says: ^ * They make us forget that they are art. ' ' Ma- donna, by Cimabue; the Virgin Enthroned, by Giotto ; works of Lippo Lippi ; Descent from the Cross, by Filippino Lippi; Nativity, by Ghir- landajo. In the Tribune, the David and unfinished statues, by Michael Angelo. Suite of rooms of Fra Angelico 's works. Suite of rooms of Bot- ticelli 's works, among which are Venus with the Three Graces ; Coronation of the Virgin, which shows, as one of his characteristics, great ve- hemence of spirit, and the Primavera; Verro- chio's work, the Baptism of Christ, having one figure done by Leonardo da Vinci. Fra Bar- tolommeo's The Vision of St. Bernard. The well known Mercury of John of Bologna, which was intended by Ferdinand I for the Medici Villa at Rome. Madonna by Masaccio. Peru- gino's Vallombrosa Assumption. 303 Florence. RICCARDI PALACE. Built by Michelozzo for the Medici. The court of Lorenzo, the Magnificent was held there. Its chief attraction now is the Medici chapel, with its beautiful frescoes, particularly a Madonna by Filippo Lippi. SAN LORENZO CHURCH. This is distinctly a Medician church, having been built by the family and some other wealthy Florentines. In the pavement before the high altar is a slab which marks the resting place of the Pater Patriae, and in the **01d Sacristy,*' built by Brunelleschi, with a bronze door by Donatello, rest his father and mother. The *^New Sacristy'' was built by Michael An- gelo for Pope Clement as a mausoleum for the family, and contains the famous statues of Lo- renzo and Giuliano dei Medici, with their even more famous decorations, the figures of Day and Night and Twilight and Dawn. Lorenzo, the Magnificent, and his brother Giuliano, the victim of the Pazzi, also sleep here, their re- mains having been removed thither by Cosimo I, the Grand Duke. There is a monument to the Medici by Verrocchio; two bronze pulpits left unfinished by Donatello, and completed by a pupil; also the tomb of Donatello; Thorwald- sen's monument to Benvenuto Cellini; Annun- ciation by Filippo Lippi. In the Eefectory, a Last Supper, by Ghirlandajo. 304 The Treasures of Florence. LAURENTIAN LIBRARY. Near San Lorenzo Church. Founded by Cosimo, the Pater Patriae in the 15th century; enriched by Lorenzo, the Mag- nificent. At the expulsion of the Medici, the Eepublic gave the library to Savonarola for the Monks of San Marco, for a loan of money. Pope Leo X brought it back and removed it to Eome ; his cousin, Clement VII, transferred it back again to Florence, and Michael Angelo designed the building to contain the books. It contains over 7,000 volumes, 500 of which belong to a time previous to the 12th century, and one volume, the Gospels, was written by a monk in the year 586. This library is the look-lovers' Paradise; the illuminated manuscripts, and the masterpieces of the art of miniature being especially dazzling. BAPTISTERY. Mosaics in the Choir, done by one of the monks of St. Francis before the year 1226. Mosaic work in the dome is by Gaddo Gaddi, from a design by Giotto. Ghiberti's bronze doors; bronze door by Pis- ano. Wooden statue of Magdalen, by Dona- tello, also the tomb of the so-called Pope John XXIII (the Council of Constance deposed him and he died in Florence) ; Before the Baptist- ery, the porphyry columns from Pisa. 305 Florence. DUOMO SANTA MARIA DEL FIORE. Erected by Arnolfo, Giotto, Pisano, Brnn- ellescM. Campanile, by Giotto, decorated by him and also by Pisano and Delia Robbia. Dome of Cathedral by Brunelleschi. Mosaic over door by Gaddo Gaddi, Taddeo Gaddi's father, who was a friend of Cimabne, and a noteworthy worker in mosaics. His coronation of the Virgin in the chief portal of the Duomo shows that he, as well as Cimabne, at first, was influenced by the Byzantine style, particularly in the delicate handling of gold in the high lights — in the Byzantine art gold was used ex- cessively — although he shows also that he too had caught some of the spirit of the new art. Dante 's portrait on wood ; tomb and memorial of St. Zanobius, by Ghiberti, in the chapel built by Brunelleschi; Brunelleschi 's monument; statues of the prophets, by Donatello; bronze door of sacristy, by Lucia della Robbia ; bust of Giotto, by Majano ; portrait of St. Zanobius Enthroned, by the School of Giotto; choir decorated with frescoes by Vasari; back of the high altar, a Pieta, by Michael Angelo ; reliefs by Luca della Robbia. The sacristy door is celebrated since the Pazzi conspiracy, as it afforded shelter to Lorenzo, the Magnificent. Statue to Brunel- leschi, in Piazza del Duomo. 306 The Treasures op Florence. MUSEO SANTA MARIA DEL FIORE. A magnificent silver altar which was re- moved here from the Baptistery. It is worked in relief, showing scenes from the life of St. John. The bas-reliefs are by Verrocchio and the statue of St. John is by Michelozzo. Marble statues of St. Reparata and Christ, by Pisano. The famous * ' cantorio, ' ' or singing boys, by Donatello and Luca della Eobbia. LOGGIA DI BIGALLO. It is a Gothic structure and beyond the Log- gia is an oratory or chapel containing frescoes by Orcagna — the early architects were painters, sculptors and artists in every sense of the word — and from its pulpit the Dominican saint, Peter Martyr, thundered forth his invectives against heresy. The chapel contains also a couple of early Madonnas, painted by a pupil of Pisano, and a Madonna in relief by Arnolf o di Cambio. The predella before the statue of the Ma- donna is a work of Ghirlandajo. The niches over the Loggia contain statues of the Madonna, St. Lucy and St. Peter Martyr. The name Bigallo was derived from that of a hospital outside of Florence, which the Society acquired. 307 Florence. SANTA MARIA NOVELLA CHURCH. Cimabue's Madonna: The painting is now said to have been done by Duccio of Siena. It is often called the Rucellai Madonna, from the name of a wealthy Florentine family who helped build the church. It is in their family chapel. Frescoes by Giotto, Masaccio, and Ghirlandajo. Tomb of Ghirlandajo, with a monument wrought by Ghiberti. Last Judgment, by Fra Bartolommeo. In the sacristy, fountain by Gio- vanni della Robbia. Spanish Chapel with fres- coes of noted Florentines, among whom are Cimabue. Strozzi Chapel, with tomb of the Strozzi, built by Majano; decorated by Filip- pino Lippi. Chapel beyond the Choir has Cruci- fix made by Brunelleschi, to rival that done by Donatello. The Piazza Santa Maria del No- vella has a series of medallions by Luca della Robbia. Of Ghirlandajo 's frescoes Mr. Ruskin writes : ^^ Today, as early as you please, and at all events before doing anything else, let us go to Giotto's own parish-church, Santa Maria No- vella. If, walking from the Strozzi Palace, you look on your right for the ^ Way of the Beautiful Ladies, ' it will take you quickly there. *^Do not let anything in the way of acquaint- ance, sacristan, or chance sight stop you in do- ing what I tell you. Walk straight up to the church, into the apse of it (you may let your 308 The Treasures of Florence. eyes rest, as you walk, on the glow of its glass, only mind the step, half way) ; — and lift the curtain, and go in behind the grand marble altar, giving anybody who follows you anything they want to hold their tongues or