great and regular space you come upon in the Piazza della
Signoria, such as the huge empty Place de la Concorde of Paris, but one
that is large enough for beauty, and full of the sweet variety of the
city; it is the symbol of Florence--a beautiful symbol.

In the morning the whole Piazza is full of sunlight, and swarming with
people: there, is a stall for newspapers; here, a lemonade merchant
dispenses his sweet drinks. Everyone is talking; at the corner of Via
Calzaioli a crowd has assembled, a crowd that moves and seems about to
dissolve, that constantly re-forms itself without ever breaking up. On
the benches of the loggia men lie asleep in the shadow, and children
chase one another among the statues. Everywhere and from all directions
cabs pass with much cracking of whips and hallooing. There stand two
Carabinieri in their splendid uniforms, surveying this noisy world; an
officer passes with his wife, leading his son by the hand; you may see
him lift his sword as he steps on the pavement. A group of tourists go
by, urged on by a gesticulating guide; he is about to show them the
statues in the loggia; they halt under the Perseus. He begins to speak
of it, while the children look up at him as though to catch what he is
saying in that foreign tongue.

And surely the Piazza, which has seen so many strange and splendid
things, may well tolerate this also; it is so gay, so full of life. Very
fair she seems under the sunlight, picturesque too, with her buildings
so different and yet so harmonious. On the right the gracious beauty of
the Loggia de' Lanzi; then before you the lofty, fierce old Palazzo
Vecchio; and beside it the fountains play in the farther Piazza. Cosimo
I rides by as though into Siena, while behind him rises the palace of
the Uguccioni, which Folfi made; and beside you the Calzaioli ebbs and
flows with its noisy life, as of old the busiest street of the city.

The Palazza Vecchio, peaceful enough now, but still with the fierce
gesture of war stands on one side, facing the Piazza, a fortress of huge
stones four storeys high--the last, thrust out from the wall and
supported by arches on brackets of stone, as though crowning the
palace itself. It stands almost four-square, and above rises the
beautiful tower, the highest tower in the city, with a gallery similar
to the last storey of the palace, and above a loggia borne by four
pillars, from which spring the great arches of the canopy that supports
the spir