Part 11

Dante's house stands in the Via Dante, to reach which one leaves the piazza at the north-east corner, passing the back of the Badia on the way thither. The Badia was the Church of the Benedictines, and is built in the shape of a Greek cross. It is notable for the grandest coffered wooden roof in Italy. Just above the frieze which runs round the top of the walls, a fine series of well-carved brackets carries the first portion of the roof--a flat space beautifully ornate with good arabesques. Deep-set bosses in recesses circulate round the carving beyond this, until they centre in a recess so deeply set that it almost becomes a miniature dome. Heavy brackets support and carry the outward thrust. The miniature dome takes the form of a Greek cross, and from it the whole design springs in a very symmetrical manner. Such a massive wooden ceiling speaks volumes for the constructive art of the day.

Opposite the Badia stands the Bargello, or Palazzo del Podestà. In its courtyard is the well-known outside staircase that, sketched "to death," is to be seen represented in almost every shop in Florence. The palace is the national museum, and among its grand collections the work of the della Robbia family can best be studied. Florence is such a treasure-house in every way that one might wander on from church to palace, and museum to gallery for a year, and then be barely acquainted with what lies behind its walls.

Florence, too, was the home of the Renaissance, and although Giotto preceded the great master of early Renaissance, Brunelleschi, his famous Campanile is more classic in style than Gothic. The accompanying sketch was made towards twilight when a day's heavy rain had cleared off. The general impression one carries away of the beautiful bell tower is that of a white mass rising majestically above the congested traffic of the noisy street below. The year 1334 saw the commencement of Giotto's design. His death, however, took place when the work had but reached the first storey of the five. Taddeo Gaddi and Francesco Talenti carried it on, and to the latter are due the windows of the upper storeys. Small lozenges in the lowest depict the Development of Civilised Man from the Creation. Above these is a series of sculptures, and in niches yet higher up are the Prophets, Evangelists, Patriarchs and Sibyls. Giotto intended to add a spire to the heavy balcony which projects from the top of the last storey. The whole structure is cased in white, pink and green marble, and thus harmonises with the exterior of the Duomo which it adjoins. Had the spire been added, the _campanile_ would not have the rather top-heavy appearance it has when seen from some distance away.

The cathedral is a building that stands on the site of a very early church dedicated to S. Salvadore. Appropriately named Sta Maria del Fiore, the construction was commenced in 1298 from the designs of Arnolfo di Cambio. Many hands worked for nearly two centuries at Arnolfo's designs, and continually altered them. On the whole, whatever its merits, the building cannot be said to be an architectural success. The façade, completed as recently as 1887 by Emilio di Fabris, is perhaps the most fortunate feature. The Gothic windows on the north side are certainly very beautiful. The mass of the huge dome seen from the corner of the Via del Orviolo piles extremely well above the domes of the apse and south transept. But most of the good points of the exterior are lost in the "noisy" pattern of the different coloured marble panels, which, like those in Giotto's _campanile_, encase the whole building.

The interior is vast and empty, and the dull grey colour that covers the walls is almost worse than whitewash. Four immense bays constitute either side of the nave. The heavy piers that support the arches would be better without the ugly caps above the capitals. There is a gallery above with pointed arches, and four circular windows on each side form the clerestory. The best portions of the interior are the two aisles. The glass in the windows of these, although almost obscured by dust and cobwebs, is very lovely. The interior of the great dome was painted by Vasari and Zuccaro, but reveals no beauties of design. The High Altar is situated beneath this, and the choir stalls which are around are enclosed by a high marble screen. Under the altar, in a fine bronze casket, lie the remains of S. Zenobius, who was bishop of Florence at the end of the fourth century. The apse of the cathedral consists of five chapels; the middle one is dedicated to the saint. Behind the High Altar is a fine, though unfinished _Pietà_, the last work commenced by Michael Angelo. He intended it for his own tomb, but died before it was completed. There are many things of value in both the Sagrestia della Mese, the beautiful bronze doors of which are by Michelozzo, and the Sagrestia Vecchia, over the door of which is one of Lucca della Robbia's very best works. It is true that with oft-repeated visits the vast building grows on one, but, however much its size may impress, it cannot be called a landmark in Italian architecture.

