"Reading ma\eth a full man, conference a
readye man, and writing an exacte man"
— Bacon

LITERARY LANDMARKS

OF

FLORENCE

BY
LAURENCE HUTTON
AUTHOR OF " LITERARY LANDMARKS OF LONDON '
" LITERARY LANDMARKS OF EDINBURGH "
" LITERARY LANDMARKS OF JERUSALEM "
"LITERARY LANDMARKS OF VENICE"

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS

EdW ^37 Ht

Copyright, 1897, by Harper & Brothers.

All rights reserved.

TO
CHARLES DUDLEY WARNER
MY FRIEND
IN FLORENCE AND ELSEWHERE
WHO FIRST ENCOURAGED ME
TO STUDY
THE LOCAL LANDMARKS
OF
LITERATURE

ILLUSTRATIONS

VILLA LANDOR  Frontispiece
DANTE  Facing f 4
VILLA PALMIERI .  " IO
DEATH-MASK OF DANTE  " 12
VILLA GHERARDO  " 16
SAVONAROLA  " 24
SAVONAROLA'S CELL  " 26
MARTYRDOM OF SAVONAROLA  " 30
GALILEO  " 32
GALILEO'S HOUSE IN ARCETRI  " 34
GALILEO'S STUDY  " 36
PALAZZO DELLA SIGNORIA  " 42
LOGGIA DEI LANZI  " 54
TOMB OF WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR .... " 58
CASA GUIDI WINDOWS  " 62
MRS. BROWNING'S TOMB  " 64
CASA BELLA  " 66
GATEWAY OF THE ENGLISH CEMETERY . . " 70

INTRODUCTION

After the article upon which this vol
ume is based had been put into type it was
carried to Florence, where it was carefully
revised and not a little elaborated, many
new items being added to it at the sugges
tion of Mr. Charles Dudley Warner, Prof.
Willard Fiske, and others, whose local and
antiquarian knowledge was of great value to
me. It contains much information which
does not elsewhere exist, in any collected
form, and much more, which is the result
of personal research and observation, never
before printed in any shape. In the cases
of Dante and Boccaccio, especially, I hope
that I have succeeded in clearing up a
number of doubtful points, and also in es
tablishing more than one new and impor
tant fact not elsewhere on record.

The book is intended to be a guide to
that particular side of the History of Flor
ence, and of the Florentines, by birth and
by adoption, which appeals more than any
other side to me ; and it is written for the
sake of those who care to know how and
when Florence was seen and enjoyed by
those heroes and heroines of the pen whom
we know and love through their works, from
Dante and Boccaccio to Hawthorne and the
Brownings. I would rather have stood by the side of
Dickens, on the Fiesolean Hill, when he
caught his first glimpse of Landor's Villa,
than have been a leader of the Guelphs
or the Ghibellines who distracted Florence
many centuries ago. In this light is the
volume prepared, and for those whose tastes
and sympathies are in accord with my own.
Laurence Hutton.
Hotel Paoli,
Lung' Arno della Zucca Vecchia,

LITERARY LANDMARKS OF FLORENCE

LITERARY LANDMARKS OF
FLORENCE

Florence is still illumined by the reflect
ed lights of its four great fixed stars : Dante,
who rose here ; Boccaccio, who blazed here ;
Savonarola, who suffered here his cruel
eclipse ; and Galileo, who here peacefully set.
Other planets have shone, and still shine, in
its firmament, but towards these four great
stellar bodies do the guides and the guide
books chiefly direct their telescopes to-day.
If they were not all of them literary lights
in the strictest sense of the words, they
were, unquestionably, instrumental in cast
ing much and lasting light upon the litera
ture of science, humanity, and the beautiful.
Mr. Howells, in the delightful chapter en
titled " A Florentine Mosaic," which opens

his Tuscan Cities, says so much about Dante,
in his house and out of it, that he has left —
as is a way of his — little which is new or per
tinent for those who come after him to say.
He goes to the house, not far from Dante's,
in which, according to tradition, lived Dante's
wife, and to the house " just across the way,"
where, according to this same tradition, lived
Dante's first and youthful love; he carries
us to the neighboring church of S. Martino,
in which tradition says that Dante was mar
ried ; and everywhere he discourses most en
tertainingly and most instructively concern
ing what Dante did and hoped and suffered.
Dante was born in 1265 ; and a modern
ized house in the Via S. Martino, called " La
tx Casa Dante," still bears a tablet to that ef
fect. At the end of the fifteenth century
this mansion is said to have been converted
into a wine-shop, much frequented, then and
later, by men like Michael Angelo and Ben-
venuto Cellini, perhaps for Dante's sake, per
haps for the sake of its Chianti ; but a few
years ago it was restored out of all decency ;
and now there is nothing left of what Dante

knew and loved there but the sky above it
and the earth beneath. Mr. Howells be
lieves " that the back of Dante's house was
not smartened up into Nineteenth-Century
Medievalism " as was its front, but the
weight of antiquarian evidence, in this re
spect, seems to be against him.
It is not an easy matter for the stranger in
Florence to find his way to the Casa Dante,
even though he be equipped with the clear
est of guide-books. It is in the heart of the
city, and not very far from the Cathedral ;
but it is out of the beaten track of tourists ;
and the policemen in cocked hats, and the
cab-drivers in hats of all sorts, do not always
know where it is. Taking the broad Via
Calzajoli — that is, broad for Florence — from
the Duomo, and turning to the left into the
narrow Via Tavolini, a continuation of the
Via S. Martino, now called the Via Dante
Alighieri, a step or two beyond the little
Piazza S. Martino, you will come upon it ;
a tall, thin, commonplace house — No. 2 Via
S. Martino — with an inscription over the door
stating that here the Divine Poet was born,

and an inscription on the door stating that
the door is open to strangers on Wednesdays
and Saturdays, from ten in the morning until
three o'clock in the afternoon. The door
itself, according to Dr. J. Marcotti, is placed
where was no door in Dante's time ; and even
during the few hours of the week in which
the latch-string hangs out the doorway is not
worth entering. A flight of new stone steps
conducts one to two small rooms, in the first
of which Dante could not possibly have been
born, unless he were born some six centuries
after the accepted date of his birth, and in
the second of which are a few very doubtful
relics of the poet, some more than doubtful
portraits of him, and a cast of his dead face
which claims to be, and is not, the original
mask. Dr. Marcotti, usually reliable, inclines to
doubt that Dante was married in the little
church of S. Martino at all, notwithstanding
the solemn allegations of the present custo
dian, and despite the fact that an ancient
fresco there is said, by this very custodian,
to represent the very wedding in question.

As Dante was undoubtedly born somewhere,
so was he unquestionably married somewhere,
and to somebody ; and if he was not married
in this particular church, we have no authority
for believing that he was married anywhere
else. " There are stories that Dante was unhap
py with his wife," writes Mr. Charles Eliot
Norton, in his Life of Dante — edition of 1892,
page 149 ; " but they start with Boccaccio,
who was a story-telling gossip. He insinu
ates more than he asserts concerning Dante's
domestic infelicity, and concludes a vague
declaration about the miseries of married life
with the words — ' Truly I do not affirm that
these things happened to Dante, for I do not
know'!" This same story-telling gossip is responsi
ble for many other stories concerning Dante
which have since been accepted as true, and
concerning which nobody knows to this day.
At all events, Dante's wife does not seem to
have been a very comforting or a very com
fortable lady to have lived with. She was
the mother of four of his children, who were

all of them homely, according to the tradi
tional testimony of their father himself ; and
one of them was certainly named Beatrice.
After Dante's expulsion from Florence his
wife is said to have saved certain of his man
uscripts from destruction ; and the story runs
that she sent the first seven cantos of The
Inferno after him into his exile. This was
not a little to her credit ; and it is almost a
pity that she never saw her husband again.
Dante's Beatrice, whom Boccaccio believed
to have been a member of the Portinari fam
ily — which may or may not be the case — and
who at the mature age of eight excited the
tender passion in the bosom of Dante, then
a mature youth of nine, lived with her father,
according to the guide-books, on the site of
the Palazzo Salviati, on the corner of the
Via del Corso and the Via del Proconsolo ;
and — still according to the guide-books — in
the court-yard of the present building there
remains, to this day, a stone seat, in a niche
in the wall, upon which, tradition says, the
blossoming poet was wont to sit and gaze in
rapture upon the nursery windows of the ob-

ject of his adoration. They saw each other
— still according to tradition — in the court
yard of her father's house, wherever it may
have stood, at a May-Day Festival ; and at
first sight they were mutually attracted. No
sooner met but they looked ; no sooner
looked but they loved.
Dante has put on record the impression
she made upon him then. He tells how she
appeared, and what she wore ; and he adds —
the translation is by Mr. Norton — " Though
her image, which staid constantly with me,
gave assurance to Love to hold lordship over
me, yet it was of such noble virtue that it
never suffered Love to rule me without the
faithful consul of the reason in those matters
in which it were useful to hear such consul."
This must have been pleasant reading for
the woman whom Dante married ; and if it
were found among the manuscripts which
she preserved from fire by her care and de
votion, it would prove that Dante was him
self not entirely blameless for the incom
patibility of temper which is said to have
existed between them.

