'They Are All
Blood-Stained Here,' He Adds, Indicating, With His Hand, Three-
Fourths Of The Whole Building.
Before the hour is out, an old man,
eighty years of age, quarrelling over a bargain with a young girl
of seventeen, stabs her dead, in the market-place full of bright
flowers; and is brought in prisoner, to swell the number.
Among the four old bridges that span the river, the Ponte Vecchio--
that bridge which is covered with the shops of Jewellers and
Goldsmiths--is a most enchanting feature in the scene. The space
of one house, in the centre, being left open, the view beyond is
shown as in a frame; and that precious glimpse of sky, and water,
and rich buildings, shining so quietly among the huddled roofs and
gables on the bridge, is exquisite. Above it, the Gallery of the
Grand Duke crosses the river. It was built to connect the two
Great Palaces by a secret passage; and it takes its jealous course
among the streets and houses, with true despotism: going where it
lists, and spurning every obstacle away, before it.
The Grand Duke has a worthier secret passage through the streets,
in his black robe and hood, as a member of the Compagnia della
Misericordia, which brotherhood includes all ranks of men. If an
accident take place, their office is, to raise the sufferer, and
bear him tenderly to the Hospital. If a fire break out, it is one
of their functions to repair to the spot, and render their
assistance and protection. It is, also, among their commonest
offices, to attend and console the sick; and they neither receive
money, nor eat, nor drink, in any house they visit for this
purpose. Those who are on duty for the time, are all called
together, on a moment's notice, by the tolling of the great bell of
the Tower; and it is said that the Grand Duke has been seen, at
this sound, to rise from his seat at table, and quietly withdraw to
attend the summons.
In this other large Piazza, where an irregular kind of market is
held, and stores of old iron and other small merchandise are set
out on stalls, or scattered on the pavement, are grouped together,
the Cathedral with its great Dome, the beautiful Italian Gothic
Tower the Campanile, and the Baptistery with its wrought bronze
doors. And here, a small untrodden square in the pavement, is 'the
Stone of DANTE,' where (so runs the story) he was used to bring his
stool, and sit in contemplation. I wonder was he ever, in his
bitter exile, withheld from cursing the very stones in the streets
of Florence the ungrateful, by any kind remembrance of this old
musing-place, and its association with gentle thoughts of little
Beatrice!
The chapel of the Medici, the Good and Bad Angels, of Florence; the
church of Santa Croce where Michael Angelo lies buried, and where
every stone in the cloisters is eloquent on great men's deaths;
innumerable churches, often masses of unfinished heavy brickwork
externally, but solemn and serene within; arrest our lingering
steps, in strolling through the city.
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