et even they too are unfortunate. Indeed, very few statues
of this sort were made by the sculptors of the Renaissance; for the most
part they confined themselves to single figures and to groups in relief:
even Michelangelo but rarely attempted the "freestanding group." It is,
however, to such a work we come in the splendidly composed Rape of the
Sabines by Giovanni da Bologna in the Loggia itself. Spoiled a little by
its too laboured detail, its chief fault lies in the fact that it is
top-heavy, the sculptor having placed the mass of the group so high that
the base seems unsubstantial and unbalanced. Bologna's other group here,
Hercules and Nessus, which once stood at the foot of the Ponte Vecchio,
is dramatic and well composed, but the forms are feeble and even
insignificant. The antique group of Ajax dragging the body of Patrocles,
is not a very important copy of some great work, and it is much
restored: it was found in a vineyard near Rome.

The great fountain which plays beside the Palazzo, where of old the
houses of the Uberti stood, is rich and grandiose perhaps, but in some
unaccountable way adds much to the beauty of the Piazza. How gay and
full of life it is even yet, that splendid and bitter place, that in its
beauty and various, everlasting life seems to stand as the symbol of
this city, so scornful even in the midst of the overwhelming foreigner
who has turned her into a museum, a vast cemetery of art. Only here you
may catch something of the old life that is not altogether passed away.
Still, in spite of your eyes, you must believe there are Florentines
somewhere in the city, that they are still as in Dante's day proud and
wise and easily angry, scornful too, a little turbulent, not readily
curbed, but full of ambition--great nobles, great merchants, great
bankers. Does such an one never come to weep over dead Florence in this
the centre of her fame, the last refuge of her greatness, in the night,
perhaps, when none may see his tears, when all is hushed that none may
mark his sorrow?

[Illustration: WAX MODEL FOR THE PERSEUS IN THE BARGELLO

_Benvenuto Cellini_

_Alinari_]

It was past midnight when once more I came out of the narrow ways,
almost empty at that hour, when every footfall resounds between the old
houses, into the old Piazza to learn this secret. Far away in the sky
the moon swung like a censer, filling the place with a fragile and
lovely light. Standing there in the Piazza, quite deserted