Signorina Portinari was married, to some
body else, before she was twenty-four ; and
Dante's Beatrice died in 1290. She was
probably not the woman Dante imagined
her to be ; and it would have been a great
deal better for Dante, and for all concerned,
if he had not set the fashion of falling in love
with, and rhapsodizing over, an ideal creat
ure, which has since been followed ad nau
seam by other poets not quite so divine.
The whole question of the status and con
dition of the Casa Dante is involved in mys
tery and conjecture, which is not relieved by
the widely varying statements of the local
guides. His family certainly lived in its
neighborhood ; their domicile not only hav
ing an entrance upon the Piazza S. Marti
no, but also one upon the Via Margherita,
which runs by the side of what is now called
the " Dante House," from No. 1 Via Dante
Alighieri to No. 3 Via del Corso. But ex
actly where the domicile stood, and how
much of it is now left, no person living can
say ; and all the doctors differ. Professor
Cesare Calvi, of Florence, an enthusiastic and

learned student of Dante and of his times,
has devoted much care and thought to this
portion of his subject ; and to him I am in
debted for the following hitherto unpub
lished attempt to unravel the tangle of
words and of facts.
" The present House of Dante," he says,
" has been rebuilt upon the site of a portion
of the old house, which extended around to
the Piazzetta della S. Margherita. The Do-
nati had several houses, in one of which
lived Gemma Donati, whom Dante married.
These houses looked out upon the back of
the present Piazza della Rena, which, in those
days, was called the Donati Court-yard. They
had one house, also, on the Corso, opposite
the Church of S. Maria dei Ricci. Beatrice
Portinari lived in a palace on the Corso, af
terwards called the Palazzo Cepparello, where
now the Fathers Scolopi have their school."
The site of this house of the Portinari is
No. 4 Via del Corso, some fifty or sixty paces
from the Via Proconsolo, and some twenty-
five paces from the little Via S. Margherita.
It possesses a court-yard ; but if it contains

a stone seat or a niche in the wall, where
the juvenile lover of the thirteenth century
could have sat and mooned, such a niche
and such a seat are not visible to the naked
eye, or through the spectacles, of the Liter
ary Pilgrim of the nineteenth century.
Beyond the Porta S. Gallo is a meadow, or
grove, which once belonged to Dante, and
which was a favorite spot of his in summer
evenings, where he walked and pondered,
and made anni rhyme with sganni and posse
with grosse, without any interference on the
part of his wife. It now forms a portion of
the garden of the Villa Bondi, formerly the
Villa Camerata, standing on the Via della
Piazzola, just beyond the small Dominican
convent which is on the right as one goes
towards Fiesole. It is very close to the Villa
Palmieri, or Villa Crawford, so intimately as
sociated, by tradition, with Boccaccio.
Dr. Marcotti says that it is a well-known
fact that the Alighieri family owned much
property on the hill of Camerata, and he
adds that at the time of the celebration of
the six-hundredth birthday of Dante it was

VILLA PALMIERI

clearly established, by positive documents,
that the Villa Alighieri was, during the early
years of the fourteenth century, that which
was later known as the Garofano. During
the period of Dante's banishment this
property was confiscated by the state, and
afterwards returned to the Alighieris, who
sold it, in 1332, to the Portinaris, the family
to which Beatrice is asserted to have be
longed ; and they, in their turn, disposed of
it in 1507. The arms of the Portinaris are
still visible upon certain portions of the
house, and the Portinaris seem to have re
stored and renovated it during the fifteenth
century. Owing to the antiquarian interest
of Signor Bondi, into whose possession it
came later, its original style and conditions
have been carefully preserved.
" Dante's Stone," upon which, according
to tradition, the poet sat and gazed upon the
cathedral, then in course of construction, is
itself of traditional authenticity, because lit
tle more than the lowest foundations of the
Duomo had been built in Dante's time. The
stone is still preserved, however, and, for safe-

keeping, it has been placed in the wall of the
house numbered 30 Piazza del Duomo, on
the south side of the square. It is a few
feet above the street level, and when the
present chronicler last saw it, or tried to see
it, it was entirely covered by election post
ers; showing the power of politics over
poetry even in Florence at the end of the
prosaic nineteenth century.
We are hardly inclined to think of Dante
as a Path -Master or Street Commissioner;
nevertheless, recently discovered documents
show that in 1301, just after he had served
his term as Prior, a petition was presented
to the six officials who had charge of the
public roads, squares, bridges, etc., of Flor
ence requesting that a certain thoroughfare
should be widened and extended, and that
Dante was appointed to oversee the whole
matter. The most interesting relic of Dante in
Florence, except of course the famous, al
leged, cast of his dead face in the Uffizi
Gallery, is the mural portrait in what was
once the chapel of the Bargello. For many

DEATH-MASK OF DANTE

13
generations it was covered by repeated coat
ings of the whitewash which the Italians are
so fond of using in the wrong places, and
it only saw the light again through the zeal
and enthusiasm of Mr. R. H. Wilde and
other American and English antiquaries, forty
or fifty years ago. It is believed to have
been painted in 1302, when Dante was in
his prime ; and, although it has been sadly
abused, it is very precious in the eyes of all
lovers of the lover of Beatrice.
Mr. Hare points out a number of the
Landmarks of Boccaccio here: the site of
" the darksome, sad, and silent house " in
which he was born [?] ; the Church of S.
Stefano, between the Via Porta S. Maria
and the Uffizi Palace, where he once lect
ured upon Dante's Divine Comedy ; the Via
della Morta, behind the Misericordia, which
is the scene of a Romeo and Juliet sort of
tale by Boccaccio ; the old tower of the Pa
lazzo Manelli on the corner of the Ponte
Vecchio (No. 1) and the Via de' Bardi, just
at the end of the bridge, where he spent
many happy hours with his friend Francesco

14
de' Amanetti, who is said to have made a
copy of the Decameron from the original
manuscript. But, curiously enough, Mr.
Hare does not allude to Boccaccio's as
sociation with the Villa Palmieri near S.
Domenico, and on the old road to Fiesole,
where a choice party of ladies and gentle
men are said to have spent some time, dur
ing the plague of 1348, in the telling of
choice stories for each other's amusement.
This fine old country-seat, now called the
Villa Crawford, and a favorite Florentine
residence of Queen Victoria, is on the Via
Boccaccio, on the right-hand side, and about
half-way up the hill, as one goes, by the
Porta S. Gallo, towards Fiesole. It has
many terraces ; and it is guarded by ancient
statues of Italian gentlemen and ladies of
Boccaccio's day, who strike one, as they
struck Mr. Howells, as being plastic repre
sentations of the very members of high life
who so long ago narrated Boccaccio's tales
of deep and lasting love. They are far
away from the electric cars, which run to
and from Florence and Fiesole — in Boston

IS
style. And the prosaic nineteenth century
has not yet succeeded in robbing them of
any of their fourteenth-century charm.
The Villa Gherardo, or Villa Ross, on the
Via Settignanese, and about half-way up the
hill towards the little village of Settignano,
just at the outskirts of Florence, also lays
claim to the Decameron. It is a fine old
chateau, of large size and with beautiful gar
dens. It dates back to the tenth century ;
it has a terrace of its own, and it is ap
proached by a long, winding avenue, thickly
hedged by bushes of luxuriant roses. It is
now occupied by Mr. Henry Ross, an English
gentleman, who has made horticulture his
particular and very successful study, and by
Mrs. Janet Ross, his wife, equally distin
guished in the study of letters, who is the
daughter of Lady Duff -Gordon, and the
youngest of three generations of very re
markable women.
In this villa, Mr. Mark Twain, their near
neighbor in the winter of 1892-93, enter
tained, more than once, a select company of
ladies and gentlemen with the stories of

i6
Jim Woolf and Huckleberry Finn, while the
influenza, in a mild form, was raging in the
city at their feet. Mr. and Mrs. Ross prove
very conclusively, from local tradition, and
from Boccaccio's own description of the Villa
Gherardo in the introduction to the Decam
eron, that theirs is the " stately palace, with
a grand and beautiful court in the middle,
upon a little eminence, remote from any great
road, amidst trees and shrubs of an agree
able verdure, and two short miles from Flor
ence," to which the story-tellers repaired on
the now famous Wednesday, by break of
day. The galleries and fine apartments are
still " elegantly fitted up and adorned with
the curious paintings " of which Boccaccio
spoke ; and around it are still " its fine mead
ows and most delightful gardens with foun
tains of the best and purest water " ; while
" the rooms are graced with the flowers of
the season, to the great satisfaction of all
who see them," even at the present time.
It will be remembered that at the end of
the second day, which was Thursday, Neifile,
the new Queen of the Feast, proposed an

V ;¦-'

MM ;sl

VILLA GHERARDO

17
adjournment to another time and to another
place ; and that on the Monday morning
early, " conducted by the music of the night
ingales and other tuneful birds," they went
" full west " by a little path, little frequented,
to another beautiful palace situated also on
an eminence and on a large plain. Here
were " broad, straight walks, filled with
vines ; and in the middle of the garden was
a plot of ground like a meadow; and in the
centre of the meadow was a fountain of
white marble." And so came they to the
Villa Palmieri ; and Signor Filostrato began
the First Novel of the Third Day. The
story is still extant, thanks, perhaps, to Am-
anetti's copy of the original manuscript, and
is written in very choice Italian, hardly fit
to be translated into the vitiated English of
the end of the nineteenth century.
The association of these two houses with
the Decameron is further established by Bal-
delli in his Life of Boccaccio. He writes that
the poet owned a small villa in the parish of
Maiano, and that he was fond of describing
the surrounding country, particularly the

i8
smiling slopes and rich valleys of the Fieso-
lean hills, which overshadowed his modest
dwelling. "Thus," continues the biographer
— " thus from the poetical picture which he
draws of the first halting-place of the gay
company, we recognize the Villa Gherardo,
while from the description of the sumptuous
palace to which they afterwards went, in
order not to be annoyed by tiresome visitors,
[do we recognize] the beautiful Villa Pal-
mieri." The confusion and the misinformation
contained in the guide-books to Florence, of
all languages and in all times, are too pro
found and too ingenious to be altogether
accidental. When we are told that the site
of the house in which Boccaccio first saw
the light is now marked by an old fountain
on the corner of the Via Guicciardini and
the Via Toscanella, we consider the matter
very simple ; but when we find that the Via
Toscanella and the Via Guicciardini run in
parallel lines, and consequently cannot have
a corner; and when we discover no sign of
a fountain, ancient or otherwise, in either

19
street, we sit us down, in some ancient door
way, in utter despair. And we are forced to
conjecture that the ancient fountain in the
Borgo S. Jacopo, just around the corner
from the Via Guicciardini, and some steps
away from the Via Toscanella, may, perhaps,
be upon the sacred spot from which the au
thor of the Decameron set out upon his illus
trious career, until, after further research, we
learn, upon excellent authority, that Boccac
cio was not born in Florence at all !
Boccaccio certainly lived, and died, and
was buried — for a time — in the otherwise
uninteresting little town of Certaldo, about
thirty-five miles from Florence, and on the
road to Siena. His house, very much re
stored, and marked with a tablet, is still in
existence there; and his fellow-townsmen,
although they scattered his bones and broke
his monument a century or so ago, still as
sert, and with proper pride, that he was born
in their midst, mainly upon the strength of
the fact that he called himself " Boccaccio
of Certaldo."
That Boccaccio, the son of a Parisian

mother, was born in Paris and brought by
an Italian father to Florence at an early age
is, however, the generally accepted theory of
the place and conditions of his birth. And
this is the conclusion reached by Dr. Marcus
Landau, a German biographer of Boccaccio,
and a careful and conscientious student of
his subject. He bases his belief upon cir
cumstantial evidence, as well as upon Boccac
cio's A meto, which is, unquestionably, a slight
ly veiled account of the story of the poet's
mother as told in later years by the poet
himself. Nevertheless, Roberto Gherardo
(Lord of Poggio Gherardo) left an interest
ing, and very prolix, manuscript account,
written in 1740, of the house near his own
estate, and called Villeggiatura di Maiano.
He said (the translation is furnished me by
Mrs. Ross) : " In a small villa near Corbignano,
now owned by Signor Ottavio Ruggeri, and
which in ancient times belonged to Boccac
cio di Chellino, and where he lived after he
left Certaldo, his birthplace, to come to Flor
ence, was born our Maestro Giovanni, whose
birthplace, till now, it has been impossible

21
to discover. I am the more convinced that
our Maestro was born in this villa, because it
lies about a mile distant from the valley of
Ameto, where he describes himself, under the
name of Ameto, as often visiting the Fairies
and the Dryads who inhabited these forests,
he being the child of the adjacent hills."
This may have been convincing to the Lord
of Poggio Gherardo, in the middle of the
eighteenth century, but I do not give it as
convincing to a lord of a high-stoop brick
house in Thirty - fourth Street, New York,
at the end of the nineteenth century ; and
where Boccaccio was born, so long as he was
not born in Florence, leaving a Literary Land
mark here, on that account, it is not the
purpose of this volume to discuss. That the
Gherardi bought Pelagio del Poggio — " the
House onthe Slope " — in the year of our
Lord 1342 and held it in their family until
it came into the possession of Mr. Ross, a
few years ago, it may not be out of place to
mention here, as showing that the Italians
do not, as a rule, " move " on the first day of
every May.