go away. * * You know, most probably, already, that the frescoes on each side of you are Ghirlandajo^s. You have been told that they are very fine, and if you know anything of painting, you know the portraits in them are so. Nevertheless, some- how, you don't really enjoy these frescoes, nor come often here, do you? **The reason of which is, that if you are a nice person, they are not nice enough for you; and if a vulgar person, not vulgar enough. But if you are a nice person, I want you to look care- fully, today, at the two lowest, next the win- dows, for a few minutes, that you may better feel the art you are really to study, by its con- trast with these. On your left hand is repre- sented the birth of the Virgin. On your right, her meeting with Elizabeth. You can't easily see better pieces — nowhere more pompous pieces — of flat goldsmith's work. Ghirlandajo was to the end of his life a mere goldsmith, with a gift of portraiture. And here he has done his best, and has put a long wall in wonderful per- spective, and the whole of Florence behind Elizabeth's house in the country; and a splen- did bas-relief, in the style of Luca della Robbia in St. Ann 's bedroom ; and he has carved all the 309 Florence. pilasters, and embroidered all the dresses, and flourished and trumpeted into every corner ; and it is all done, within just a point, as well as it can be done; and quite as well as Ghirlandajo could do it. But the point in which it just misses being as well as it can be done is the vital point. And it is all simply — good for nothing. '^Extricate yourself from the goldsmith's rubbish of it, and look full at the Salutation. You will say, perhaps, at first, ^ What grand and graceful figures ! ' Are you sure they are grace- ful? Look again, and you will see their drap- eries hang from them exactly as they would from two clothes pegs. Now, fine drapery, really well drawn, as it hangs from a clothes- peg, is always rather impressive, especially if it be disposed in breadths and folds ; but that is the only grace of the figures. ^ ^ Secondly. Look at the Madonna, carefully. You will find she is not in the least meek — only stupid, — as all the other women in the picture are. *' *St. Elizabeth, you think, is nice?' Yes; and she says, ^Whence is it to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me ? ' really with a great deal of serious feeling?' Yes, with a great deal. Well, you have looked enough at these two. Now — just for another minute — look at the birth of the Virgin. *A most graceful group (your Murray's Guide 310 The Treasures op Florence. tells you), in the attendant servants.' Ex- tremely so. Also, the one holding the child is rather pretty. Also, the servant pouring out the water does it from a height, without splash- ing, most cleverly. ^^Also, the lady coming to ask for St. Ann, and see the baby, walks majestically and is very finely dressed. And as for the bas-relief in the style of Luca della Robbia, you might really almost think it was Luca ! The very best plated goods. Master Ghirlandajo, no doubt, always on hand at your shop. ' ' We shall not stop to discuss the justice or injustice of Mr. Ruskin's estimate of Ghir- landajo, but shall proceed with him to view Giotto's Frescoes in the same church: *^Well, now you must ask for the sacristan, who is civil and nice enough, and get him to let you into the green cloister, and then go into the less cloister opening out of it on the right, as you go down the steps; and you must ask for the tomb of the Marchesa Ridolfi; and in the recess behind the Marchesa 's tomb — ^very close to the ground, and in excellent light, if the day is fine — you will see two small frescoes, only about four feet wide each, in odd-shaped bits of wall — quarters of circles — representing, that on the left, the Meeting of Joachim and Ann at the Golden Gate ; and that on the right, the Birth of the Virgin. 311 Florence. *^No flourish of trumpets here, at any rate, you think! No gold on the gate; and for the birth of the Virgin — ^is this all! Goodness! — nothing to be seen, whatever, of bas-reliefs, nor fine dresses, nor graceful pourings out of wa- ter, nor processions of visitors? *^No. There's but one thing you can see, here, which you didn't see in Ghirlandajo's fresco, unless you were very clever and looked hard for it — the Baby! And you are never likely to see a more true piece of Giotto 's work in this world. *'A round-faced, small-eyed little thing, tied up in a bundle. Yes, Giotto was of the opinion she must have appeared really not much else than that. But look at the servant who has just finished dressing her; — awe-struck, full of love and wonder, putting her hand softly on the child's head, who has never cried. The nurse, who has never taken her, is — the nurse, and no more: tidy in the extreme, and greatly proud and pleased ; but would be as much so with any other child. ^^Ghirlandajo's St. Ann (I ought to have told you to notice that, — ^you can afterwards), is sitting strongly up in bed, watching, if not directing, all that is going on. Giotto's, lying down on the pillow, leans her face on her hand ; partly exhausted, partly in deep thought. She knows that all will be well done for the child, either by the servants, or God ; she need not look after anything. 312 The Treasures of Florence, **At the foot of the bed are the midwife, and a servant who has brought drink for St. Ann. The servant stops, seeing her so qniet; asking the midwife, * Shall I give it her nowT The midwife, her hands lifted nnder her robe, in the attitude of thanksgiving (with Giotto dis- tinguishable always, though one doesn't know how, from that of prayer), answers, with her look, *Let be — she does not want anything.' ^*At the door a single acquaintance is coming in to see the child. Of ornament, there is only the entirely simple outline of the vase which the servant carries; of color, two or three masses of sober red and pure white, with brown and gray. That is all. And if you can be pleased with this, you can see Florence. But if not, by all means amuse yourself there, if you find it amusing, as long as you like; you can never see it. **But if you are pleased, ever so little, with this fresco, think what the pleasure means. I brought you on purpose, round, through the richest overture, and farrago of tweedledum and tweedledee, I could find in Florence; and here is a tune of four notes, or a shepherd's pipe, played by the picture of nobody ; and yet you like it. You know what music is, then. Here is another little tune, by the same player, and sweeter. I let you hear the simplest first. **The fresco on the left, with the bright blue sky and the rosy figures. Why, anybody might 313 Florence. like that! Yes; but, alas, all the blue sky is repainted. It was blue always, however, and bright, too, and I dare say, when the fresco was first done everybody did like it. You know the story of Joachim and Ann, I hope ? Not that I do myself, quite in the ins and outs; and if you don't I'm not going to keep you waiting while I tell it"— But we are going to keep Mr. Ruskin waiting, while we tell it : One of the greatest blessings of the Jewish people was fecundity, and to be childless was considered a curse ; especially as the time drew