although of course larger and with certain modern additions,
such as factory chimneys, railway lines, and so forth--but you can see
the remains of the fortifications which he constructed in 1529, and
which kept the Imperial troops at bay for nearly a year. Just across
the river rises S. Croce, where the great man is buried, and beyond,
over the red roofs, the dome of the Medici chapel at S. Lorenzo shows
us the position of the Biblioteca Laurenziana and the New Sacristy,
both built by him. Immediately below us is the church of S. Niccolo,
where he is said to have hidden in 1529, when there was a hue and
cry for him. In the middle of this spacious plateau is a bronze
reproduction of his David, and it is good to see it, from the cafe
behind it, rising head and shoulders above the highest Apennines.

S. Miniato, the church on the hill-top above the Piazzale Michelangelo,
deserves many visits. One may not be too greatly attached to marble
facades, but this little temple defeats all prejudices by its radiance
and perfection, and to its extraordinary charm its situation adds. It
crowns the hill, and in the late afternoon--the ideal time to visit
it--is full in the eye of the sun, bathed in whose light the green
and white facade, with miracles of delicate intarsia, is balm to the
eyes instead of being, as marble so often is, dazzling and cold.

On the way up we pass the fine church of S. Salvatore, which Cronaca
of the Palazzo Vecchio and Palazzo Strozzi built and Michelangelo
admired, and which is now secularized, and pass through the gateway of
Michelangelo's upper fortifications. S. Miniato is one of the oldest
churches of Florence, some of it eleventh century. It has its name
from Minias, a Roman soldier who suffered martyrdom at Florence under
Decius. Within, one does not feel quite to be in a Christian church,
the effect partly of the unusual colouring, all grey, green, and gold
and soft light tints as of birds' bosoms; partly of the ceiling,
which has the bright hues of a Russian toy; partly of the forest
of great gay columns; partly of the lovely and so richly decorated
marble screen; and partly of the absence of a transept. The prevailing
feeling indeed is gentle gaiety; and in the crypt this is intensified,
for it is just a joyful assemblage of dancing arches.

The church as a whole is beautiful and memorable enough; but
its details are wonderful too, from the niello pavement, and
the translucent marble windows of