The Villa Ross, unfortunately, was some
what shattered and injured by the earth
quake which picked up and shook Florence
and its neighboring hills — for five seconds —
in May, 1895, as a dog picks up and shakes a
rat. The grand old tower of the Gherardi,
which had stood for so many centuries, was
so badly damaged that it had to be entire
ly demolished, for safety's sake, by human
hands. Petrarch is, naturally, associated with many
of the cities of Italy ; but in Florence, as his
biographer expresses it, he seems to have
" stopped only occasionally, to hold converse
with his friends." Concerning his life here
the histories and the guide-books are abso
lutely silent. We know, however, that his
mother was born in the Palazzo Canigiana,
on the Via de' Bardi. And there is a tradi
tion — which is not an unreasonable tradition
— that he was more than once an inmate of
the Palazzo Manelli, so pleasantly associated
with Boccaccio. No letter of Petrarch dated
from Florence, or referring to Florence, is
known to exist now.

23
Mr. Howells has not only foreclosed all
literary mortgages upon the Meadow of
Dante in Florence, but he has ploughed and
harrowed the Landmarks of Savonarola here,
and has sown and reaped a rich harvest. The
gleaner of the after-math can only say that
Savonarola sprouted and blossomed and
bore his fruit in the hard, rough field of Flor
entine tares which ultimately crushed his
body and set his great spirit free.
He entered the Convent of S. Marco here
as a young man, when he created no particu
lar impression either by his words or by his
deeds ; but when, some years later, he was
appointed prior of the convent, he at once
made himself heard and felt. He exhorted
and scolded clergy as well as laity ; and he
preached purity of political as well as of per
sonal conduct. And the more he was or
dered by his superiors to be silent the more
he talked. He was hissed and hooted, and
pelted with curses and with stones. He was
stretched, in the Bargello, upon the rack
which tortured his body as cruelly as perse
cution had tortured his soul. He saw his

24
two faithful monks slaughtered before his
eyes ; he was hung by the neck on the scaf
fold ; and his body was consumed by fire
while life was still in it ; and still he preached.
And still he preaches to all the world. " My
>* sons," he said, in the library of S. Marco —
" my sons, in the presence of God, standing
before the sacred host, and with my enemies
already in the convent, I now confirm my
doctrine. What I have said came to me
from God, and He is my witness in heaven
that what I say is true. . . . My last admoni
tion to you is this : Let your arms be faith,
patience, and prayer. ... I know not whether
my enemies will take my life ; but of this I
am certain, that dead, I shall be able to do
more for you in heaven, than living I have
ever had power to do on earth."
Pope Pius VII., many years after Savona
rola's death, is reported to have said : " I
shall learn in the next world the mystery of
that man. War raged around Savonarola in
his lifetime ; it has never ceased since his
death. Saint, schismatic or heretic, ignorant
vandal or Christian martyr, prophet or char-

SAVONAROLA

25
latan, champion of the Roman Church or
apostle of emancipated Italy — which was
Savonarola ?"
Whether he was saint or heretic, prophet
or charlatan, Savonarola and his memory are
still honored in Florence ; and his relics are
never profaned even by political posters.
The crucifix before which he is said to have
knelt in prayer is still cherished in the Church
of S. Michele ; his pj3£trait 's st'^ religiously
kept in the Convent of S. Marco, where one
still sees, now and then, on the priests in its
cloisters, the white Dominican gowns similar
to that in which he preached ; and in the
cells in the convent occupied by him in later
life are preserved carefully not only his por
trait, attributed to Fra Bartolommeo — and
the best of him ever taken — but some of his
manuscripts, portions of his wardrobe, his ro
sary, and a bit of charred wood, plucked from
the fire upon which his body was consumed.
It was hoped that this might prove a me
morial of Florence unique in its way, because
of no occurrence of the name of the Medici.
But as Mr. Dick could not resist the mention

26
of Charles I., so can I not help a passing
allusion or two to the family which for years
forced themselves into every event connect
ed with the history of the city. Ferdinand
II. of that tribe, as will be seen, attempted
to patronize Galileo ; and Lorenzo the Mag
nificent, on his death-bed, was, according to
tradition, severely snubbed by Savonarola.
Dying in his villa at Careggi, the Magnifi
cent Medici sent for the Fighting Prior,
to whom he confessed as many of his
greater sins as he could remember in so
short a time. Absolution was promised on
three conditions. First, that he should have
a full and lively faith in the mercy of God.
This was easy enough. Second, that he
should restore all things he had unjustly
possessed himself of. This was harder, but
it could be done. Third, that he should re
store liberty to the people of Florence. This
was too much to ask, even of a dying man,
and even in view of so glorious a reward.
And the magnificent monk left the misera
ble Medici to go, unforgiven of priest, be
fore the Final Judge.

SAVONAROLA S CELL

27
It is only proper to observe here that con
siderable doubt has been expressed in regard
to this story, which is based mainly on the
statements of Savonarola's friends. Polizi-
ano, who was with Lorenzo, says, simply, that
Savonarola confessed the Medici, but retired
without volunteering the blessing.
The beautiful Villa di Careggi lies outside
of the Barrier Ponte Rosso, on the left. It
is reached by the Via Vittorio Emanuele
and the Via Macerelli. The name is on
the gate ; and not very much but the name
is left of what Savonarola and the Medici
knew of it.
Pasquale Villari, in his Macchiavelli and his
Times, speaks in the highest terms of the in
tellectual qualities of the Magnificent Lo
renzo, who seems to have been one of the
wisest as well as one of the meanest of man
kind. According to Villari, he was educated
by the first men of letters of the age in
which he lived, and he proved himself the
equal of many of them in wit and in learn
ing. He spent immoderate sums of money
for the advancement of literature, while he

28
gave himself up to dissipations which ruined
his health and shortened his days. Learned
men were employed in the public offices,
and " from Florence, under his rule," says
the historian, " spread a light which illu
mined the world. Lorenzo, with his varied
and well-cultivated talents, his keen penetra
tion and unerring judgment in all depart
ments of knowledge, was no ordinary patron
and Maecenas ; he stood among the first
literati of his kind, and he took an active
part in the labor he promoted, not only in
the interests of his government, but also from
real and undoubted intellectual tastes. . . .
In his [own] poetry, as in everything else, he
displayed great knowledge of human nature,
and a fine taste, without, however, having
sufficient elevation of mind to reach the
heights of art. Even at that time [when he
was in his eighteenth year] we find fine
taste and ease in his verses, which are writ
ten in a spontaneous and something too
popular manner."
Lorenzo, here accepted as a literary man,
has left many landmarks in his native town.

29
He was born in the Palazzo Riccardi— then
the Palazzo Medici — still standing at the be
ginning of the Via Cavour; and he is sup
posed to have been buried under Michael
Angelo's " Twilight " and " Dawn," in the
Church of S. Lorenzo, where he is represent
ed as "The Thinker" by the same artist, a
statue of which Hawthorne says : " No such
grandeur and majesty have elsewhere been
put in human shape"; and in which he will
live for centuries after he is entirely forgot
ten as a man of letters or as a patron of the
arts. But to return to Savonarola. He was
imprisoned in the Alberghettino, or little
hotel — and an uncomfortable little hotel
it must have been for him — a small chamber
in the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio ; and he
spent the last night of his mortal life in the
great hall of the Consiglio, or, as it is some
times called, the Sala dei Cinquecento, erect
ed for the meetings of the council established
by his advice. He is said to have slept peace
fully on the stone floor of this room, with
his head pillowed on the knees of a faithful

3o
attendant ; and on the morning of his exe
cution he received the last sacrament in
the Chapel of S. Bernardo, a beautiful little
sanctuary well worthy of a visit for its own
beautiful sake.
The scene of Savonarola's death, accord
ing to tradition and to the local guide-books,
is on the site of the great Fountain of Nep
tune, by the side of the Palazzo Vecchio, in
the Piazza della Signoria which, for many
years, was known as the Piazza del Gran
Duca. But the execution would seem to
have taken place nearer the centre of the
square, if any reliance can be placed upon an
old and obviously incorrect representation of
the event which is preserved in the inner of
Savonarola's two cells in the Convent of S.
Marco. The picture, a print of which is here
produced, is not dated, but it was painted
before the erection of the Uffizi Palace, in
the middle of the sixteenth century, and it
shows a long platform stretching from the
corner of the Palazzo Vecchio, and from where
the fountain now stands, but many yards far
ther towards the north, and about the site of

31
the great glaring electric light of which Mr.
Ruskin so justly complains. It should be
mentioned here that most of the modern
maps and plans of Florence are constructed
with an eye for the picturesque, and without
any regard to the natural and accepted points
of the compass, the north and the south being
rarely, if ever, on the top or the bottom of
the documents.
Savonarola's ashes were gathered together
at nightfall after the execution, and were
cast into the Arno. Like the ashes of Wic-
lif, which were thrown into the river Swift,
they have gone "into narrow seas, and thence
into the broad ocean, and thus become the
emblem of his doctrine, which is now dis
persed all the world over."
Notwithstanding the pride of the Floren
tines in the possession of the bones of Galileo,
he did in reality very little for Florence, ex
cept to come here to die. The oscillations
of a hanging-lamp in the cathedral at Pisa,
in which city is a tablet marking the site of
the house in which he was born, gave him
the first idea of the pendulum ; and he first