near, when the Prophecies should be fulfilled and the long-expected Messiah be born upon the earth. Joachim and Ann were childless, despite their prayers and tears, and their sacrifices offered up in the Temple, only to be rejected. For twenty years they had hoped, but hoped in vain, for off-spring, and now Ann was aged, and Joachim was in disgrace. This picture. The Meeting of St. Joachim and St. Ann, at the Golden Gate of the Temple, com- memorates a wonderful moment, when Ann realizes and Joachim, enlightened by Divine favor, realizes, that she is to bring forth a child, and he hastens from his prayers to greet her. It is a speechlessly solemn moment, but do either one or the other have the faintest shadow 314 The Meeting of St. Ann and St. Joachim at the Golden Gate. (Detail) Santa Maria Novello, Florence Giotto The Treasures of Florence. of an idea of what child she was to bring forth, — Mary, the Virgin Immaculate, who would in turn bring forth the Savior of the world? COMMEMORATION OF ST. ANNE. ** Watching with maternal pleasure Childhood's path by Mary trod. Blessed Anne, how great a treasure Wert thou guarding for thy God ! Didst thou dream, favored Mother, That for her whom thou didst bear. Waited honor that none other E'en of David's house might share? Didst thou marvel that so holy Child of woman born could be, As the little maiden lowly Meekly learning at thy knee? Didst thou, as in art depicted. Teach her sacred scrolls to read. Where the Advent stood predicted. Of the Christ, the Promised Seed? Learned she thus the Lord's Anointed Should be born of David 's line Of a Virgin God appointed To bring forth the Child Divine? Little know we, but we cherish Thoughts of thee to Christ so near. Thy remembrance ne 'er shall perish. Mother of His Mother dear. ' ' — Mary Ann Thomson, 315 Florence. Let Mr. Ruskin proceed: **A11 you need know, before this fresco, and you scarcely need know so much, is, that here are an old husband and old wife, meeting again by surprise, after losing each other, and being each in great fear; meeting at the place where they were told by God each to go, without know- ing what was to happen there. **So they rushed into each other's arms, and kissed each other T' '' 'No,' says Giotto, * not that.' ''They advanced to meet, in a manner con- formable to the strictest laws of composition; and with their draperies cast into folds which no one until Raphael could have arranged bet- ter?" " 'No,' says Giotto, 'not that.' ' ' St. Ann has moved quickest ; her dress just falls into folds sloping backwards enough to tell you so much. She has caught St. Joachim by his mantle, and draws him to her, softly, by that. St. Joachim lays his hand under her arm, seeing she is like to faint, and holds her up. They do not kiss each other — only look into each other's eyes. And God's angel lays his hand on their heads. Behind them, there are two rough figures, busied with their own affairs, — two of Joachim 's shepherds ; one, bare-headed, the other wearing the wide Florentine cap with the falling point behind, which is exactly like 316 The Treasures of Florence. the tube of a larkspur or violet; but carrying game, and talking to each other about — Greasy- Joan and her pot, or the like. Not at all the sort of persons whom you would have thought in harmony with the scene ; — by the laws of the drama, according to Eacine or Voltaire. ' ^ No, but according to Shakespeare, or Giotto, these are just the kind of persons likely to be there, as much as the angel is likely to be there also, though you will be told nowadays that Giotto was absurd for putting him into the sky, of which an apothecary can produce the similar blue, in a bottle. And now that you have had Shakespeare and sundry other men of head and heart, following the track of this shepherd lad, you can forgive him his grotesques in the cor- The subject of St. Joachim in the Temple is so often treated in early art, that an under- standing of the tradition, countenanced by the Church, will help us in the appre- ciation of the pictures. We have seen Taddeo Gaddi's representation, in the Baroncelli Chapel of Santa Croce, and later shall view more leisurly, Ghirlandajo's fresco of the same subject. Mrs. Jameson, in her Legends of the Madonna, quotes the story: ** There was a man of Nazareth, whose name was J oachim, and he had for his wife a woman 317 Florence. of Bethlehem, whose name was Anna, and both were of the royal house of David. Their lives were pure and righteous, and they served the Lord with singleness of heart. And being rich, they divided their substance into three portions, one for the service of the temple, one for the poor and the strangers, and one for their own household. *^0n a certain feast day, Joachim brought double offerings to the Lord according to his custom, for he said, ^ Out of my superfluity will I give for the whole people, that I may find favor in the sight of the Lord, and forgiveness of my sins.' *^And when the children of Israel brought their gifts, Joachim also brought his; but the high priest Issachar stood over against him and opposed him, saying, * It is not lawful for thee to bring thine offering, seeing that thou hast not begot issue in Israel. ' *^And Joachim was exceeding sorrowful, and went down to his house; and he searched through all the registers of the twelve tribes to discover if he alone had been childless in Israel. And he found that all the righteous men, and the patriarchs who had lived before him, had been the fathers of sons and daugh- ters. And he called to mind his father Abra- ham, to whom in his old age had been granted a son, even Isaac. 318 The Treasures of Florence. ^^And JoacMm was more and more sorrow- ful; and he would not be seen by his wife, but avoided her, and went away into the pastures where were the shepherds and the sheep-cotes. And he built himself a hut, and fasted forty days and forty nights; for he said, * Until the Lord look upon me mercifully, prayer shall be my meat and my drink. ' ^^But his wife Anna remained lonely in her house, and mourned with a twofold sorrow, for her widowhood and for her barrenness. Then drew near the last day of the feast of the Lord ; and Judith, her handmaid, said to Anna, ^How long wilt thou afflict thy soul? Behold the feast of the Lord is come, and it is not lawful for thee thus to mourn. Take this silken fillet, which was bestowed on me by one of high de- gree, whom I formerly served, and bind it round thy head, for it is not fit that I, who am thy handmaid, should wear it, but it is fitting for thee, whose brow is as the brow of a crowned queen. ' ^^ And Anna replied, ^Begone ! such things are not for me, for the Lord hath humbled me. As for this fillet, some wicked person hath given it to thee; and thou art come to make me a par- taker in thy sin.' ** And Judith, her maid, answered : * What evil shall I wish thee since thou wilt not hearken to my voice! for worse I cannot wish thee than that with which the Lord hath afflicted thee, 319 Florence. seeing that He hath shut up thy womb, that thou shouldst not be a mother in Israel. ' **And Anna hearing those words was sorely troubled. And she laid aside her mourning gar- ments, and she adorned her head, and put on her bridal