Honthorsts are, as I say, the
most popular of the pictures on Sunday, when the Uffizi is free; but
their supremacy is challenged by the five inlaid tables, one of which,
chiefly in lapis lazuli, must be the bluest thing on earth.

Passing for the present the Sala di Niobe, we come to the Sala di
Giovanni di San Giovanni, which is given to a second-rate painter who
was born in 1599 and died in 1636. His best work is a fresco at the
Badia of Fiesole. Here he has some theatrical things, including one
picture which sends English ladies out blushing. Here also are some
Lelys, including "Nelly Gwynn". Next are two rooms, one leading from
the other, given to German and Flemish pictures and to miniatures,
both of which are interesting. In the first are more Duerers, and
that alone would make it a desirable resort. Here is a "Virgin and
Child"--No. 851--very naive and homely, and the beautiful portrait of
his father--No. 766---a symphony of brown and green. Less attractive
works from the same hand are the "Apostle Philip"--No. 777--and
"S. Giacomo Maggiore," an old man very coarsely painted by comparison
with the artist's father. Here also is a very beautiful portrait
of Richard Southwell, by Holbein, with the peacock-green background
that we know so well and always rejoice to see; a typical candle-light
Schalcken, No. 800; several golden Poelenburghs; an anonymous portrait
of Virgilius von Hytta of Zuicham, No. 784; a clever smiling lady by
Sustermans, No. 709; the Signora Puliciani and her husband, No. 699;
a rather crudely coloured Rubens--"Venus and Adonis"--No. 812; the
same artist's "Three Graces," in monochrome, very naked; and some
quaint portraits by Lucas Cranach.

But no doubt to many persons the most enchaining picture here is
the Medusa's head, which used to be called a Leonardo and quite
satisfied Ruskin of its genuineness, but is now attributed to the
Flemish school. The head, at any rate, would seem to be very similar
to that of which Vasari speaks, painted by Leonardo for a peasant,
but retained by his father. Time has dealt hardly with the paint, and
one has to study minutely before Medusa's horrors are visible. Whether
Leonardo's or not, it is not uninteresting to read how the picture
affected Shelley when he saw it here in 1819:--

... Its Horror and its Beauty are divine.
Upon its lips and eyelids seem to lie
Loveliness like a shadow, from which shine,
Fiery and lurid, struggling undern