32
turned his attention to the thermometer,
the telescope, and the microscope at Padua.
When he was punished by the Inquisition be
cause he said that the world moved, he sought
refuge in Florence ; and from here he went,
peacefully and willingly, in 1642, to join the
stars which he had brought so much nearer
to the moving earth.
The Casa Galileo (on the south side of the
Arno), No. 13 Costa S. Giorgio, in which
Galileo lived for some years, is a long house
on a sharp incline ; two stories in height up
the hill, three stories in height below. It
is defaced by ugly modern frescos, and by a
libellous portrait of its illustrious occupant.
A military barrack is just beneath it, and
crowds of children beg coppers of the Land-
marker who sits him down in front of it to
record his impressions, while their seniors
look over his shoulder at the little book in
which, to their great surprise, he is making
notes and not a picturesque sketch.
The tablet on this house of Galileo seems
to have been placed there, not to record the
great fact that it was Galileo's house, but

GALILEO

33
rather to record the utterly unimportant fact
that once a certain member of the Medici
family condescended to call upon Galileo
here. And on the tablet on Galileo's house
at Arcetri, near the famous tower, there is no
hint given to the world that a greater than
any of the Medici, one John Milton, a young
English poet, destined soon to lose the sight
of his eyes, came, in 1638, to visit the great
Italian astronomer, grown blind already by
weight of years and of sorrow.
Although one of Landor's Imaginary Con
versations was that between Galileo and Mil
ton on this occasion, neither Galileo nor Mil
ton recorded, unfortunately, what was then
said or done. It was unquestionably talk
too good to have gone up the chimney or
out of the window ; and it is very hard for
us, even with Landor's aid, to imagine it.
Galileo's Tower at Arcetri is well worthy of
a visit, because of the view to be obtained
from its top, if for no other reason. It is sit
uated upon a commanding eminence, six or
seven hundred feet above the Valley of the
Arno ; and it is reached by the Porta Ro-

34
mana, along the broad Viale di Poggio Im-
periale, lined with its tall cypress-trees. Here
are still preserved, in the study he occupied
for many years, Galileo's microscope, many
of his astronomical instruments, his portrait
from life in pen and ink (it is supposed by
Guido Reni) one of his autograph letters, the
mask of his dead face, and other interesting
relics. And by the rough wooden steps by
which he himself climbed towards the sky
one can now ascend to the square roof, to
see the stars by night ; and to see, by day, a
vista almost unparalleled for beauty in all
this revolving world in which we live.
Galileo's Tower forms a wing of a long, nar
row mansion, beautiful and comfortable and
cheerful enough, no doubt, in the summer
months, but cold and carpetless and dreary
enough in the bleak winter weather of
Sunny Italy. It contains old and pictu
resque furniture, and frescos, and a few rare
pictures, notably a portrait of Michael An-
gelo, attributed to himself, and a pencil
sketch, by Canova, of the mother of all the
Buonapartes ; a family which, not being con-

GALILEO'S HOUSE IN ARCETRI

35
tent with having taken possession of almost
all the rest of the world, still claims to have
been indigenous to this soil.
The Villa Galileo, in which Galileo lived in
Arcetri, while using the tower as his work
shop by night and by day, and in which he
died, is now numbered 23 Via del Piano di
Giullari. It stands behind and below the
tower, only a short distance away, and it is
on the first turn to the right as one ascends
to the Porta Romana. The house on the
street side is commonplace enough, except
for a baddish modern bust of Galileo, and for
a tablet bearing the dates of his birth and
his death. The " back of the house," as one
of the guide-books expresses it, " fronts on
a beautiful garden, and commands a most
lovely view." His life there was saddened by
domestic as well as by public trials, and was
only occasionally cheered by such expressions
of sympathy as men like John Milton could
bring to him. The house does not seem to
have been altered since Galileo died — in the
year in which Newton was born. But as it
is not " a show-place," and as permission to

36
enter it is granted only by the courtesy of
the present proprietor, a private gentleman,
the present chronicler can only speak of it as
he saw it from the little street ; and he can
only thank Galileo for having lived in it, and
for having lived at all.
Both the house and the Tower of Galileo,
at Arcetri, are now easily reached from Flor
ence by the prosaic horse-car, which, like the
Buonapartes of three-quarters of a century
ago, has taken possession of all lands ; and
which is called, in all languages — except in
the language which originally gave it a name
— " the tram."
»* Galileo's body now lies in a magnificent
monument in the nave of the Church of S.
Croce. According to the Misses Susan and
Joanna Horner, as set down in their admi
rable Walks in Florence, when Galileo's bones
were removed there, in 1757, from an adjoin
ing chapel, a titled and enthusiastic idiot cut
off and carried away the forefinger and thumb
of the right hand of the Master, in order "to
possess the instruments with which Galileo
had written his great works." Another fin-

GALILEO S STUDY

37
ger, removed by another vandal, is said to be
preserved in the room dedicated to Gali
leo at the Museum of Natural History here.
Happily the head of Galileo, which directed
these " instruments," was undisturbed, and
now rests with what was left of his terres
trial body.
Many years ago Leigh Hunt wrote : —
" Above all, I know not whether the most
interesting sight in Florence is not a little
mysterious bit of something looking like
parchment, which is shown you under a glass
case in the principal public library. It stands
pointing towards heaven, and is one of the
fingers of Galileo. The hand to which it
belonged is supposed to have been put to
torture by the Inquisition for ascribing mo
tion to the earth ; and the finger is now
worshipped for having proved the motion.
After this let no suffering reformer's pen
misgive him. If his cause be good, justice
will be done it some day."
Milton came to Florence in the autumn
of 1638, and he seems to have made many
friends here, and to have been hospitably

38
entertained. " In the private academies of
Italy, whither I was favored to resort," he
wrote, " some trifles which I had in memory,
composed at under twenty or thereabout,
met with an acceptance above what I had
looked for ; and other things which I had
shifted, in scarcity of books and conveniences,
to patch up among them, were received with
written encomium, which the Italian is not
forward to bestow on men of this side the
Alps." Again he said : — " There it was that
I found and visited Galileo, grown old, a
prisoner of the Inquisition, for thinking, in
astronomy, otherwise than the Franciscan
and the Dominican licensers thought."
Milton came back to Florence in the
spring of 1639, when, according to his own
account, he was received with no less eager
ness than if the return had been to his na
tive country and his friends at home. He
remained here two months on the second
visit, and Masson believes that he saw Gali
leo again, and probably more than once.
While Amerigo Vespucci has no espe
cial claims to Landmarks that are Literary,

39
except as the writer of voluminous and ex
cellent letters, the literature of a great na
tion owes to him at least a name ; and some
of its makers and its readers, on that ac
count, if on no other, will perhaps care to
know, when they come to Florence, just
where he was born and lived. The site
of his house on the Borgo Ognissanti —
No. 1 8 — and near the Via dei Fossi, is
now occupied by a hospital founded by
him. Here he wrote the letter which Martin
Waldseemiiller quoted in his Cosmographies
Introductio in 1 507, with the remark : — " Now
a fourth part of the world has been found
by Amerigo Vespucci, and I do not see why
we should be prevented from calling it
Ameriga or America." And thus did the
local habitation which Columbus is credited
with discovering for us get its name. A
stone in the floor of a chapel in the adjoin
ing church of Ognissanti bears the legend,
in Latin, that it was once the property of
Vespucci ; and the broad avenue on the
banks of the river, from the Ponte alia Car-
raia to the Piazza degli Zuavi, is called Lung'

40
Arno Amerigo Vespucci to this day — with
no one to object.
Niccol6 Macchiavelli is chiefly interesting
to the students of English literature as having
contributed two important words to the lan
guage. As Macaulay said, out of the sur
name of Macchiavelli we have coined an epi
thet for a knave, and out of his Christian-
name a synonym for the devil ; and, asHudi-
bras Butler put it :
" Nick Macchiavel had ne'er a trick,
Tho' he gave his name to our Old Nick."
Whether the devil in this case has re
ceived more or less than his due, it is not
my place, or my purpose, or in my power,
here to say.
The house in which Macchiavelli lived, and
died, at No. 16 Via Guicciardini, and a stone's-
throw from the Ponte Vecchio, on the south
side of the river, has no less than two tablets
to mark these facts, the later and larger one
having been placed there in 1869, on the four
hundredth anniversary of the great man's
birth. The mansion has been cruelly done

fills Silica

PALAZZO DELLA SIGNORIA, WITH THE
TOWER OF THE VACCA

41
over, during the last decade or two, and its
beautiful door was carried to the Tower of
Galileo, where it is still preserved. The
house, as it now appears, is commonplace
and homely, but it is still a good enough
house to have lived and died in, and its oc
cupant no doubt found it so, after an ex
perience worse than death in a Florentine
jail. Macchiavelli, poet, philosopher, critic, his
torian, orator, diplomat, was locked up for
many months, and among the lowest crimi
nals, in the Stinche, an ancient prison which
has since disappeared, and the site of which
is now occupied by the Accademia Filar-
monica and the Teatro Pagliano, in the Via
del Fosso, near the Piazza S. Croce.
Macchiavelli was buried in the Church of
S. Croce. His monument, erected by public y
subscription many years after his death, is
a tardy recognition of what he certainly did
for his town and his country.
Opposite the house of Macchiavelli, in
the Via Guicciardini, stands the house occu
pied by the historian Francesco Guicciardini,

42
who gave his name to the street in which he
was born and in which he lived for many
years. He is believed to have died at Ar
cetri, where much of his literary work was
done, Florence being no more kind to him
than she was, in the olden times, to the rest
of her literary sons.
The Misses Horner tell a pretty story of
a flying visit made by Tasso once to the
architect Bernardo Buontalenti. The poet,
living at Ferrara, had heard of the produc
tion on the Florentine stage of his pastoral
of Aminta, and that the success which it had
met here was due, in a great measure, to the
scenery painted for the occasion by Buonta
lenti. Elaborate settings have saved many
a doubtful play since those days, a fact
which dramatists are slow to recognize ; but
Tasso, nobler than some of the men who
have come after him, rode all the way to
Florence to thank the artist, whom he em
braced and kissed upon the forehead ; and
he then left as suddenly and as unexpect
edly as he had arrived. When playwrights
embrace scene-painters in our day we can