attire; and at the ninth hour she went forth into the garden, and sat down under a laurel tree and prayed earnestly. And look- ing up to heaven, she saw within the laurel bush a sparrow's nest; and murmuring within her- self, she said: ^Alas! and woe is me! Who hath begotten me? Who hath brought me forth? that I should be accursed in the sight of Israel and scorned and shamed before my people, and cast out of the temple of the Lord! Woe is me! To what shall I be likened? I cannot be likened to the fowls of heaven, for the fowls of heaven are fruitful in thy sight, Lord! Woe is me! To what shall I be likened? Not to the unreasoning beasts of the earth, for they are fruitful in thy sight, Lord ! Woe is me ! To what shall I be likened? Not to these waters, for they are fruitful in thy sight, Lord ! Woe is me ! To what shall I be likened? Not unto the earth, for the earth bringeth forth her fruit in due season, and praiseth thee, Lord ! ' **And behold an angel stood by her and said, 'Anna, thy prayer is heard, thou shalt bring forth, and thy child shall be blessed throughout the whole world. ' **And Anna said, *As the Lord livetli, what- 320 The Treasures of Florence. ever I shall bring forth, be it a man-child or a maid, I will present an offering to the Lord. ' *^And behold another angel came and said to her, ' See, thy husband Joachim is coming with his shepherds;' for an angel had spoken to him also, and had comforted him with promises. **And Anna went forth to meet her husband, and Joachim came from the pasture with his herds, and they met at the golden gate; and Anna ran and embraced her husband, and hung upon his neck, saying, *Now know I that the Lord hath blessed me. I, who was a widow, am no longer a widow ; I, who was barren, shall become a joyful mother.' ^^And they returned home together." As we pass back to Ghirlandajo's frescoes, let us read Mrs. Jameson's description of his Joachim in the Temple : *^In the more elaborate composition by Ghir- landajo (Florence, S. Maria Novella), there is a grand view into the interior of the temple, with arches richly sculptured. Joachim is thrust forth by one of the attendants, while in the background the high priest accepts the of- ferings of a more favored votary. On each side are groups looking on, who express the con- tempt and hatred they feel for one, who, not having children, presumes to approach the altar. All these, according to the custom of Ghirlan- dajo, are portraits of distinguished persons. 321 Florence. ^^Tlie first figure on the right represents the painter Baldovinetti ; next to him, with his hand on his side, Ghirlandajo himself; the third, with long black hair, is Bastiano Mainardi, who painted the Assumption in the Baroncelli Chapel in the Santa Croce ; and the fourth, turn- ing his back, is David Ghirlandajo. ^^ These real personages are so managed that while they are not themselves actors, they do not interfere with the main action, but rather embellish and illustrate it, like the chorus in a Greek tragedy. ^^ Every single figure in this fine fresco is a study for manly character, dignified attitude, and easy grand drapery.'' STROZZI PALACE. Built by Majano; decorated by Filipino Lippi. OR SAN MICHELE CHURCH. Erected by Orcagna. Ground floor used as a church; upper floor was used as a storage for grain until 1569. Dante Society meets here now. Statues of saints, patrons of the different Guilds. In Orcagna 's shrine, the Madonna which replaced the famous one by Ugolino of Siera; Ghiberti's bronze statues of Stephen, Mathew and John ; statue of St. Peter, by Dona- tello ; statue of St. Luke, by John of Bologna ; statue of St. Mark, by Donatello, of which Michael Angelo said he never saw a more hon- 322 The Treasures of Florence. est face — it is also remarkable in its perspect- ive ; copy of Donatello 's St. George, the original having been removed to the Bargello for safety ; medallions, by Lnca della Robbia, for four of the Guilds; Verrocchio's Christ and St. Thomas; arms of the different Guilds in relief, by Luca della Robbia, are on the exterior. piTTi palace: Built by Brunelleschi in the Renaissance style. In the Boboli Gardens is a fountain by John of Bologna. PITTI GALLERY. * Of Fra Bartolommeo's works are the Mar- riage of St. Catherine, the Resurrection of our Lord — called Salvator Mundi; a Pieta, a Holy Family, and a St. Mark; Andrea del Sarto's Holy Family. By Raphael, the Madonna Granduco, the Madonna of the Chair — della Sedia ; the so- called Fornarina; the portrait of Maddelena Doni; portrait of Pope Julius — a copy of the one in the Uffizi; portrait of Leo X; the Temp- tation of St. Gerome, by Vasari; Horrors of War, by Rubens ; The Holy Family, by Albert- inelli; paintings by Leonardo da Vinci, Lippo Lippi, Perugino and the other noteworthy art- ists. Other famous galleries of the world may contain a larger collection of works, but the Pitti and the Uffizi combined rank first in the choice of works. 323 Florence. SANTO SPIRITO CHURCH. The masterpiece of Brunelleschi's art. After Lorenzo's death, Michael Angelo spent part of his time in the monastery of San Spirito, study- ing anatomy. CARMINE CHURCH. Frescoes by Filippino Lippi in chapel; mon- astery walls decorated by Masaccio, the first of Lippo Lippi 's masters; tomb of Masaccio and also of Fra Lippo Lippi. HOLY TRINITY CHURCH. Federighi Tomb, by Lnca della Robbia ; fres- coes by Ghirlandajo,in which we see the Palazzo Vecchio, as it was before its alterations in later years; in a chapel, a copy of Ghirlandajo's Nativity which took the place of one removed to the Accademia; monument to one of the Strozzi. The church was built in the middle of the 13th century in the Gothic style, and is at- tributed to Mccoli Pisano. OGNISSANTI CHURCH. Vespucci Chapel, decorated by Ghirlandajo; portrait of Amerigo Vespucci, and of Simonetta Vespucci; tomb of Simonetta Vespucci and of Botticelli; a painting of a Crucifix, by Giotto; a fresco, by Ghirlandajo ; a fresco of St. Augus- tine, by Botticelli ; over the doorway, the Coro- nation of the Virgin, by Luca della Robbia ; in 324 The Treasures of Florence. the reliquary, a treasure of the church — the robe worn by St. Francis at the time of the first ^^ Stigmata.'' CASA VESPUCCI. Now a hospital. church op the holy apostles. Built in the 11th century ; tabernacle by Luca della Eobbia. CHURCH OF the RECOLLECTS. In the cloisters, frescoes by Andrea del Sarto. MERCATO NUOVO. The principal market for gold and silk used to be held here ; the flower market is now here and here are sold the famous hats of Florentine straw. CASA GUIDI. Casa Guidi, the home of Mr. and Mrs. Brown- ing while they were in Florence. It is cele- brated as furnishing the title for Mrs. Brown- ing's poem, Casa Guidi Windows. The house is marked with a memorial tablet. CASA GUIDI WINDOWS. * * She came, whom Casa Guidi 's chambers knew, And know more proudly, an immortal, now; The air without a star was shivered through With the resistless radiance of her brow. And glimmering landscapes from the darkness grew. 325 Florence. Thin, pliantom-like ; and yet slie brought me rest, Unspoken words, an understood command Sealed weary lids with sleep, together pressed In clasping quiet wandering hand in hand, And smoothed