All the legends and saints of the Roman Catholic church are painted, by the most eminent masters, on the walls, and in the chapels; and I believe it is generally from such representations that the populace learn their superstition,their national history, as well as that of their men of genius. This, indeed, would be a delightful method of learning, if truth were taught; but a deceptive master deserves no scholars.

The church of San Lorenzo next took our attention. Before the high altar, on the pavement, is a circular inscription, which runs thus:

COSMUS MEDICIS, HIC SITUS EST, DECRETO PUBLICO,

PATER PATRIÆ.

VIXIT ANNOS LXXO MENSES III DIES XX.

The troubles that followed the death of Lorenzo the Magnificent seem to have prevented his receiving a sumptuous monument; he merely shares a marble sarcophagus with his family; whilst Giuliano, his poor weak son, has a tomb in the sacristy, ornamented by the hand of Michael Angelo. Night is a very fine pensive figure; Day is not yet finished,—very emblematic of the state of religion here, thought I, as I gazed on the block. On the opposite side of the sacristy, in a Capella formed by Michael Angelo, is the tomb of Lorenzo, nephew to Lorenzo the Magnificent, and father to that detestable female, Catherine de' Medici, ornamented with two other figures, from the wonder-forming chisel of the same great sculptor.

Notwithstanding this gorgeous apparatus of tombs, the ashes of all the Medici are contained in a small vault in the subterranean church.

I cannot agree with some that the Capella de' Principi is

SAN LORENZO.

tawdry,—I think it truly magnificent. gonal building, with a noble dome. Tuscany, beginning with Cosmo I., soleum.

45

It is a large octaSix Grand Dukes of have here their mau

The pedestal that surrounds the whole building is of reddish jasper, from Borga; over it is an architrave of granite, from the Isle of Elba; and over that a broad rim of Flanders marble, purple. Then succeeds giallo-antico, enriched with jasper, from Sicily, Bohemia, Corsica, and violet marble from Carrara. On the walls are inlaid the arms of the chief cities of Tuscany, formed in coralline, lapis lazzuli, verde antico, madrepula, and oriental alabaster; and on the top is a globe of lapis lazzuli, with three lilies in yellow jasper of Sicily. Above all this are six sarcophagi of Egyptian granite, bordered with green jasper; on them the names of Cosmus I., Francis II., Ferdinand II., Cosmus IV., Ferdinand V., and Cosmus VI., Dukes of Tuscany, are inscribed.

The ornaments for the high altar are finishing in the Scuola delle belle Arte, and are most beautiful; the lofty dome is not yet completed. Certainly no Egyptian receptacle for the dead can be compared with this; and although my heart responded to the following exclamation of the poet, I could not help giving full credit to the artists of San Lorenzo :

"What is her pyramid of precious stones,—

Of porphyry, jasper, agate, and all hues
Of gem and marble, to encrust the bones

Of merchant dukes? The momentary dews,
Which, sparkling in the twilight stars, infuse
Freshness in the green turf that wraps the dead,
Whose names are mausoleums of the Muse,
Are gently pressed, with far more reverential tread
Than ever paced the slab which paves the princely head."

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FLORENTINE GENIUS.

In one of our walks to the Pitti Palace we observed in the street the "Centauro Fontana," a fine group, by Jean de Buologna. It represents Hercules striving with the Centaur Nessus: it expresses vast power.

Genius is certainly the inheritance of the Florentines. We saw this morning half a dozen lads sitting before the beautiful frescoes of the cloister of the Annunziata, sketching them with the utmost spirit and correctness.

I shall renew my description of Florence on my return from Rome. At this season the libraries are all shut; and we are just occupied in preparing for our departure.

CHAPTER V.

Incisa-Monte Vache The Arno-Cortona-Camuscia-The Lake of Thrasymenus -Passegiano - Umbria Perugia-The TiberNunnery of Bethlemme - Foligno-Spoleto-Monte Somma→ Monte Velino-Terni.

We left Florence by the Porta Nicolitano, and soon began to ascend the Apennines, getting a pretty view of the city, with its domes and towers, and the northern peaks of Pistoia and Lucca, now covered with snow. We soon reached San Donato, and the palace of the Marchese Bucchinini, and his domain of vines. Cultivation there appeared none. We gradually increased our elevation upon a sea of Apennines, till we descended to Incisa, where Petrarch passed seven years, and where, doubtless, he often ran joyous amidst its wild scenes. The ground is broken in every direction, and seems the

sport of wintry

torrents. The inhabitants appear very poor, but, in middle age, are a fine race. On leaving Incisa, I was seized with so much fever, that I could scarcely mark the surrounding beauties; but every now and then they forced themselves on my attention. On the left from the Val d'Arno, which we had been skirting, rose a fine ridge of woody hills, backed by rugged mountains; and immediately beneath, a front ground covered with vines, olives, and figs. All this beauty throwing forth no salutary balm, I went into an Italian farm to rest awhile. The padrona had a fine coun

tenance, surmounted by a black beaver-hat, turned up on each side, and a large bunch of black ostrich feathers, the constant costume of the Florentines. She approached my shivering hands with a brass vessel, of elegant Etruscan form, and full of warm embers; another woman brought a finely formed brass lamp, with three flames, that would not have disgraced Pompeii: they tendered their kind offices, and a bed, and positively refused all remuneration. This was only one amongst a hundred instances that we observed of Italian sympathy and kind feeling. On leaving the farm, we approached Monte Vache, looking down into the beautiful Val d'Arno, and over it to the high and distant mountains, where, secluded from sight, is the sanctuary of the Valombrosian monks, celebrated by Milton. Although cold with the autumnal chill, the evening was very lovely;—we all agreed that we had never seen Venus so radiant with beams, or the moon so soft: it was literally such an evening as the poet describes, when he passed by this beauteous region.

"The moon is up, and yet it is not night,

Sunset divides the sky with her. A sea
Of glory streams along th' Apennian height
Of blue Etruria's mountains. Heaven is free
From clouds, but of all colours, seems to be
Melted to one vast Iris of the West,

Where the day joins the past eternity;
While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest
Floats through the azure air :-

A single star is at her side, and reigns

With her o'er half the lovely heavens; but still

Yon sunny sea heaves brightly, and remains
Rolled o'er the top of that high wooded hill,

As day and night contending were, until

Nature reclaimed her order, and a paler shadow
Strews its mantle o'er the mountains-All is grey."

And what are the abatements amidst this scene of