43
hail the dramatic millennium as having come
again !
Buontalenti's house still stands on the
corner of the Via Maggio — No. 37 — and the
little Via Marsili, on the left-hand side as
one passes along the latter street from the
Ponte S. Trinita towards the Piazza S. Fe-
licita. But if the frescos of Poccetti, of
which the guide-books speak, were on the
outer walls of the building, they have been
stuccoed and kalsomined out of all existence
by later owners.
Montaigne visited Florence in 1580, stay
ing at the Angel Inn, where the charges
were seven reals a day for man and horse —
Florence being considered the dearest city
in Italy. A real is a Spanish coin, worth at
the present time about five American cents.
At a festival here, on St. John's Day, he
had an opportunity of seeing all the women,
old and young, and he was obliged to con
fess that the amount of beauty at Florence
appeared to him to be very limited. He re
marked upon a Florentine custom of cooling
wine by putting snow in the glass, which

44
liked him not ; and he recorded his having
bought eleven plays and some other pieces,
and the fact that he saw here a copy of Boc
caccio's will, with a discourse on the Decam
eron, the will being printed verbatim from
the original, which was written on a ragged
bit of parchment.
John Evelyn recorded in his Diary that
he arrived in Florence on the 22d October,
1644, being recommended to the house of
Signor Baritiere, in the Piazza Spirito Santo,
where he was exceedingly well treated. His
life here was that of the ordinary observant
tourist of the present day.
Thomas Gray and Horace Walpole were
together in Florence for some fifteen months
in 1739-40, and were the guests of Horace
Mann, although they do not say where.
They went to Rome, and probably to Venice,
together, but no particulars of these visits
are to be found in Gray's Letters, edited
by Mr. Edmund Gosse, or in the published
correspondence of Walpole, except that Wal
pole wrote once : — " I am lodged with Mr.
Mann, the best of creatures. I have a ter-

45
race all to myself, with an open gallery on
the Arno ; and on either hand two fair
bridges. The air is so serene and so secure
[this was in July, 1740] that one sleeps with
all the windows and doors thrown open to
the river, and only covered with a slight
gauze to keep off the gnats."
From this description one must infer that
the British Embassy in those days was on
the Lung' Arno, perhaps between the Ponte
Vecchio and the Ponte S. Trinita; and it
may be that the Hotel of Great Britain still
preserves its name and still marks its site.
Walpole had " already become fond of
Florence to a degree ; it's infinitely the most
agreeable of all the places I have seen since
London," he said. He seems to have led
rather a wild life here, and during the Carni
val, in March, 1740, he wrote : — •" I have done
nothing but step out of my domino into bed,
and out of bed into a domino."
Horace Mann spent a number of years in
Florence as the representative of the British
Government, and all students of the city
and of its history should read his Letters to

46
Walpole, edited and condensed by Dr. Do-
ran. They give a very striking and a very
vivid picture of Florentine Women and
Men, and Manners, and Politics, and Social
Customs, between 1740 and 1786. He was
greatly disturbed by the visits of the Old
and the Young Pretender, and of Theodore,
King of Corsica. He was familiar with all
the gossip and all the scandal of the place ;
and some of his epistles read as if they
might have been written in our own day.
In 1742 he gave a full account of an earth
quake, which happened, however, at Leg
horn, not at Florence; and on the 12th Feb
ruary, 1743, he wrote: — "We have strange
and melancholy doings here. Everybody is
ill of the Influenza. And many dye, particu
larly among the poor people !"
Smollett came to Florence in January,
1765, and " lodged at the Widow Vinini's,
an English house delightfully situated on
the bank of the Arno." His landlady, who
was a native of England, he found very
obliging ; the rooms were comfortable, and
the entertainment good and reasonable. He

47
gave no account of his personal experiences
here, and he hinted not at the exact, or the
approximate, site of the Widow Vinini's hos
telry. He saw a large number of fashionable
persons in Florence, he spoke of its " toler
able " opera, and he dwelt at length upon
the habits of the aristocrats of Florence in
entering into partnership with the shop
keepers, even selling their own wine by
retail. And he thought it "pretty ex
traordinary that it should not be deemed
disparagement in a nobleman to sell half a
pound of figs, or a palm of ribbon or tape,
or to take money for a flask of sour wine,
and yet be counted infamous to match his
daughter to the family of a person who has
distinguished himself in any of the learned
professions." Alfieri lived and died in the Palazzo Ma-
setti, on the Lung' Arno Corsini, No. 2,
facing the river, and a few steps west of the
Ponte S. Trinita ; the tablet informing the
passer-by that here " The Prince of Tragedy
wrote for the glory and the regeneration of
Italy." The younger Dumas, who made a

48
pious pilgrimage to this house a few years
ago, described Alfieri's apartments as being
upon the second floor ; and Alfieri said in his
Memoirs that he took possession of them in
1793. He told the story of his own life here
— " the air, the view, the comfort, exciting his
intellectual faculties to the utmost." The
Countess of Albany was his constant com
panion in this mansion ; and he died, in 1803,
with his hand in hers. In his final delirium
he repeated one hundred verses of Hesiod,
which he had read but once, and that in his
youth ; and he went out of the world in the
midst of his work and in complete harness.
Alfieri's monument, by Canova,in the Church
of S. Croce, was erected in 18 10 by the
Countess of Albany, who herself lies in the
same church, under a beautiful tomb of white
marble. She survived him twenty-one years.
The authorities of Florence have been very
liberal in their tablets to their illustrious dead,
and unusually generous in their engraved testi
monials to the illustrious strangers who have
lived and died in their midst. These tab
lets are in all quarters of the town, and upon

49
buildings of all sorts and conditions. They
are almost as thick as were the autumnal
leaves which strewed the brooks in Vallom-
brosa when Milton saw it in 1638, and gen
erally they execute their purposes with a
fair show of truth. They are, however, often
very confusing to the blind pilgrim, led by
blind guide-books, and sometimes they force
him to stagger from side to side of the little
thoroughfares, with his head in the air and
his feet in the mud, which is sometimes deep
in Florence. He cannot afford to let one of
them escape him, and while he is searching
in vain for the house in which Byron lodged
or Hawthorne studied, he will stumble, per
haps, unexpectedly and much to his satisfac
tion, upon the house in which Mrs. Brown
ing or Mrs. Trollope died ; and he will thank
the authorities for giving him so much help
as that, although he will, in the meantime,
have wasted many precious minutes in try
ing to decipher the name of some Giovanni
Somebody of whom he never heard, and for
whom he does not care.
Byron spent but a day in Florence on his

5°
first visit, in 1817. He went to the two gal
leries and to the Medici Chapel, which he de
scribed " as fine frippery in great slabs of
various expensive stones, to commemorate
fifty rotten and forgotten carcasses. It is
unfinished and will remain so." In 1821 he
was here again with Samuel Rogers, but only
for a short time, and he has left no footprints
in Florence at all.
Shelley was in Florence for a few months
in the winter of 1819-20. Florentine art and
literature seem to have impressed him less
than the natural beauties of the surrounding
country ; and of its inhabitants, native and
foreign, he saw but little, living here, as else
where, almost entirely within himself.
Leigh Hunt came to Florence in the sum
mer of 1823. In his Autobiography he wrote :
" The night of our arrival we put up at a
hotel in a very public street, and were kept
awake by songs and guitars. . . . From the
hotel we went to a lodging in the Street of
Beautiful Women — Via delle Belle Donne —
a name which it is a sort of tune to pro
nounce. We there heard one night a con-

5i
cert in the street, and, looking out, saw
music-stands, books, etc., in regular order,
and amateurs performing as in a room. Op
posite our lodgings was an inscription on a
house, purporting that it was the hospital of
the Monks of Vallombrosa. From the Via
delle Belle Donne we went to live in the Pi
azza S. Croce, in the corner house on the left
side of it, next to the church of that name 
We lodged in the house of a Greek, who
came from the Island of Andros, and was
called Dionysus; a name which has existed
there, perhaps, ever since the god who bore it.
Our host was a proper Bacchanalian, always
drunk, and he spoke faster than I ever heard.
He had a ' fair Andrian ' for his mother, old
and ugly, whose name was Bella."
The Street of the Beautiful Women, at
present writing, sounds better than it looks
or smells. It is close to the Via Tornabuoni,
and in the very heart of the town — a short,
dirty, crooked, narrow lane, too narrow to
afford more than half a sidewalk through
more than half its length, and it is given over
almost entirely to stables and to dealers in

52
charcoal. The Beautiful Women who fre
quent it to-day, and who are to its manor
born, are mainly distinguished for some
actual or affected contortion of body, or for
some disfigurement of facial feature which is
their chief claim upon the charity for which
they clamor. The inscription upon the
Hospital of the Monks of Vallombrosa is
still to be seen, faded and dim, and high in
the air, on the house numbered i Via delle
Belle Donne ; and, naturally, the Hunts must
have lodged at No. 2 or No. 4, both of which
face it, and are almost the only habitable
mansions left in the street ; families of re
spectable but unintellectual cart-horses hav
ing now their residences on each side of
them. The Piazza S. Croce house, numbered 14
to 17, is not a very inviting domicile. It is
sombre, four stories in height, and around the
corner from nothing. It now forms a por
tion of an Industrial School of Decorative
Art, in a quiet spot very far from the crowd
which is so rarely madding in Florence, even
in the liveliest seasons of the year.

53
A little later Leigh Hunt went to Maiano,
a village on the slope of the Fiesolean hills,
where he found the manners of the hamlet
very pleasant and cheerful ; and he said that
the greatest comfort he experienced in Italy
(next to writing a book) was living in that
neighborhood, and thinking of Boccaccio as
he went about. He speaks of the tradition
that Boccaccio's father had a house at Maia
no, and that the poet was fond of the place.
Out of his windows Hunt could see the Villa
Gherardo, the Decameron Valley of Ladies, a
villa belonging to the family of Macchiavelli,
and Settignano, where Michael Angelo was
born ; and he has often told with what pleas
ure he looked back upon it all in later life.
Here he had the society of Seymour Kirkup,
Landor, and Charles Armitage Brown. And
Hazlitt, who came once to see him here, de
scribed him as " moulting." " My last day in
Italy," Hunt wrote, "was jovial. I had a
proper Bacchanalian parting with Florence.
A stranger and I cracked a bottle together in
high style. He ran against me with a flask
of wine in his hand, and divided it glorious-

?