the folded cloth above the breast. Now, looking through these windows, where the day Shines on a terrace splendid with the gold Of autumn shrubs, and green with glossy bay, Once more her face, re-made from dust, I hold In light so clear it cannot pass away: — The quiet brow ; the face so frail and fair For such a voice of song ; the steady eye. Where shone the spirit fated to outwear Its fragile house ; — and on her features lie The soft half-shadows of her drooping hair. Who could forget those features, having known! Whose memory do his kindling reverence wrong That heard the soft Ionian flute, whose tone Changed with the silver trumpet of her song? No sweeter airs from woman 's lips were blown. The tablet tells you, 'Here she wrote and died,' And grateful Florence bids the record stand : 326 The Treasures op Florence. Here bend Italian love and English pride Above her grave, — and one remoter land Free as her prayers could make it, at their side. ' ' — Bayard Taylor, ENGLISH CEMETERY. Here are the graves of Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Walter Savage Landor, and other noted people. It was in Florence that Landor wrote his Imaginary Conversations, and here he was buried in 1864. LANDOR. * * Come, Walter Savage Landor, come this way ; Step through the lintel low, with prose or verse, Tallest of tall men ; the early star And latest setting sun of great compeers; Through youth, through manhood, and extrem- est age. Strong at the root ; and at the top, blossoms Perennial. When culled the fields around Still calling up the great for wisest talk. Or singing clear some fresh, melodious stave. Not sickly-sweet, but like ripe autumn fruit, Of which not one, but all the senses taste. And leave uncoyed the dainty appetite. Great English master of poetic art, In these late times that dandle every muse, 327 Florence. Here mayst thou air all day thy eloquence, And I a never weary listener, If thou at eve wilt sing one witty song. Or chant some line of cadenced, classic hymn.'' — John Albee, LANDOR. ^^Like crown 'd athlete that in a race has run, And points his finger at those left behind. And follows on his way as now inclined. With joy and laughter in the glowing sun; And joys at that which he hath joyous done. And, like a child, will wanton with the wind, And pluck the flowers his radiant brows to bind, Ee-crown himself as conscious he hath won ; And still regardless of his fellow-men He follows on his road intent and fain To please himself, and caring not to gain The world's applause which he might seek in vain: A soldier, yet would, careless, sport and play And leave the reckoning for a distant day. ' ' — Alexander Hay Japp, IN MEMORY OF WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR. *^Back to the flower-town, side by side, The bright months bring. New-born, the bridegroom and the bride. Freedom and Spring. 328 The Treasures op Florence. The sweet land laughs from sea to sea, Fiirdfullof sun; All things come back to her, being free ; All things but one. In many a tender wheaten plot Flowers that were dead Live, and old suns revive ; but not That holier head. By this white wandering waste of sea. Far north, I hear One face shall never turn to me As once this year: Shall never smile and turn and rest On mine as there. Nor one most sacred hand be prest Upon my hair. I came as one whose thoughts half linger. Half run before ; The youngest to the boldest singer That England bore. I found him whom I shall not find Till all grief end. In holiest age our mightiest mind. Father and friend. But thou, if anything endure. If hope there be, spirit that man's life left pure, Man's death set free, 329 Florence. Not with disdain of days that were Look earthward now; Let dreams revive the reverend hair, The imperial brow; Come back in sleep, for in life Where thou art not We find none like thee. Time and strife And the world's lot Move thee no more; but love at least And reverent heart May move thee, royal and released Soul, as thou art. And thou, his Florence, to thy trust Eeceive and keep, Keep safe his dedicated dust. His sacred sleep. So shall thy lovers, come from far, Mix with thy name. As morning-star with evening-star. His faultless fame. ' ' — Algernon Charles Swinburne. THE CASCINE. **You remember down at Florence our Cascine Where the people on the feast-days walk and drive. And through the trees, long-drawn in many a green way, 'er-roofing hum and murmur like a hive. The river and the mountains look alive? 330 The Treasures of Florence. You remember the piazzone there, the stand- place Of carriages a-brim with Florence beauties, Who lean and melt to music, as the band plays, Or smile and chat with some one who afoot is. Or on horseback, in observance of male duties ? *Tis so pretty, in the afternoons of summer. So many gracious faces brought together ! Call it rout, or call it concert, they have come here, In the floating of the fan and of the feather, To reciprocate with beauty the fine weather. While the flower-girls offer nosegays (because they too Go with other sweets) at every carriage-door; Here, by shake of a white finger, signed away to Some next buyer, who sits buying score on score, Piling roses upon roses evermore. ' ' — Robert Browning. THE CERTOSA. It is a delightful drive from Florence through the Porta Romano to the Certosa, or Carthu- sian Monastery, situated on a hill covered with cypress and olive trees. The monastery was founded in 1341 by the monks of St. Bruno, who in 1086, established a severe religious order at Chartreuse, in France, where was until recently the Mother-house of the Order, La Grande Char- 331 Florence. treuse, taken by the French government from the monks. In England, the order is well known through its ^ * Charterhouse ' ' school. Only a few monks remain at the Certosa of Florence, and these continue to manufacture the beverage famous here as in France as Char- treuse wine, and can be purchased by the visit- ors of the monastery. The chapel is richly decorated; the tomb of the founder, done by Donatello, is in the crypt beneath the high altar. The cloister is decor- ated by Luca della Eobbia, and a Crucifixion by Albertinelli, is here. SAN MINIATO. Another beautiful driveway leads from Flor- ence to the heights of San Miniato, where is the Piazza Michael Angelo, with a copy of his David and where is the best vantage spot from which to view the city. * * On the bright enchanting plain. Fair Florence 'neath the sunshine lies. And towering high o 'er roof and fane. Her Duomo soars into the skies. * ' St. Miniato in the year 270 was beheaded and walked afterwards to the spot where the church of his name now stands. ^*And, climbing up to San Miniato 's height, Among the cypresses I made a nest For wandering fancy: down the shimmering west 332 The Treasures of Florence. The Arno slid in creeping coils of light : O'er Boboli's fan-like pines the city lay In tints that freshly blossomed on the sight, Enringed with olive orchards, thin and gray. Like moonlight falling in the lap of day. There sprang, before me, Giotto 's ivory tower ; There hung, a planet, Brunelleschi's dome: Of living dreams Val d 'Arno seemed the home ; From far Careggi's dim-seen laurel bower To Bellosguardo, smiling o'er the