Florence.
The Florentines imputed the decay of the republic to the circumstance
of their Sovereign residing in another country; and they imagined, that
wealth would accumulate all over Tuscany, and flow into Florence, from
various quarters, as soon as they should have a residing Prince, and a
Court established. It appears, that their hopes were too sanguine, or at
least premature. Commerce is still in a languid condition, in spite of
all the pains taken by the Great Duke to revive it.
The Jews are not held in that degree of odium, or subjected to the same
humiliating distinctions here, as in most other cities of Europe. I
am told, some of the richest merchants are of that religion. Another
class of mankind, who are also reprobated in some countries, are in
this looked on in the same light with other citizens. I mean the actors
and singers at the different Theatres. Why Christians, in any country,
should have the same prejudice against them as against Jews, many are
at a loss to know; it cannot, certainly, be on the same account. Actors
and actresses have never been accused of an obstinate, or superstitious
adherence to the principles or ceremonies of any _false religion_
whatever.
To attempt a description of the churches, palaces, and other public
buildings, would lead, in my opinion, to a very unentertaining detail.
Few cities, of its size, in Europe, however, afford so fine a field of
amusement to those who are fond of such subjects; though the lovers of
architecture will be shocked to find several of the finest churches
without fronts, which, according to some, is owing to a real deficiency
of money; while others assert, they are left in this condition, as a
pretext for levying contributions to finish them.
The chapel of St. Lorenzo is, perhaps, the finest and most expensive
habitation that ever was reared for the dead; it is encrusted with
precious stones, and adorned by the workmanship of the best modern
sculptors. Some complain that, after all, it has a gloomy appearance.
There seems to be no impropriety in that, considering what the building
was intended for; though, certainly, the same effect might have been
produced at less expence. Mr. Addison remarked, that this chapel advanced
so very slowly, that it is not impossible but the family of Medicis may
be extinct before their burial-place is finished. This has actually
taken place: the Medici family is extinct, and the chapel remains still
unfinished.
Of all the methods by which the vanity of the Great has distinguished
them from the rest of mankind, this of erecting splendid receptacles
for their bones, excites the least envy. The sight of the most superb
edifice of this kind, never drew a repining sigh from the bosom of
one poor person; nor do the unsuccessful complain, that the bodies of
Fortune’s favourites rot under Parian marble, while their own will, in
all probability, be allowed to moulder beneath a plain turf.
I have already mentioned the number of statues which ornament the streets
and squares of Florence, and how much they are respected by the common
people. I am told, they amount in all to above one hundred and fifty,
many of them of exquisite workmanship, and admired by those of the best
taste. Such a number of statues, without any drapery, continually exposed
to the public eye, with the far greater number of pictures, as well as
statues, in the same state, to be seen in the palaces, have produced, in
both sexes, the most perfect insensibility to nudities.
Ladies who have remained some time at Rome and Florence, particularly
those who affect a taste for virtù, acquire an intrepidity and a cool
minuteness, in examining and criticising naked figures, which is unknown
to those who have never passed the Alps. There is something in the figure
of the God of Gardens, which is apt to alarm the modesty of a novice; but
I have heard of female dilettantes who minded it no more than a straw.
The Palazzo Pitti, where the Great Duke resides, is on the opposite side
of the Arno from the Gallery. It has been enlarged since it was purchased
from the ruined family of Pitti. The furniture of this palace is rich
and curious, particularly some tables of Florentine work, which are much
admired. The most precious ornaments, however, are the paintings. The
walls of what is called the Imperial Chamber, are painted in fresco, by
various painters; the subjects are allegorical, and in honour of Lorenzo
of Medicis, distinguished by the name of the Magnificent. There is more
fancy than taste displayed in those paintings. The other principal rooms
are distinguished by the names of Heathen Deities, as Jupiter, Apollo,
Mars, Venus, and by paintings in fresco, mostly by Pietro da Cortona. In
the last mentioned, the subjects are different from what is naturally
expected from the name of the room, being representations of the triumphs
of Virtue over Love, or some memorable instance of continency. As the
Medici family have been more distinguished for the protection they
afforded the arts, than for the virtues of continency or self-denial, it
is probable, the subject, as well as the execution of these pieces, was
left entirely to the painter.
I happened lately to be at this palace, with a person who is perfectly
well acquainted with all the pictures of any merit in Florence. While
he explained the peculiar excellencies of Pietro’s manner, a gentleman
in company, who, although he does not pretend to the smallest skill
in pictures, would rather remain ignorant for ever, than listen to
the lectures of a connoisseur, walked on, by himself, into the other
apartments, while I endeavoured to profit by my instructor’s knowledge.
When the other gentleman returned, he said, “I know no more of painting
than my pointer; but there is a picture in one of the other rooms, which
I would rather have than all those you seem to admire so much; it is the
portrait of a healthy, handsome, country woman, with her child in her
arms. There is nothing interesting in the subject, to be sure, because
none of us are personally acquainted with the woman. But I cannot help
thinking the colours very natural. The young woman’s countenance is
agreeable, and expressive of fondness and the joy of a mother over a
first-born. The child is a robust, chubby-cheeked fellow; such as the son
of a peasant should be.”
We followed him into the room, and the picture which pleased him so
much, was the famous Madonna della Seggiola of Raphael. Our instructor
immediately called out Viva! and pronounced him a man of genuine taste;
because, without any previous knowledge or instruction, he had fixed his
admiration on the finest picture in Florence. But this gentleman, as soon
as he understood what the picture was, disclaimed all title to praise;
“because,” said he, “although, when I considered that picture, simply
as the representation of a blooming country wench hugging her child, I
admired the art of the painter, and thought it one of the truest copies
of nature I ever saw; yet, I confess, my admiration is much abated, now
that you inform me his intention was to represent the Virgin Mary.” “Why
so?” replied the Cicerone; “the Virgin Mary was not of higher rank. She
was but a poor woman, living in a little village in Galilee.” “No rank
in life,” said the other, “could give additional dignity to the person
who had been told by an Angel from heaven, that she had found favour
with God; that her Son should be called the Son of the Highest; and who,
herself, was conscious of all the miraculous circumstances attending
his conception and birth. In the countenance of such a woman, besides
comeliness, and the usual affection of a mother, I looked for the most
lively expression of admiration, gratitude, virgin modesty, and divine
love. And when I am told, the picture is by the greatest painter that
ever lived, I am disappointed in perceiving no traces of that kind in
it.” What justice there is in this gentleman’s remarks, I leave it to
better judges than I pretend to be, to determine.
After our diurnal visit to the Gallery, we often pass the rest of the
forenoon in the gardens belonging to this palace. The vale of Arno;
the gay hills that surround it; and other natural beauties to be viewed
from thence, form an agreeable variety, even to eyes which have been
feasting on the most exquisite beauties of art. The pleasure arising from
both, however, diminishes by repetition; but may be again excited by the
admiration of a new spectator, of whose taste and sensibility you have a
good opinion. I experienced this on the arrival of Mr. F——r, a gentleman
of sense, honour, and politeness, whose company gave fresh relish to our
other enjoyments in this place. It is now some time since he left us; and
I am not at all unhappy in the thoughts of proceeding, in a day or two,
to Bologna, in our road to Milan.