54
ly between us. My white waistcoat was
drenched into rose-color. It was impossible
to be angry with his good-humored face ; so
we complimented one another on our jovial
ity, and we parted on the most jovial terms."
In 1828 Longfellow took up his abode in
a house upon the Piazza S. Maria Novella,
close to the Church of S. Maria Novella,
where, as he remembered, Boccaccio placed
the opening scene of the Decameron. In
November, 1868, he wrote to Lowell : — " We
are in the Hotel Arno ; we are sumptuously
lodged in a palace on the Lung' Arno, with
in a stone's-throw of the Ponte Vecchio. My
bedroom, looking over the river, is thirty-
three feet by thirty, and high in proportion.
I feel as if I were sleeping in some public
square — that of the Gran Duca, for instance,
with David and the Perseus looking at me.
I was there this morning before breakfast;
so that I fairly woke up there, and rubbed
my eyes and wondered if I were awake or
dreaming." In January, 1869, Longfellow wrote: —
" Florence was charming. We were there

LOGGIA DEI LANZI

55
only three weeks, but we are going back
again. We had a beautiful apartment close
by the Ponte Vecchio, and right in the heart
of the mediaeval town. Close by, too, was
the little church of S. Stefano, where Boccac
cio read his comment on Dante ; and the
Uffizi and the Palazzo Vecchio, and Giotto's
tower and S. Giovanni. It was delightful to
be there."
Benvenuto's Perseus stands alone in the
Loggia dei Lanzi to-day ; the Young David
having been carried, perhaps for safer keep
ing, to the Academy of Fine Arts. The
Square of the Gran Duca is now known as
the Piazza della Signoria.
The Villa Landor stands on the road to
Fiesole, a mile or so beyond the Porta Gallo
and on the Via delle Fontanelle. The prop
erty, bought by Landor in 1829, has lately
come into the possession of Professor Willard
Fiske, who has enlarged and almost rebuilt
the house, although certain of Landor's fa
vorite apartments, notably the dining-room,
the drawing-room, and Landor's bedroom,
have been carefully preserved. Here he

56
held his famous Conversations, imaginary and
real, and from his windows he enjoyed that
fair Florentine prospect which age cannot
wither and custom cannot stale. Mr. Fiske
has had a series of fine photographs made of
the house as it was in Landor's day, a set of
which he has presented to the British Museum.
It was out of one of the windows of this din
ing-room, by-the-way, that Landor once, in
a fit of rash impetuosity, threw his cook; a
deed he always regretted, because, as he ex
pressed it, if he had selected the other win
dow, he would not have demolished a bed
of tulips of which he was very fond ! Lan
dor's guests here were all the distinguished
men of letters who came to Florence in hi::
day; and in the same hospitable house are
entertained now all the men and women of
science, letters, and the arts who come to
Florence from all parts of the globe.
Locker-Lampson, in My Confidences, wrote
of Landor in his later life : — " I made Landor's
acquaintance at the Florentine Villa. He
was well known in Florence for the eccen
tricity of his opinions and the turbulence of

57
his behavior. He lived by himself, and soli
tude may have rendered him savage. His
little villa was poor and bare, but there was
enough for the exigencies of contentment
and obscurity, and the situation was beauti
ful. ... I found him reading a Waverley
novel, and congratulated him on having so
pleasant a companion in his retirement."
On the 2d of April, 1845, Dickens wrote
to Forster : — " I went up to the convent [at
Fiesole], which is on a height, and was lean
ing over a dwarf wall, basking in the noble
view over a vast range of hill and valley,
when a little peasant girl came up and began
to point out the localities. ' Ecco la villa
Landora !' was one of the first half-dozen
sentences she spoke. My heart swelled, as
Landor's would have done, when I looked
down upon it, nestling among its olive-trees
and vines. ... I plucked a leaf of ivy from
the convent-garden as I looked ; and here it
is for Landor, with my love."
Landor died, in 1864, in the Via della
Nunziatina, now Via della Chiesa — No 93 —
a poverty-stricken, shabby little street, which

58
was never genteel. It is on what is here
called " the other side of the river," and it
runs from nothing to nowhere. It is peopled
by wheelwrights and venders of vegetables,
as poor as is the street itself ; it has no pros
pect of anything that is not commonplace,
and it is far away from everything that Landor
could have loved, or that could have made
life to him worth living. No. 93 is one of
the few respectable residences in the street.
It overlooks, from the upper windows, and
despite the high wall, the gardens of S. Maria
Carmine, which are not particularly cheerful ;
and it has no tablet but the tin sign of the
insurance company which protects it from
fire. Landor lies under a flat white marble
stone in the English Cemetery here, on the
left of, and not very far from, the entrance.
The inscription simply bears his name and
records the fact that it is " The Last Sad
Tribute of his Wife and Children."
Fenimore Cooper passed here the winter
of 1837-38. He examined twenty or thirty
palaces before he found lodgings to suit him.

TOMB OF WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR

59
And although he described his apartments at
length, and his life in them, he gave no hint
as to where they were. " In the spring of
1838," he wrote, " we left our palazzo, within
the walls, and went to a villa called St. II-
lario, just without them." But that is all.
Some of Cooper's impressions of Florence
are worth recording. " New York, which is
four times as large and ten times as rich,
does not possess a tithe, nay, an hundredth
part, of its attraction. To say nothing of
taste or of the stores of ancient art, or of
the notable palaces and churches, the circle
of living creatures here affords greater sources
of amusement and instruction than are to be
found in all the five great American towns
put together."
The five great American towns will, un
questionably, grant the stores of ancient art
and taste to the Tuscan capital, but they
will hardly admit the overwhelming charm
of her circle of living creatures.
Charles Lever came to Florence in 1847,
and he lived, for several years, in the Villa S.
Leonardo, on the Via S. Leonardo, and near

6o
the old church of S. Leonardo, beyond the
Porta S. Giorgio. Here he wrote, among
other novels, The Martins of Cro Martin,
Roland Cashel, and The Dodd Family Abroad.
Mrs. Jameson made many visits to Flor
ence, and spent, at different times, many
months here. But the only hint she gave
as to her address is in a letter written in
1857 from No. 1902 Via Maggio. She went
then, and earlier and later, to the residence
of Mrs. Trollope, who. a devoted whist-
player, was bitterly disappointed at finding
that Mrs. Jameson did not know one card
from another. She permitted herself to be
lionized, which in her very heart she hated ;
but in other respects her days here were
very happily and very usefully passed.
Just at the top of the Piazza de' Pitti, as
one goes from the Arno, and on the Piazza
S. Felicita — No. 9 — where it is entered by
Via Maggio, is the Casa Guidi, in which Mr.
and Mrs. Browning lived for many years,
and where, in 186 1, Mrs. Browning died. It
is a four-storied edifice, perfectly plain in its
exterior.

6i
The tablet on the Browning house bears
the following inscription, roughly translat
ed : " Here wrote and died Elizabeth Barrett
Browning, in whose womanly heart were unit
ed profound learning and poetic genius ; and
who by her verse wove a golden wreath be
tween Italy and England. Florence, in grati
tude, placed this memorial here in 1861."
In 1848 Mrs. Browning wrote: — "In fact
... we have planted ourselves in the Guidi
Palace, in the favorite suite of the last Count
(his arms are on the floor of my bedroom).
Though we have six beautiful rooms and a
kitchen, three of them quite palace rooms,
and opening on a terrace, and though such
furniture as comes by slow degrees into
them is antique and worthy of the place, we
yet shall have saved money by the end of
the year. ... A stone's -throw, too, it is
from the Pitti, and really in my present
mind I would hardly exchange with the
Grand -Duke himself. By -the -bye, as to
street, we have no spectators in windows,
just the gray wall of a church called S. Fe
lice, for good omen."

62

George S. Hillard, in his Six Months in
ftaly, spoke of the pleasure he had in meet
ing the Brownings in their own house in
Florence in the winter of 1847-48, and he
said that a happier home and a more perfect
union than theirs it is not easy to imagine.
Browning's conversation he found like the
poetry of Chaucer, or like Browning's own
poetry simplified and made transparent. He
spoke of the marks of pain already stamped
upon Mrs. Browning's person and manner, of
her slight figure, of her countenance expres
sive of genuine sensibility, and of " her trem
ulous voice fluttering over her words like
the flame of a dying candle over the wick."
Here on the 9th of March, 1849, their son
was born, and here, a few days later, Brown
ing heard of the death of his mother, to
whom he was devotedly attached.
In Florence Mrs. Browning wrote The
Casa Guidi Windows and Aurora Leigh.
To Mr. Milsand, Browning wrote from this
house in 1858 : — " My wife will add a few
lines about ourselves; she is suffering a lit
tle from the cold, which has come late, not

CASA GUIDI WINDOWS

63
very severely either, but enough to influence
her more than I could wish. We live wholly
alone here ; I have not left the house one
evening since our return. I am writing — a
first step towards popularity for me — lyrics
with more music and more painting than be
fore, so as to get people to hear and see."
" Mrs. Browning," said Hawthorne, " met
us at the door of the drawing-room, and greet
ed us most kindly — a pale, small person,
scarcely embodied at all ; at any rate, only
substantial enough to put forth her slender
fingers to be grasped, and to speak with a
shrill yet sweet voice. She is a good and
kind fairy, however, and sweetly disposed
towards the human race, although only re
motely akin to it. It is wonderful to see
how small she is, how pale her cheeks, how
bright and dark her eyes. There is not
such another figure in the world ; and her
black ringlets cluster down her neck and
make her face look the whiter by their sable
profusion." The story of Mrs. Browning's death in this
house in 1861 has been given in the Life of

64
Robert Browning. It is one of sad yet ten
der and even cheerful courage and sweet
ness, and need not be repeated here.
Mrs. Browning rests on the left of the
main path as one enters the gate of the
English Cemetery here. The monument is
elaborate, but the inscription is simple
enough—" E. B. B."
When Lowell was living in the Casa Guidi,
or under what circumstance, or who were
his neighbors, is not recorded ; but he wrote,
in 1 874, from the " Albergo del Norte, Fi-
renze," of the deep chord touched by the
sight of " those old lodgings in the Casa
Guidi, of the balcony Mabel used to play
upon, and the windows we used to look out
of, so long ago."
The Hawthornes came to Florence in
May, 1858. In his Life of his father Mr.
Julian Hawthorne writes : — " The Casa Bella,
a floor of which we occupied from the date
of our arrival until the first of August, was a
fresh and bright looking edifice, handsomely
furnished and fitted, built round a court full
of flowers, trees, and turf. A terrace, pro-

MRS. BROWNING'S TOMB

65
tected from the sun by a rustic roof built
over it, extended along one side of the ex
terior, and low windows or glass doors
opened upon it. The house was all light
and grace, and well deserved its title ; a room
giving upon the garden was used by Haw
thorne as his study ; and there, when not
wandering about the genial, broad - flagged
streets, or in the galleries and churches and
public gardens, he used to sit and sketch out
his romance — the English romance, I think,
not the Italian one. He did not write very
much as yet, however ; the weather would
have made it difficult to stay in-doors in
the daytime, even had the other attractions
to go forth not been so alluring ; and in the
evenings [Hiram] Powers or some other
friend was apt to come in, or he visited
Powers's studio, or went to Casa Guidi, near
by, where the Brownings were."
Elsewhere Mr. Julian Hawthorne writes : —
" Such friends as Powers and Mr. and Mrs.
Browning afforded all that nature and art
could not supply ; and the freedom from all
present labor and all anxiety for the mor-