vale; And pomp and beauty and supremest power. Blending and brightening in their bridal hour, Made even the blue of Tuscan summers pale ! Immortal Masters ! Ye who drank this air And made it spirit, as the must makes wine. Be ye the intercessors of my prayer. Pure Saints of Art, around her holy shrine ! The purpose of your lives bestow on mine, — The child-like heart, the true, laborious hand And pious vision, — that my soul may dare One day to climb the summits where ye stand! Say, shall my memory walk in yonder street Beside our own, ye ever-living shades? Shall pilgrims come, gray men and pensive maids. To pluck this moss because it knew my feet, And forms of mine move o'er the poet's mind In thoughts that still to haunting music beat, And Love and Grief and Adoration find Their speech in pictures I shall leave behind?" — Bayard Taylor, 333 Florence. VILLA CRAWFORD. The scene of Boccaccio 's Decameron ; it is on the way to Fiesole. *^Here, by the lake, Boccaccio's fair brigade Beguiled the hours, and tale for tale repaid.'' — Walter Savage Landor. ARCETRI. The home of Galileo. VALLOMBROSA. Vallombrosa — literally *^ Shady Valley," so- called because of the abundance of trees — is about 15 miles east of Florence. It was the seat of a Benedictine Monastery which has been made famous by the poets, but is now used by the Italian government as a school of Forestry. It was visited by Dante, and is mentioned by Ariosto in his Orlando Furioso. Milton in his Paradise Lost commemorates it : ** Thick as autumnal leaves that strew the brooks In Vallombrosa, where Etrurian shades High over-arch 'd embower." The monastery contains a Cenacolo, or Last Supper, by Andrea del Sarto, which is said to rank only second to da Vinci's at Milan. 334 The Treasures of Florence. Wordsworth describes Ms visit there : **Vallombrosa — I longed in thy shadiest wood To slumber, reclined on the moss-covered floor. Fond wish that was granted at last, and the Flood, That lulled me to sleep bids me listen once more. Its murmur how soft as it falls down the steep, Near that Cell — yon sequestered Retreat high in air — Where our Milton was wont lonely vigils to keep For converse with God, sought through study and prayer. The monks still repeat the tradition with pride. And its truth who shall doubt? for his Spirit is here ; In the cloud-piercing rocks doth her grandeur abide ; In the pines pointing heavenward her beauty austere ; In the flower besprent meadows his genius we trace Turned to humbler delights, in which youth might confide. That would him fit help while prefiguring that Place Where, if Sin had not entered. Love never had died. 335 Florence. When, with life lengthened out came a desolate time, And darkness and danger had compassed him round. With a thought he would flee to these haunts of his prime And here once again a kind shelter be found. And let me believe that when nightly the Muse Did waft him to Sion, the glorified hill, Here, also, on some favored height, he would choose To wander, and drink inspiration at will. Vallombrosa! of thee I first heard in the page Of the holiest of Bards, and the name for my mind Had a musical charm, which the winter of age And the changes it brings had no power to unbind. And now, ye Miltonian shades ! under you I repose, nor am forced from sweet fancy to part. While your leaves I behold and the brooks they will strew. And the realized vision is clasped to my heart." Mrs. Browning describes it thus : **0 waterfalls And forests ! sound and silence ! mountains bare That leap up peak by peak and catch the palls Of purple and silver mist to rend and share 336 The Treasures of Florence. With one another, at electric calls Of life in the sunbeams, — till we cannot dare Fix your shapes, count your number! we must think Your beauty and your glory helped to fill The cup of Milton's soul so to the brink. He never more was thirsty when God 's will Had shattered to his sense the last chain-link By which he had drawn from Nature 's visible The fresh well-water. Satisfied by this. He sang of Adam 's paradise and smiled Remembering Vallombrosa. Therefore is The place divine to English man and child. And pilgrims leave their souls here in a kiss.'' — Elizabeth Barrett Browning, **But, how much beauty of another kind is here, when, on a fair, clear morning, we look from the summit of a hill on Florence! See where it lies before us in a sunlighted valley, bright with the winding Arno, and shut in by swelling hills; its domes, and towers, and pal- aces, rising from the rich country in a glitter- ing heap, and shining in the sun like gold ! ** Magnificently stern and somber are the streets of beautiful Florence ; and the strong old piles of building make such heaps of shadow, on the ground and in the river, that there is another and a different city of rich forms and fancies, always lying at our feet. * * Prodigious palaces, constructed for defence, 337 Florence. with small distrustful windows heavily barred, and walls of great thickness formed of huge masses of rough stone, frown, in their old sulky state, on every street. In the midst of the city — in the Piazza of the Grand Duke, adorned with beautiful statues and the Fountain of Nep- tune — rises the Palazzo Vecchio, with its enor- mous overhanging battlements, and the Great Tower that watches over the whole city. In its courtyard — ^worthy of the Castle of Otranto in its ponderous gloom — is a massive staircase that the heaviest wagon and the stoutest team of horses might be driven up. Within it is a great saloon, faded and tarnished in its stately decorations, and mouldering by grains, but recording yet, in pictures on its walls, the tri- umphs of the Medici and the wars of the old Florentine people. * * The prison is hard by, in an adjacent court- yard of the building — a foul and dismal place, where some men are shut up close, in small cells like ovens ; and where others look through bars and beg; where some are playing draughts, and some are talking to their friends, who smoke, the while, to purify the air; and some are buying wine and fruit of women vendors; and all are squalid, dirty, and vile to look at. i i i They are merry enough, Signore, ' says the jailer. *They are all blood-stained here,' he adds, indicating with his hand, three-fourths of the buildings. 