children on it. Among the heads is a colossal Alexander,
very fine indeed, a beautiful Antoninus, a benign and silly Roman
lady in whose existence one can quite believe, and a melancholy
Seneca. Look also at Nos. 330 and 332, on the wall: 330, a charming
genius, carrying one of Jove's thunderbolts; and 332, a boy who is
sheer Luca della Robbia centuries before his birth.

I ought to add that, in addition to the various salons in the Uffizi,
the long corridors are hung with pictures too, in chronological order,
the earliest of all being to the right of the entrance door, and in
the corridors there is also some admirable statuary. But the pictures
here, although not the equals of those in the rooms, receive far too
little attention, while the sculpture receives even less, whether the
beutiful full-length athletes or the reliefs on the cisterns, several
of which have riotous Dionysian processions. On the stairs, too, are
some very beautiful works; while at the top, in the turnstile room, is
the original of the boar which Tacca copied in bronze for the Mercato
Nuovo, and just outside it are the Medici who were chiefly concerned
with the formation of the collection. On the first landing, nearest
the ground, is a very beautiful and youthful Bacchus. The ceilings
of the Uffizi rooms and corridors also are painted, thoughtfully
and dexterously, in the Pompeian manner; but there are limits to the
receptive capacity of travellers' eyes, and I must plead guilty to
consistently neglecting them.

CHAPTER XII

"Aerial Fiesole"

Andrea del Sarto--Fiesole sights--The Villa Palmieri
and the "Decameron"--Botticini's picture in the National
Gallery--S. Francesco--The Roman amphitheatre--The Etruscan museum--A
sculptor's walk--The Badia di Fiesole--Brunelleschi again--Giovanni
di San Giovanni.

After all these pictures, how about a little climbing? From so many
windows in Florence, along so many streets, from so many loggias and
towers, and perhaps, above all, from the Piazzale di Michelangelo,
Fiesole is to be seen on her hill, with the beautiful campanile of
her church in the dip between the two eminences, that very soon one
comes to feel that this surely is the promised land. Florence lies
so low, and the delectable mountain is so near and so alluring. But
I am not sure that to dream of Fiesole as desirable, and to murmur
its beautiful syllables, is not best.

Let me sit
Here by the window with your hand in mine,
An