66

row gave an inward pleasantness to every
moment. I believe this to have been upon
the whole the happiest period of Hawthorne's
life." " The Casa Bella," wrote Hawthorne him
self, " is a palace of three pianos ; ... to me
has been assigned the pleasantest room for
my study, and when I like I can overflow
into the summer-house or an arbor, and sit
there dreaming of a story." The Casa Bella
is now numbered 124 Via de' Serragli. It is
on the right-hand side of the street as one
goes towards the Porta Romana, and a few
doors below the Torrigiani Gardens. It is
still a fresh and bright looking edifice. And
the summer-house, preserved intact, is still
the spot in which one would choose, above
all others, to sit and muse, and dream of a
story. In August the heat of Florence drove the
Hawthornes out of the city ; and they took
the Villa Montaiito, the villa on a hill called
Bello Sguardo, about a mile beyond the Porta
Romana. " Near at hand," says the son,
" across the gray groves of olives, was the

CASA BELLA

67
tower to which Mrs. Browning had attached
her poem of Aurora Leigh, and Galileo's
Tower was also visible from our battlements.
. . . The Villa Montaiito was, as readers of
Hawthorne know, the prototype of that of
Monte Beni ; though the latter is placed in
another region." It was in this mouldering
stronghold that Hawthorne wrote the first
sketch of the Marble Faun.
Hawthorne has put on record that he saw
Bryant here, at the Hotel New York, in
1858. As Venice is the resort of German brides,
so is Florence the paradise of spinsters of
all ages and all climes. At five of the clock,
of almost every afternoon of the year, the
rattle of teaspoons is heard in every pen
sion in the town, from Paoli's to the Villa
Trollope; and there is consumed daily, at
that hour, enough thin bread-and-butter to
shingle the roof of Vieusseux's Scientific and
Literary Reading-Room, in the Via Torna-
buoni. Mary Ann Evans, better known to the
world as " George Eliot," when she first came

68
to Florence was a spinster — as she herself
acknowledged in probating the will of Mr.
Lewes many years later — and without ques
tion she was the greatest of all the spin
sters who were ever cheered in Florence by
the non-inebriating cup.
George Eliot and Lewes arrived in Flor
ence in May, i860. "We took up our quar
ters in the Pension Suisse," she wrote in her
Journal, " and on the first evening we took
the most agreeable drive to be had round
Florence, the drive to Fiesole." This prob
ably was the H6tel de Londres et Pension
Suisse, No. 13 Via Tornabuoni.
A few days later she wrote to John Black
wood : — " We are at the quietest hotel in
Florence, having sought it out for the sake
of getting clear of the stream of English and
Americans." " Dear Florence was lovelier than ever on
this second view," wrote George Eliot, in her
Journal, May 5th, 1861, "and ill-health was
the only deduction from perfect enjoyment.
We had comfortable quarters on the Alber-
go della Vittoria, on the Arno ; and we had

69
the best news from England about the suc
cess of Silas Marner. . . . We arrived in
Florence on the 4th May, and left it on the
7th June — thirty-four days of precious time
spent there. Will it be all in vain? Our
morning hours were spent in looking at
streets, buildings, and pictures, in hunting
up old books at shops or stalls, or in reading
at the Magliabecchiana Library." This is a
portion of the National Library in the Uffizi.
There is a tradition in Florence that she
wrote Romola in the Villa Trollope, in the
Piazza Indipendenza, now a well-known pen
sion ; and her rooms are still pointed out to
the inmates, and still bear her name. The
windows, one flight up, look towards the
south ; and when there is any sun in Sunny
Italy it shines in all its Italian glory upon
them. These rooms have since been occu
pied by Mr. Thomas Hardy — as is most fit
ting — and it would be pleasant to think of
Romola and Tess as sitting down there in
harmony together ; but while George Eliot
certainly called upon the Trollopes in this
house, neither does she nor Mr. Trollope

7o
hint anywhere as to her having been their
guest there, even for a night. And Romola
was written and finished, entirely in Lon
don, in 1861, 1862, and 1863!
Trollope wrote, in What I Remember : —
" I had much talk with George Eliot during
the time — very short, at Florence — when
she was maturing her Italian novel Romola."
And later he said: — "In 1869-70 George
Eliot and Mr. Lewes visited Italy for the
fourth time. I had since the date of their
former visit quitted my house in Florence,
and established myself in a villa and small
podere at Ricorboli, a commune outside the
Florentine Porta S. Nicol6. And there I
had the great pleasure of receiving them
under my roof. . . . Their visit, all too short
a one — less than a week, I think."
Thomas Adolphus Trollope and his moth
er came to live in Florence in 1843. "After
some little time and trouble," the son wrote,
" we found an apartment in the Palazzo
Berti, in the ominously named Via dei Mal-
contenti. Our house was the one next to
the east end of the Church of S. Croce.

GATEWAY OF THE ENGLISH CEMETERY

71
Our rooms looked on to a large garden and
were pleasant enough."
The church stands between this building
and the house which was occupied by Leigh
Hunt twenty years earlier.
After his marriage to his first wife, Theo-
dosia Garrow, in 1848, Trollope moved into
the mansion which still bears his name, and
where his mother died in 1863, and his wife
two years later.
The Villa Trollope stands on the corner
of the great Piazza Indipendenza and the
little Via Vincenzo Salvagnoli, once the Via
del Podere. It is a plain, three-storied edi
fice, bearing a tablet stating that in this
house on the 15 th April, 1865, died Theo-
dosia Garrow Trollope, who " with the soul
of an Italian wrote, in English, of the strug
gle and triumph of Liberty."
After the death of the first Mrs. Trollope
her husband sold this house and moved
into the Villa Emelia, No. 41 Via del Ponte
a Ema and beyond the Porta S. Nicold.
At the elder Mrs. Trollope's weekly re
unions appeared every one of any note in

vX

72
Florence, and many of no note whatever;
but all were most kindly and most hospita
bly received ; the lion-hunters no doubt, as
is their way, often driving the lions them
selves out into the jungle of their own do
mestic privacy.
Two low, simple, white marble stones,
facing each other, in the centre of the Eng
lish Cemetery, and on a narrow winding
path to the left of the main path, as one
enters the grounds, mark the graves of
X Frances and Theodosia Trollope. Latin in
scriptions record their virtues, their names,
and their ages ; and they lie but a few feet
from Landor, and almost immediately be-
'? hind Mrs. Browning. Arthur Hugh Clough,
••* Theodore Parker, and James Lorimer Gra
ham, Jr., are their neighbors; and within
that little cemetery's walls are contained the
most sacred and the most realistic of all the
Literary Landmarks of Florence to-day.

INDEX OF PERSONS

Albany, Countess of,
48.
Alfieri, Vittorio, 47-48.
Amanetti, Francesco de',
13-14-
Amerigo Vespucci, 38-40.
Baldelli, Signor, quot
ed, 17-18.
Bartolommeo, Fra, 25.
Beatrice Portinari, 6, 8,
9-10.
Benvenuto Cellini, 2, 55.
Boccaccio, 1, 10, 13-22,
44- 53. 54, 55-
Boccaccio, quoted, 5, 16-
17-
Bondi, Signor, 11.
Brown, Charles Armi-
tage, 53.
Browning, Elizabeth Bar
rett, 60-64, 65-66, 67, 72.
Browning, Robert, 60-64,
65-66.
Bryant, William Cullen,
67.
Buontalenti, Bernardo,
42-43-
Butler, Samuel, quoted,
40.

Byron, Lord, 49-50.
Calvi, Cesare, quoted,
8-9.
Canova, 34, 48.
Clemens, Samuel L., 15-
16.
Clough, Arthur Hugh, 72.
Cooper, James Feni-
more, 58-59.
Dante, 1-13.
Dickens, Charles, 57.
Dumas, Alexandre, Jr.,
quoted, 47-48.
"Eliot, George," 67-70.
Evans, Mary Anne, 67-70.
Evelyn, John, 44.
Fiske, Willard, 55-56.
Galileo, i, 26, 31-37,
38.
" George Eliot," 67-70.
Graham, James Lorimer,
Jr., 72.
Gray, Thomas, 44.
Guicciardini, Francesco,
41-42.

74

Guido Reni, 34.
Hardy, Thomas, 69.
Hare, Augustus J. C,
quoted, 13-14.
Hawthorne, Julian, quot
ed, 64-65, 65-66, 66-67.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel,
64-67.
Hawthorne, Nathaniel,
quoted, 29, 63.
Hazlitt, William, 53.
Hillard, George S., quot
ed, 62.
Horner, Joanna, quoted,
36, 42.
Horner, Susan, quoted,
36, 42.
Howells, William Dean,
quoted, 1-2, 3, 14, 23.
Hunt, Leigh, 50-54, 71.
Hunt, Leigh, quoted, 37.
Jameson, Anna, 60.
Kirkup, Seymour, 53.
Landau, Marcus, quot
ed, 20.
Landor, Walter Savage,
53. 55-58, 72.
Lever, Charles, 59-60.
Lewes, George Henry,
68-70.
Locker - Lampson, Fred
erick, quoted, 56-57.
Longfellow, Henry Wads
worth, 54-55.
Lowell, James Russell,
64.

Macaulay, Thomas
Babington, quoted,
40.
Macchiavelli, Niccolo,
40-41.
Mann, Horace, 44-46.
Marcotti, J., quoted, 4-5,
10-11.
" Mark Twain," 15-16.
Masson, David, quoted,
38.
Medici,de', Ferdinand II.,
26, 33.
Medici, de', Lorenzo, 26-
29.
Michael Angelo, 2, 29, 34.
Milton, John, 33, 35, 37-
38, 49-
Montaigne, 43-44.
Norton, Charles Eli
ot, quoted, 5, 7.
Parker, Theodore, 72.
Petrarch, 22.
Pius VII., quoted, 24-25.
Poliziano, quoted, 27.
Powers, Hiram, 65.
Rogers, Samuel, 50.
Ross, Henry, 15, 16, 21.
Ross, Janet, 15, 16, 20.
Ruskin, John, quoted, 31.
Savonarola, i, 23-27,
29-31.
Shelley, Percy Bysshe, 50.
Smollett, Tobias, 46-47.
Tasso, 42-43.

