scribed. What would have happened, we wonder, if Messer Benedetto,
the learned jurist, had not espoused the Medicean cause and
embroiled himself with murderous antagonists? Would the little
Angelo have grown up in this quiet town, and practised law, and
lived and died a citizen of Montepulciano? In that case the
lecture-rooms of Florence would never have echoed to the sonorous
hexameters of the 'Rusticus' and 'Ambra.' Italian literature would
have lacked the 'Stanze' and 'Orfeo.' European scholarship would
have been defrauded of the impulse given to it by the 'Miscellanea.'
The study of Roman law would have missed those labours on the
Pandects, with which the name of Politian is honourably associated.
From the Florentine society of the fifteenth century would have
disappeared the commanding central figure of humanism, which now
contrasts dramatically with the stern monastic Prior of S. Mark.
Benedetto's tragic death gave Poliziano to Italy and to posterity.

VI

Those who have a day to spare at Montepulciano can scarcely spend it
better than in an excursion to Pienza and San Quirico. Leaving the
city by the road which takes a westerly direction, the first object
of interest is the Church of San Biagio, placed on a fertile plateau
immediately beneath the ancient acropolis. It was erected by Antonio
di San Gallo in 1518, and is one of the most perfect specimens
existing of the sober classical style. The Church consists of a
Greek square, continued at the east end into a semicircular tribune,
surmounted by a central cupola, and flanked by a detached
bell-tower, ending in a pyramidal spire. The whole is built of solid
yellow travertine, a material which, by its warmth of colour, is
pleasing to the eye, and mitigates the mathematical severity of the
design. Upon entering, we feel at once what Alberti called the music
of this style; its large and simple harmonies, depending for effect
upon sincerity of plan and justice of balance. The square masses of
the main building, the projecting cornices and rounded tribune, meet
together and soar up into the cupola; while the grand but austere
proportions of the arches and the piers compose a symphony of
perfectly concordant lines. The music is grave and solemn,
architecturally expressed in terms of measured space and outlined
symmetry. The whole effect is that of one thing pleasant to look
upon, agreeably appealing to our sense of unity, charming us by
grace and repose; not stimu