338 The Treasures op Florence. ** Before the hour is out, an old man, eighty years of age, quarreling over a bargain with a young girl of seventeen, stabs her dead, in the market-place full of bright flowers, and is brought in a prisoner, to swell the number. ** Among the four old bridges that span the river, the Ponte Vecchio — that bridge which is covered with the shops of jewelers and gold- smiths — is a most enchanting feature of the scene. The space of one house in the center is left open, the view beyond is shown as in a frame, and that precious glimpse of sky and water and rich buildings, shining so quietly among the huddled roofs and gables of the bridge, is exquisite. *^ Above it, the Gallery of the Grand Duke crosses the river. It was built to connect the two great palaces by a secret passage; and it takes its jealous course among the streets and houses, with true despotism: going where it lists, and spurning every obstacle away, before it. * * The Grand Duke has a worthier secret pas- sage through the streets, in his black robe and hood, as a member of the Compagnia della Mi- sericordia, which brotherhood includes all ranks of men. **If an accident takes place, their office is to raise the sufferer, and bear him tenderly to the hospital. If a fire breaks out, it is one of their functions to repair to the spot and render 339 Florence. their assistance and protection. It is, also, among their commonest offices, to attend and console the sick; and they neither receive money, nor eat, nor drink in any house they visit for this purpose. Those who are on duty for the time are called together, on a moment's notice, by the tolling of the great bell of the Tower; and it is said that the Grand Duke has been seen, at the sound, to rise from his seat at table, and quietly withdraw to attend the sum- mons. **In this other large Piazza, where an irregu- lar kind of market is held, and stores of old iron and other small merchandise are set out on stalls, or scattered on the pavement, are grouped together the Cathedral with its great dome, the beautiful Italian Gothic Tower, the Campanile, and the Baptistery with its wrought bronze doors. And here, a small untrodden square in the pavement, is 'the Stone of Dante,' where (so runs the story) he was used to bring his stool, and sit in contemplation. I wonder was he ever, in his bitter exile, with- held from cursing the very stones in the streets of Florence, the ungrateful, by any kind remem- brance of this old musing-place, and its associa- tion with gentle thoughts of little Beatrice ! * * The chapel of the Medici, the Good and Bad Angels of Florence ; the church of Santa Croce where Michael Ang^lo lies buried, and where every stone in the cloisters is eloquent on great 340 The Treasures op Florence. men's deaths; innumerable chnrclies, often masses of unfinished heavy brickwork extei;- nally, but solemn and serene within, arrest our lingering steps, in strolling through the city. * ^ In keeping with the tombs among the cloist- ers, is the Museum of Natural History, famous throughout the world for its preparations in wax; beginning with models of leaves, seeds, plants, inferior animals, and gradually ascend- ing, through separate organs of the human frame, up to the whole structure of that wonder- ful creation, exquisitely presented, as in recent death. * ^ Few admonitions to our frail mortality can be more solemn, and more sad, or strike home upon the heart, as the counterfeits of Youth and Beauty that are lying there, upon their beds, in their last sleep. * * Beyond the walls the whole sweet Valley of the Arno, the convent at Fiesole, the Tower of Galileo, Boccaccio's house, old villas and re- treats ; innumerable spots of interest, all glow- ing in a landscape of surpassing beauty steeped in the richest light ; are spread before us. Eeturning from so much brightness, how solemn and how grand the streets again, with their great, dark, mournful palaces and many legends : not of siege, and war, and might, and Iron Hand alone, but of the triumphant growth of peaceful Arts and Sciences. ^^What light is shed upon the world, at this 341 Florence. day, from amidst these rugged Palaces of Flor- ence ! Here, open to all comers, in their beauti- ful and calm retreats, the ancient Sculptors are immortal, side by side with Michael Angelo, Canova, Titian, Rembrandt, Raphael, poets, his- torians, philosophers — those illustrious men of history, beside whom its crowned heads and harnessed warriors, show so poor and small, and are so soon forgotten. **Here, the imperishable part of noble minds survives, placid and equal, when strongholds of assault and defense are overthrown; when the tyranny of the many, or the few, or both, is but a tale; when Pride and Power are so much cloistered dust. * ' The fire within the stern streets, and among the massive Palaces and Towers, kindled by rays from Heaven, is still burning brightly, when the flickering of war is extinguished and the household fires of generations have de- cayed; and thousands upon thousands of faces, rigid with the strife and passion of the hour, have faded out of the old squares and public haunts, while the nameless Florentine lady, pre- served from oblivion by a painter's hand, yet lives on, in enduring grace and youth.'' — Charles Dickens, * * Of all the fairest cites of the earth None is so fair as Florence. * * * Search within, 342 The Treasures of Florence. Without ; all is enchantment ! 'Tis the past Contending with the present ; and in turn Each has the mastery. '* — Rogers, **But Arno wins us to the fair white walls, Where the Etrurian Athens claims and keeps A softer feeling for her fairy halls. Girt by her theater of hills, she reaps Her corn and wine and oil ; and plenty leaps To laughing life with her redundant horn. Along the banks where smiling Arno sweeps, Was modern Luxury of Commerce born And buried Learning redeemed to a new life.'' — Byron, **Ah, lovely Florence! Never city wore So shining robes as I on thee bestowed.: For all the rapture of my being flowed Around thy beauty, filling, flooding o 'er The banks of Arno and the circling hills With light no wind of sunset ever spills From out its saffron seas ! Once, and no more, Life's voyage touches the enchanted shore! ***** From the warm bodies Titian loved to paint. Where life still palpitates in languid glow; From EaphaePs heads of Virgin and of Saint, Bright with divinest message ; from the slow And patient grandeur Leonardo wrought ; From soft, effeminate Carlo Dolce, faint With vapid sweetness, to the Titan thought That shaped the dreams of Michael Angelo. 343 Florence. From each and all, through varied speech, I drew One sole, immortal revelation. They No longer mocked me with the hopeless view Of power that with them died, but gave anew The hope of power that cannot pass away While Beauty lives : the passion of the brain Demands possession, nor shall yearn in vain : Its nymph, though coy, did never yet betray." — Bayard Taylor, FLORENCE. * ' The brightness of the world, thou once free. And always fair, rare land of courtesy! Florence ! with thy Tuscan fields and hills. And famous Arno, fed with all the rills, Thou brightest star of star-bright Italy! Eich, ornate, populous, all treasures thine. The golden corn, the olive, and the vine. Fair cities, gallant mansions, castles old, And forests, where beside his leafy hold The sullen boar hath heard the distant horn, And whets his tusks against the gnarled thorn ; Palladian palace with its storied halls ; Fountains, where Love lies listening to their falls ; Gardens, where flings the bridge its airy span. And Nature makes her happy home with man ; Where many a gorgeous flower is duly fed With its own rill, on its own spangled bed, 344 The Treasures of Florence. And wreathes the marble urn, or leans its head, A mimic mourner, that with veil withdrawn Weeps liquid gems, the presents of the dawn ; Thine all delights, and every muse is thine ; And more than all, the embrace and intertwine Of all with all in gay and twinkling dance ! ' ' — Samuel Taylor Coleridge. ^*How looked Florence? Fair as when Beatrice was only ten : Nowise altered, just the same Marble city, mountain