75

Trollope, Frances Mil
ton, 60, 70-72.
Trollope, Theodosia Gar
row, 71-72.
Trollope, Thomas Adol-
phus, 70-72.
Vespucci, Amerigo, 38-
40.

Villari, Pasquale, quoted.
27-28.
Waldseemuller, Mar
tin, quoted, 39.
Walpole, Horace, 44-45.
Wilde, Richard Henry,
13-

INDEX OF PLACES

Accademia delle
Belle Arti, 55.
Accademia Filarmonica,
41.
Alberghettino, 29.
Alighieri, Villa, 11.
Amerigo Vespucci, Lung'
Arno, 39-40.
Ameto, Valley of, 21.
Angel Inn, 43.
Arcetri, 33-36, 42.
Arno, Hotel, 54.
Bardi, Via DE/13, 22.
Bargello, 12-13,23.
Bella, Casa, 64-66.
Belle Arti, Accademia
delle, 55.
Belle Donne, Via delle,
50-52.
Bello Sguardo, 66-67.
Bernardo, S., Chapel of,
30-
Berti, Palazzo, 70.
Boccaccio, Via, 14.
Bondi, Villa, 10-11.
Calzajoli, Via, 3.
Camerata, Hill, 10-11.
Camerata, Villa, 10.

Canigiana, Palazzo, 22.
Careggi, Villa, 26, 27.
Carraia, Ponte alia, 39.
Casa —
Bella, 64-66.
Dante, 2-4, 8.
Galileo, 32-33.
Guidi, 60-64, 65.
Cathedral, 3, 11, 12.
Cavour, Via, 29.
Cemetery, English, 58, 64,
72.
Cepparello, Palazzo, 9.
Certaldo, 19, 20.
Chiesa, Via della, 57-58.
Churches —
Bernardo, S., 30.
Cathedral, 3, 11, 12.
Croce, S„ 36, 41,48, 51,
70-71.
Duomo, 3, 11, 12.
Felicita,, S., 61.
Giovanni, S., 55.
Leonardo, S., 60.
Lorenzo, S., 29.
Marco, S., 23-25, 30.
Maria Carmine, S., 58.
Maria Novella, S., 54.
Martino, S., 2, 4-5.
Medici Chapel, 50.

78

Michele, S., 25.
Misericordia, 13.
Ognissanti, 39.
Stefano, S., 13, 55.
Cinquecento, Sala dei,
29-30.
Consiglio, Hall, 29.
Corsini, Lung' Arno, 47.
Corso, Via del, 6-7, 8, 9.
Crawford, Villa, 10, 14,
17-18.
Croce, S., Church, 36, 41,
48, 51, 70-71.
Croce, S., Piazza, 41, 51,
52.
Dante Alighieri, Via,
3.8.
Dante's House, 2-4, 8.
Dante's Meadow, 10-11,
Dante s Stone, 11, 12.
Duomo, 3, 11, 12.
Duomo, Piazza del, 12.
Emelia, Villa, 71.
English Cemetery, 58, 64,
72.
Felicita,S.,Church,6i.Felicita, S„ Piazza, 43, 60.
Fiesole, 10, 14, 55, 57, 68.
Fontanella, Via della, 55.
Fossi, Via dei, 39.
Fosso, Via del, 41.
Fountain of Neptune, 30.
Galileo, Casa, 32-33.
Galileo's Tower, 33 - 35,
36, 41, 67.

Galileo, Villa, 35-36.
Gallo, S., Porta, 10, 14,
55-
Garofano, 11.
Gherardo, Villa, 15-18
20-22, 53.
Giorgio, S., Costa, 32-33
Giorgio, S., Porta, 60.
Giotto's Tower, 55.
Giovanni, S., Church, 55
Giullari, Via del Piano di
35-36.
Gran Duca, Piazza del
30-31, 54-55.
Great Britain, Hotel, 45.
Guicciardini, Via, 18-19,
40-41, 41-42.
Guidi, Casa, 60-64, 65.
Hospital of the
Monks of Vallom
brosa, 51, 52.
Hotels —
Angel, 43.
Arno, 54.
Great Britain, 45.
Londres, 68.
New York, 67.
Norte, 64.
Suisse, 68.
Victoria, 68.
Illario, S., Villa, 59.
Indipendenza, Piazza, 69,
7i-
Jacopo, S., Borgo, 19.
Landor, Villa, 55-57.
Leonardo, S., Church, 60.

79

Leonardo, S., Via, 59-60.
Leonardo, S., Villa, 59-60.
Loggia dei Lanzi, 55.
Londres, Hotel de, 68.
Lorenzo, S., Church, 29.
Lung' Arno, 45, 54.
Lung' Arno Amerigo
Vespucci, 39-40.
Lung' Arno Corsini, 47.
Macerelli, Via, 27.
Maggio, Via, 43, 60 bis.
Magliabecchiana Library,
69.
Maiano, 17, 53.
Maiano, Villeggiatura di,
20-21.
Malcontenti, Via dei, 70.
Manelli, Palazzo, 13-14,
22.
Marco, S., Convent, 23-
25' 3°- „ „.
Margherita, S., Piazzetta
della, 9.
Margherita, S., Via, 8, 9.
Maria Carmine, S., Con
vent, 58.
Maria Novella,S.,Church,
54-
Maria Novella, S., Piazza,
54-
Marsili, Via, 43.
Martino, S., Church, 2,
4-5-
Martino, S., Piazza, 3, 8.
Martino, S., Via, 2-3.
Masetti, Palazzo, 47-48.
Meadow of Dante, 10-11,
23-
Medici Chapel, 50.

Medici, Palazzo, 29.
Michele, S., Church, 25.
Misericordia, 13.
Montaiito, Villa, 66-67.
Morta, Via della, 13.
Museum of Natural His
tory, 37.
Neptune, Fountain of,
3°-
New York, Hotel, 67.
Nicolo, S., Porta, 70,
7i-
Norte, Albergo del, 64.
Nunziatina, Via della, 57-
58.
Ognissanti, Borgo, 39.
Ognissanti, Church, 39.
Padua, 32.
Pagliano, Teatro, 41.
Palaces —
Berti, 70.
Canigiana, 22.
Cepparello, 9.
Manelli, 13-14, 22.
Masetti, 47-48.
Medici, 29.
Pitti, 61.
Riccardi, 29.
Salviati, 6-7.
Uffizi, 13, 30, 55, 69.
Vecchio, 29, 30, 55.
Palmieri, Villa, 10, 14, 17-
18.
Piazza —
Croce, S., 41, 51, 52.
Duomo, 12.
Felicita, S., 43, 60.

8o

Gran Duca, 30-31, 54-
55-
Indipendenza, 69, 71.
Margherita, S., 9.
Maria Novella, S„ 54.
Martino, S., 3, 8.
Pitti, 60.
Rena, 9.
Signoria, 30-31, 54-55.
Spirito Santo, 44.
Zuavi, 39.
Piazzola, Via della, 10.
Pisa, 31.
Pitti, Palazzo, 61.
Pitti, Piazza, 60.
Podere, Via del, 71.
Poggio Imperiale, Viale
di, 34-
Ponte —
Trinita, S., 43, 45, 47.
Vecchio, 13, 40, 45, 54,
55-
Ponte a Ema, Via del,
7i-
Ponte Rosso, Barrier, 27.
Porta— Gallo, S., 10, 14, 55.
Giorgio, S., 60.
Nicol6, S„ 70, 71.
Romana, 33-34, 35, 66
bis.
Porta S. Maria, Via, 13.
Proconsolo, Via del, 6-7,
9-
Rena, Piazza della, 9.
Riccardi, Palazzo, 29.
Ricorboli, 70.
Romana, Porta, 33-34, 35,
66 bis.

Ross, Villa, 15-18, 20-22,
53-
Sala dei Cinquecen
to, 29-30.
Salviati, Palazzo, 6-7.
Santo, Spirito, Piazza, 44.
Serragli, Via de', 66.
Settignanese, Via, 15.
Settignano, 15, 53.
Sguardo, Bello, 66-67.
Signoria, Piazza della,
30-31, 54-55.
Spirito Santo, Piazza, 44.
Stefano, S., Church, 13,
55-
Stinche, Prison, 41.
Suisse, Pension, 68.
Tavolini, Via, 3.
Teatro Pagliano, 41.
Tornabuoni, Via, 51, 67,
68.
Torrigiani Gardens, 66.
Toscanella, Via, 18-19.
Tower of Galileo, 33-35,
36, 41, 67.
Trinita, S., Ponte, 43, 45,
47-
Trollope, Villa, 60, 69-70.
71-72.
Uffizi Gallery, 12-13.
Uffizi, Palazzo, 13, 30, 55,
69.
Vecchio, Palazzo, 29,
30, 55-
Vecchio, Ponte, 13, 40,
45, 54, 55-

8i

Via— Bardi, 13, 22.
Belle Donne, 50-52.
Boccaccio, 14.
Calzajoli, 3.
Cavour, 29.
Chiesa, 57-58.
Corso, 6-7, 8, 9.
Dante Alighieri, 3, 8.
Fontanelle, 55.
Fossi, 39,
Fosso, 41.
Giullari, Piano di, 35-
36.
Guicciardini, 18-19,40-
41, 41-42.
Leonardo, S., 59-60.
Macerelli, 27.
Maggio, 43, 60 bis.
Malcontenti, 70.
Margherita, S., 8, 9.
Marsili, 43.
Martino, S., 23.
Morta, 13.
Nunziatina, 57-58.
Piazzola, 10.
Podere, 71.
Ponte a Ema, 71.
Porta S. Maria, 13.
Proconsolo, 6-7, 9.
Serragli, 66.
Settignanese, 15.
Tavolini, 3.

Tornabuoni, 51, 67, 68.
Toscanella, 18-19.
Vincenzo Salvagnoli,
7i.
Vittorio Emanuele, 27.
Victoria Hotel, 68.
Vieusseux's Library, 67.
Villa— Alighieri, 11.
Bondi, 10-11.
Camerata, 10.
Careggi, 26, 27.
Crawford, 10, 14, 17-
18.
Emelia, 71.
Galileo, 35-36.
Gherardo, 15-18, 20-
22, S3-
Illario, S., 59.
Landor, 55-57.
Leonardo, S., 59-60.
Montaiito, 66^67.
Palmieri, 10, 14, 17-18.
Ross, 15-18, 20-22, 53.
Trollope, 60, 69 - 70,
71-72.
Vincenzo Salvagnoli, Via,
7i.
Vittorio Emanuele, Via,
27.
Zuavi, Piazza degli,
39-

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