Close by these two structures and due west of the cathedral façade, in the middle of the Piazza del Duomo, stands the Baptistery. Its eight walls were covered with marble by Arnolfo di Cambio some time after the west door had been removed and the rectangular space for the altar constructed inside. The three doors that remain are, with the lintels, superb examples in bronze of the Renaissance period. The twenty panels which depict the life of S. John the Baptist on the south door are the work of Andrea Pisano. At the base of one lintel two nude male figures carry children at a vintage festival; at the base of the other are two female figures, amidst a cluster of corn stalks. Andrea Pisano has almost excelled himself in the exquisite foliage which grows up both posts. Above the door is a bronze group in which S. John kneels to receive the stroke from the executioner's sword, while an angel holds up a hand shielding the sight from her eyes. The East door by Ghiberti contains prophets and sibyls in niches between the ten panels that illustrate episodes of the Old Testament. The third door is by the same hand. Its twenty panels of Gospel history are surrounded by exquisite foliage, amidst which snails and beetles crawl and bees suck honey, while here and there the fascinating head of an impudent little frog peeps out.

The interior does not compare with Pisa's Baptistery. Granite columns with gilt Corinthian capitals support a triforium gallery composed of round arches with Ionic pillars. The square lights of the clerestory, which alternate with mosaic panels, are behind another gallery that leans inwards. From this springs the mosaic-covered dome. Up to the year 1571 a large font stood in the centre, directly under the opening in the middle of the dome, which until then had no cupola. It was moved in that year by Francesco I. for the baptism of his son! An act of sacrilege which speaks volumes for the absolute power of the autocratic grand dukes of those days.

It is very interesting to examine the almost interminable series of portraits that hang on the walls of the long passage connecting the Ufizzi and Pitti Palaces. This passage crosses the river, and may be seen in the illustration of the Ponte Vecchio, with its square barred windows looking up the river. It is above the jewellers' shops--a favourite haunt of the tourist--that hang so airily like spiders over the water and crowd the old bridge. Amongst this extraordinary collection of portraits of the Medici and their collaterals, may be seen one of our own Charles II., Eleanor of Toledo, wife of Cosimo I., and Catherine de Medici, whose sly eyes, cunning and cruel mouth in no way belie her character. All the reigning grand dukes are here, and not one of them can be said, if these are faithful portraits, to have a really open honest countenance. To judge by their physiognomies, they ruled by brute force and craft. However, there are bronze figures of two of the race who in metal appear more like noblemen than these travesties in paint. Indeed when one sees the gilded figures of Ferdinand I. and Cosimo II. standing over their tombs in the Capella Medicea, we feel they were men of the great race that made Florence famous throughout the civilised world.

The Capella Medicea stands at the back of the fine church of S. Lorenzo. It is a gloomy octagonal building with a dome, and lined throughout in a dull and heavy scheme, with most costly marble. The interior of the dome is painted and gilded. Six members of the great family lie here in their sarcophagi. The remains of two more rest in the Sacristy. But it is not in connection with any reverence for the scions of the Medicean House that our footsteps are drawn hither. No, the little sacristy is crowded all day with those who come to see the work of Michael Angelo. Beneath the statue on the tomb of Giuliano de Medici are the colossal figures of Day and Night. These two wonderful creations are surpassed by Dawn and Twilight on the tomb of Lorenzo, a grandson of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and father of Catherine de Medici. His well-known seated figure is on the tomb. More simple than these is the beautiful, but unfinished, group of the Virgin and Child. The little altar, too, is a masterpiece of simplicity by the same great hand.

To the church of S. Lorenzo is attached the celebrated Laurentian Library, which contains the most valuable collection of MSS. in Italy, the Vatican alone excepted. Among these is the seventh-century MS. of the Vulgate Bible, written by Ceolfrid Abbot of Jarrow. At the corner of the Piazza de S. Lorenzo is a fountain surmounted by a statue of Giovanni delle Bande Nere, leader of the "Black Hand," whose son became the Grand Duke Cosimo I. Opposite this fountain is the magnificent palace of the Medici, the Palazzo Riccardi. From its beautiful _cortile_, with reliefs by Donatello, a fine staircase leads up to the big hall that has a ceiling painted by Luca Giordano. The palace was built by Michelozzo for Cosimo, who lavished his wealth to such an extent that the title he acquired of _Pater Patriæ_ was perhaps no misnomer. By the same profuse expenditure his grandson Lorenzo became known as Lorenzo il Magnifico. The family of Medici appears in the chronicles of Florence towards the end of the twelfth century; but the first member to lay claim to any distinction was Salvestro, who took a prominent part in the revolt of the _Ciompi_ in 1378. The leader of this insurrection was Michele di Landi, a _ciompo_ or wool-carder. Giovanni, the banker, amassed the great wealth which enabled his son Cosimo to carry out his ambitions.

