himself we may see among
the statues under the Uffizi and again in the place of honour (as a
goldsmith) in the centre of the Ponte Vecchio. Looking at the Perseus
and remembering Donatello, one realizes that what Cellini wanted was
character. He had temperament enough but no character. Perseus is
superb, commanding, distinguished, and one doesn't care a fig for it.

On entering the Palazzo Vecchio we come instantly to one of the most
charming things in Florence--Verrocchio's fountain--which stands
in the midst of the courtyard. This adorable work--a little bronze
Cupid struggling with a spouting dolphin--was made for Lorenzo de'
Medici's country villa at Careggi and was brought here when the
palazzo was refurnished for Francis I, Cosimo I's son and successor,
and his bride, Joanna of Austria, in 1565. Nothing could better
illustrate the accomplishment and imaginative adaptability of the great
craftsmen of the day than the two works of Verrocchio that we have
now seen: the Christ and S. Thomas at Or San Michele, in Donatello
and Michelozzo's niche, and this exquisite fountain splashing water
so musically. Notice the rich decorations of the pillars of this
courtyard and the rich colour and power of the pillars themselves. The
half-obliterated frescoes of Austrian towns on the walls were made to
prevent Joanna from being homesick, but were more likely, one would
guess, to stimulate that malady. In the left corner is the entrance
to the old armoury, now empty, with openings in the walls through
which pieces might be discharged at various angles on any advancing
host. The groined ceiling could support a pyramid.

The Palazzo Vecchio's ground floor is a series of thoroughfares in
which people are passing continually amid huge pillars and along
dark passages; but our way is up the stone steps immediately to the
left on leaving the courtyard where Verrocchio's child eternally
smiles, for the steps take us to that vast hall designed by Cronaca
for Savonarola's Great Council, which was called into being for the
government of Florence after the luckless Piero de' Medici had been
banished in 1494. Here much history was made. As to its structure
and its architect, Vasari, who later was called in to restore it,
has a deal to say, but it is too technical for us. It was built
by Simone di Pollaiuolo, who was known as Cronaca (the Chronicler)
from his vivid way of telling his adventures. Cronaca (1454-1508),
who was a personal friend