r lived to be.

S. Lorenzo was a very old church in the time of Giovanni de' Medici,
the first great man of the family, and had already been restored
once, in the eleventh century, but it was his favourite church,
chosen by him for his own resting-place, and he spent great sums
in improving it. All this with the assistance of Brunelleschi, who
is responsible for the interior as we now see it, and would, had he
lived, have completed the facade. After Giovanni came Cosimo, who also
devoted great sums to the glory of this church, not only assisting
Brunelleschi with his work but inducing Donatello to lavish his genius
upon it; and the church was thus established as the family vault of
the Medici race. Giovanni lies here; Cosimo lies here; and Piero;
while Lorenzo the Magnificent and Giuliano and certain descendants
were buried in the Michelangelo sacristy, and all the Grand Dukes in
the ostentatious chapel behind the altar.

Cosimo is buried beneath the floor in front of the high altar,
in obedience to his wish, and by the special permission of the
Roman Church; and in the same vault lies Donatello. Cosimo, who
was buried with all simplicity on August 22nd, 1464, in his last
illness recommended Donatello, who was then seventy-eight, to his son
Piero. The old sculptor survived his illustrious patron and friend
only two and a half years, declining gently into the grave, and his
body was brought here in December, 1466. A monument to his memory
was erected in the church in 1896. Piero (the Gouty), who survived
until 1469, lies close by, his bronze monument, with that of his
brother, being that between the sacristy and the adjoining chapel,
in an imposing porphyry and bronze casket, the work of Verrocchio, one
of the richest and most impressive of all the memorial sculptures of
the Renaissance. The marble pediment is supported by four tortoises,
such as support the monoliths in the Piazza S. Maria Novella. The
iron rope work that divides the sacristy from the chapel is a marvel
of workmanship.

But we go too fast: the church before the sacristy, and the glories of
the church are Donatello's. We have seen his cantoria in the Museum of
the Cathedral. Here is another, not so riotous and jocund in spirit,
but in its own way hardly less satisfying. The Museum cantoria has
the wonderful frieze of dancing figures; this is an exercise in
marble intarsia. It has the same row of pillars with little specks
of mosaic gold; but its beau