Apart from the Capella Medicea the church of S. Croce may be looked upon as the Westminster Abbey of Florence. In it is the tomb of the great master who created "Dawn and Twilight." The monument to Michael Angelo Buonarotti is the work of Vasari. Alas! one cannot but lament that the irony of Fate has ordained the resting-place of genius should stand against a wall on which are painted red curtains! Not only red curtains, but a hideous red canopy with gold tassels drawn aside by vulgar little abominations in the shape of fat cherubs. For once, one longs for the whitewash brush. The cenotaph of Dante is placed close to the beautiful Renaissance tomb of Leonardo Bruni. The recumbent figure of the diplomatist lies stretched out on a slab borne by eagles, and represents real repose in a marvellous manner. The red brick floor of the church is almost covered with tomb slabs, some still in good relief, others worn flat. Among them is that of John Ketterick, Bishop of Exeter, who died in Florence in 1419 when on an embassy for his sovereign.

The airy interior of S. Croce is very fine. Slender octagonal columns of a russet hue bear pointed arches with Italian-Gothic capitals. The aisles have wooden roofs. The glass in the windows is good; and the chapels at the east end and in the transepts are covered with most interesting frescoes by Giotto, Taddeo and Agnolo Gaddi and others. S. Croce is still served by the Black Conventuals, a sub-order of S. Francis. The cloisters attached to the monastery were designed by Arnolfo di Cambio, and through them one reaches the Capella Pazzi, one of Brunelleschi's best buildings. The fine portico with its colonnade of Ionic columns has a frieze of cherubs attributed to Donatello. The entrance to the cloisters is from the Piazza S. Croce, the buildings on the south side of which are typical of old Florence. The upper storeys of these grey-brown walls overhang and are supported by huge wooden cantilevers. One house, the Palazzo di Niccolo dell' Antela, is covered with allegorical paintings by Giovanni da S. Giovanni, and on it is a white marble disc that marked the goal in the game of _calcio_. The Piazza, which is one of the largest in the city, was in bygone days the public games-ground.

Another fine church of one of the great preaching Orders is S. Maria Novella, which stands in the piazza of the same name, not far from the railway station. The façade is a very clever adaptation by the genius who planned the transformation of "Il Tempio" in Rimini, Leo Battista Alberti. In S. Maria Novella he fitted Renaissance ideas to the earlier Gothic construction of the arcades and lower portions of the buildings. Like all Dominican churches the nave is disproportionately large, built always thus to accommodate the great congregations who flocked to hear the sermon; and so that all could hear, the pulpit was placed nearer the west than the east end. In the sixteenth century Vasari altered the interior and took away the marble screen that divided the conventual from the public part of the church. It stood where a couple of steps run right across the church at the fourth bay of the nave. This is lofty, with a groined vault and pointed arches. The transepts have lateral chapels and the choir is very shallow. One of these chapels is that of the Rucellai family, whose coat of arms with an inflated sail has been used with as good an effect by Alberti in the decoration of the façade as the Malatesta coat at Rimini, where it will be remembered the little elephants play so important a part in his scheme. In this chapel is the famous panel, the so-called Cimabue's "Madonna," which some critics attribute to Duccio da Siena. Speaking personally, however, I failed to discover the greenish undertones that are a feature in Duccio's work. The story tells us that when the picture left Cimabue's studio it was hailed by the people in the streets with great admiration and holy fervour. Attached to the west wall of the church are the cloisters. The Chiostro Verde, so called from the greenish colour of its frescoes, contains the Spanish chapel. One can here spend a very instructive morning examining the fine mural decorations that cover the walls. The Chiostro Grande is now a military gymnasium; but the upper part is devoted to the Institution for Deaf Mutes and the Society for Repressing Beggars. Many useful articles can here be purchased that are made by the very poor. Tourists, make a note!

There is another useful institution, and one perhaps that is much better known. The Spedale degli Innocenti, or Foundling Hospital, which admits infants without any inquiry, and when the children are old enough boards them out in peasant families, where they are trained to earn a livelihood. The hospital is the work of Brunelleschi. In the spandrils of the _loggia_ are the medallions of infants in blue and white by Andrea della Robbia, reproductions of which hang on many a wall throughout the civilised world.

Not far off is the monastery of S. Marco, the cloistered courts of which once ran red with the blood of the monks. Fra Angelico's intensely religious frescoes in the monastic cells surely helped to inspire the brethren to defend their home by force of arms against those who were determined to eradicate every vestige of their beloved Savonarola. A few relics of this great democrat are still to be seen in his cell. The writing-desk he used, a book of commentaries in his own minute hand, his crucifix and other personal objects, remain as silent witnesses of the fierce struggles in a mind brought to the lowest depths of despair and well-nigh prostrate when the last act was accomplished in the Piazza della Signoria.