frame. Turbid river, cloudless sky. As in days when you and I Roamed its sunny streets, apart, Ignorant of each other's heart. Little knowing that our feet Slow were moving on to meet, And that we should find, at last Kindship in a common past. But a shadow falls athwart All her beauty, all her art For alas ! I vainly seek Outstretched hand and kindling cheek. Such as, in the bygone days, Sweetened, sanctified her ways. When, as evening belfries chime, I to Bellosguardo climb. Vaguely thinking there to find Faces that still haunt my mind, 345 Florence. Though the doors stand open wide, No one waits for me inside ; Not a voice comes forth to greet, As of old, my nearing feet. So I stand without, and stare. Wishing you were here to share Void too vast alone to bear. To Eicorboli I wend : But where now the dear old friend, Heart as open as his gate, Song, and jest, and simple state? They who loved me all are fled ; Some are gone, and some are dead. So, though young and lovely be Florence still, it feels to me, Thinking of the days that were. Like a marble sepulchre." — Alfred Austin, THE END. 346 INDEX. Page Accademia 303 Albertinelli 226, 230 Albigensian Heresy 31 Alfieri 186, 293 Ammanati, Bartolommeo 268 Angelico, Fra 136, 141, 145 Annunziata, Piazza 301 Annunziata, Church of the Most Holy 301 Arcetri 274, 334 Arnolfo di Cambio 42, 47, 48, 49, 132 Arqua , 100, 102 Bacon, Roger 29 Badia 24, 25, 299 Bandinelli 285, 286 Baptistery 19, 20, 305 Barbadori, Palace 135, 298 Bardi 294 Bardi, Chapel 294 Bargello 25, 153, 300 Baroncelli, Chapel 295, 317 Bartolommeo, Fra 225, 226 Beatrice Portinari 75, 83 Benci 133, 160 Benedictines 24, 25 Bigallo 129, 307 Bianchi 51, 53 Black Death 105 Boboli Gardens 136 Boccaccio 103, 127 347 Index. Page Borgo Allegro 36 Botticelli 217, 225 Brancacci, Chapel 147, 148, 149 Brienne, Walter de 130 Brunelleschi 20, 21, 135, 151, 152, 153 Buonarroti, Casa 299 Byzantine Art 37 Campanile 42, 44 Capella, Bianca 286 Careggi 199 Carmine (See Santa Maria del Carmine) Casa Guidi 325 Casa Machiavelli 288 Cascine 330 Cellini, Benvenuto. 255, 257 Cemetery, English 327 Certaldo ; 127 Certosa 331 Charles of Anjou 35 Charles of Valois 52, 53 Cherubini 293 Cimabue 35, 38, 132 Copernicus 281 Copernican System 278, 280 Crawford, Villa 105, 334 Dante 22, 51, 83 Da Vega 29 Decameron 105, 127, 129 Del Principe 198 Divine Comedy 59, 63 Dominicans 32, 141, 297 Donati, Gemma 22 Donatello 151, 154 Duccio 35 348 Index. Page Duomo, Santa Maria del Fiore 18, 42, 306 Duns Scotus 29 Eleanor of Toledo 136, 260, 287 Escorial 21 Fedi 287 Fiammetta 40 Fiesole Firenze 18 Florin 17 Florinus 18 Foundlings' Hospital (See Spedale degla Innocent!) Franciscans 32, 129, 141, 297 Gaddi, Gaddo 295, 305, 306 Gaddi, Taddeo 48, 132, 295 Galileo 273-281 Gattemalata Ghibellines 45, 51, 52 Ghiberti 20, 21, 151 Ghirlandajo 22, 161-163 Giotto 38-44, 132 Goldsmiths 152 Gonf alonieri 130 Gothic Architecture 41 Guelfs 45, 51, 52 Guilds 46, 48 Holiday 76 Holy Apostles, Church of 325 Holy Trinity, Church 324 Inquisition 275, 276, 278 Joanna of Austria 286 John of Bologna 260, 267, 268 John XXIII, Anti-Pope 305 Laura 88-102 Laurentian Library 305 349 Index. Page Lippi, Fra Filippo 145-147 Lippi, Filippino ; 147 Loggia di Bigallo 132, 307 Loggia dei Lanzi 47, 287 Lung' Arno Amerigo Vespucci 162 Machiavelli 197, 198 Magliabechiana Library 288 Majano 262, 286, 308, 322 Marzocco 153, 285 Masaccio 147-150 Medici de^ 21, 25, 129-137 Medici de', Allesandro 258 Medici de', Catherine 167, 258 Medici de', Cosimo, II Vecchio 131, 134 Medici de', Cosimo I, the Grand Duke 260-262 Medici de', Ferdinand I, Grand Duke 262-267 Medici de', Giovanni, Pope Leo X 167 Medici de', Giovanni 130, 135 Medici de', Giuliano 217 Medici de', Giulio, Pope Clement VII 167 Medici de ', Lorenzo, the Magnificent 167 Medici de', Lorenzo, Duke of Urbino. . . 167, 168, 172 Medici de ', Lorenzo 131 Medici de', Marie 136 Medici de', Salvestro 130 Medici de'. Chapel 294 Mercato Nuovo 325 Michael Angelo Buonarroti 21, 135, 165-190 Michelozzo 135, 136 Mino da Fiesole 158, 159 Misericordia 32, 129 Mona Lisa 232, 233 Museum of the Duomo 307 Museum of Natural History 307 350 Index. National Museum (See Bargello) Neri, Party 51, 53, 130 Octava rima 88 Ognissanti, Church Opera, Italian 136 Oratorios 269 Oratory, Brompton 270 Orcagna 47-50, 129, 132 Or San Miehele 48-50, 322 Palazzo Vecchio 47 Palmieri, Villa 105 Pandolfini, Palace 303 Pazzi 298 Pazzi, Palace 298 Pazzi, Chapel 295 Pazzi, dei. Convent of Santa Maria Maddelena . . 298 Perugino 236 Peruzzi, Chapel 294 Petrarch 87-102 Piazza della Signoria 47, 285 Pisano, Andrea 19, 20, 132, 307 Pisano, Nicolo 20 Pistoia 52 Pitti 135 Pitti Palace 135, 136, 323 Plague, Great 105 Podesta 25 Poet Laureate 91 Politiano 201 Ponte Vecchio '. .182, 287 Priori 46, 53 Quaratesi Palace 135 Raphael 235-248 Ravenna 63, 64 351 Index. Page Recollects, Church of the 325 Renaissance 88, 91, 92, 103 Republic 25, 45- 47 Riccardi Palace 136, 304 Riccardi Chapel 294 Ringhieri 33 Robbia della, Andrea 157, 158 Robbia della, Giovanni 158 Robbia della, Luca 154-157 Romola 127, 209 Rossini 293 Rucellai Chapel 308 Rucellai Madonna 308 San Filippo Neri, Church 273 San Lorenzo, Church. 20, 131, 304 San Marco, Church 302 San Marco, Monastery 136, 302 San Martino, Church 22 San Miniato 24, 174, 332 Santa Croce, Church 41, 65, 293-297 Santa Maria del Carmine, Church 147, 324 Santa Maria Novella, Church. .36, 39, 40, 124, 302-322 Santo Spirito, Church 135, 324 Sarto del, Andrea 249-253 Sasso di Dante 73, 74, 340 Savonarola 136, 269, 286 Servites 33 Signoria 47 Signorelli 176 Sonnet 88 Spanish Chapel 40 Spedale degli Innocenti 302 St. Alexius 33 St. Ambrose 21 352 Index. Page St. Ann 312-321 St. Anthony of Padua 29 St. Antonino 136, 302 St. Barbara 29 St. Benedict 24 St. Bonaventura 29 St. Clare 29 St. Dominic 31, 141 St. Elizabeth of Hungary 29 St. Ferdinand of Spain 29 St. Francis of Assisi 25-28, 141 St. Joachim 314-321 St. John the Baptist IS St. John Capistrano 29 St. Juliana 33 St. Lawrence 21 St. Louis of France 29, 35 St. Louis of Toulouse 29, 35 St. Martin 22, 23 St. Philip Benizzi 33 St. Philip Martyr 307 St. Philip Neri 269-273 St. Reparata 17 St. Thomas Aquinas 29 St. Zanobius 21, 22 Stuart, Charles Edward 293 Stuart, Mary 134 Strozzi 147, 262 Strozzi Chapel 147, 262, 308 Strozzi Palace 262, 322 Tornabuoni 160 Uffizi Palace 136, 288 Ugolino of Siena 49 Vallombrosa 334 353 Index. Page Valois, Charles of 52, 53 Vasari 186, 257, 258 Vaucluse 87- 91 Verrocchio 159 Vespucci, Amerigo 161, 162, 324 Vespucci ( Casa) 325 Vespucci, Marco 161, 219 Vespucci, Simonetta 161, 217, 219, 220, 225, 324 Vinci da, Leonardo 159, 231-235 Vita Nuova 76, 81 Vittoria Colonna 178-184 Willa, Countess 24 354 RETURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT TO*^ 202 Main Library LOAN PERIOD 1 HOME USE 2 3 4 5 6 ALL BOOKS AAAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 1 -month loans may be renewed by calling 642-3405 6-month loans may be recharged by bringing books to Circulation Desk Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date DUE AS STAMPED BELOW FEB 2 6 IQfll Jifc*' a o lyoi -«• mm fEBi7*8i u UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY FORM NO. DD6, 60m, 3/80 BERKELEY, CA 94720 ®s ^!^