Of the many great Florentine palaces the two that hold the incomparable collections of pictures are the best known. The Uffizi stands on one side of the river, the Pitti on the other. Emulating the lavish expenditure of their rivals, the Medici, the Pitti family employed Brunelleschi and Fancelli to erect a building which should outshine all the Medicean palaces in Florence. So much was spent on it that eventually the family were ruined, and Fate, that so often plays with the over-ambitious, ordained that their rivals should step in and purchase the huge building. The Grand-dukes of the Medici took up their residence in the building, part of which is now the Royal Palace. From the beautiful Boboli Gardens at the back, a very good view is obtained of the cathedral and Giotto's Campanile, with Fiesole and the mountains in the north rising beyond. But if we wish for a comprehensive impression of Florence as she lies in the valley of the Arno, we must ascend the hill on the top of which the church of S. Miniato al Monte stands. Beneath the cypress trees at our feet the classic stream, crossed by its famous bridges, winds away in the direction of the Monti Pisani. The great dome of the Cathedral seems almost out of proportion with the lesser landmarks around it. More than ever does one wish to see the spire that Giotto designed to finish his grand bell-tower. And as the eye wanders over roofs and embattled walls, the mind goes back to Medicean days, ignoring for once the utilitarian vandalism that has carried the noisy tramcar through the intricacies of the maze below us in desecration of the memorials of a great age.

PERUGIA

In the vicinity of Perugia many remains of Etruscan civilisation have come to light, and part of the old Etruscan city walls still stand. On top of the huge blocks of stone of which they are composed one may also see the defensive superstructure added by the Romans, and above this the red brick of a later date. Wandering in the older parts of the city, where the houses are terraced on the steep hill-slopes and the narrow streets, often burrowing under them, wind sinuously in and out, one is carried right back without an effort into mediæval times. Neither does it require any effort to picture the sanguinary faction fights between the great Perugian families, the Oddi and Baglioni. Niccolò Pisano's last work, the figures on the fountain by the steps of the Cathedral, and the unfinished wall of the building itself, are to-day just as they were in the fifteenth century when these same steps ran red with blood in the accomplishment of the diabolical plot which wiped out a whole family, save one. So tired of these conflicts were the more law-abiding Perugians after this deed, or so surfeited with blood, that the might of the Church Militant was called in to put an end to all distracting feuds. The advent of Pope Paul III. was looked upon at the time as a real deliverance; but the crafty Pontiff, knowing the hornet's nest he came into, was sagacious enough to build for himself a fortress-palace in an impregnable position. This, the Rocca Paolina, stood partly on the ground at the end of the Corso Vannucci where a big hotel is now, and on the garden space in front of it. The visitor to Perugia can never forget the incomparable view from the wall of this garden; nor wonder, when he looks over the veritable precipice beneath it, that the Baglioni, whose palace was demolished to make way for Paul's fortress, could hold in terror the rest of Perugia from the security afforded by their own walls. Perugia is like an octopus, with a central hill on which the Cathedral is situated, and from which long feelers stretch out in all directions. A statue in a public garden at the end of one of these feelers, or, more correctly speaking, promontories, commemorates the expulsion of the Swiss Papal Guard by General Fanti in 1860. The city then joined the newly formed kingdom of Italy and made an end of the Church's supremacy by demolishing the Rocca Paolina.

It is rather extraordinary that when the strife between the nobles of Perugia was at its height art was in the most flourishing condition. Fashion, or perhaps the hall-mark of the "gentleman" of those days, dictated that he should patronise art. We see this in the records of all the great families of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; and however bloodthirsty and revengeful they were amongst themselves, they had this one great merit. And so we find that while the Oddi were slaying the Baglioni, Perugino, Pinturicchio, Raphael, and Signorelli were all at work in Umbria, where one half of the people seem to have given up their lives to bloodshed and the other half to the contemplation of sweet-faced Madonnas and paintings of religious fervour.

In the middle of this ancient city stands its Cathedral, but, alas! with no redeeming architectural feature, either outside or within. The exterior reminds one of the tale of the man who, having made a little money, built a house like a cube with windows, telling his friends that when he could afford it he would have the architecture put on. All that can be said about its outer walls is that if the design of pink marble quatrefoil slabs had been carried out and finished, it would have looked even worse than it does now.

The bronze statue of Pope Julius III. on the south façade was erected by the subscriptions of the people to show their appreciation for the restitution of those privileges of which they had been deprived by the builder of the Rocca Paolina. It is placed on one side of a door, and on the other side the pulpit, put up for the use of S. Bernardino of Siena, who came to Perugia to preach peace and allay the feuds of the nobles, is a sort of pendant.