dici greatly valued
his society, and he was a leader in the Platonic Academy. But the most
human achievement to his credit is his powerful plea for using the
vernacular in literature, rather than concealing one's best thoughts,
as was fashionable before his protest, in Latin. So much for Alberti's
intellectual side. Physically he was remarkable too, and one of his
accomplishments was to jump over a man standing upright, while he was
also able to throw a coin on to the highest tower, even, I suppose,
the Campanile, and ride any horse, however wild. At the Bargello may
be seen Alberti's portrait, on a medal designed by Pisanello. The old
medals are indeed the best authority for the lineaments of the great
men of the Renaissance, better far than paint. At South Kensington
thousands may be seen, either in the original or in reproduction.

In the right aisle we saw Bernardo Rossellino's tomb of Leonardo Bruni;
in the left is that of Bruni's successor as Secretary of State, Carlo
Marsuppini, by Desiderio da Settignano, which is high among the most
beautiful monuments that exist. "Faine, faine!" says Alfred Branconi,
with his black eyes dimmed; and this though he has seen it every day
for years and explained its beauties in the same words. Everything
about it is beautiful, as the photograph which I give in this volume
will help the reader to believe: proportions, figures, and tracery;
but I still consider Mino's monument to Ugo in the Badia the finest
Florentine example of the gentler memorial style, as contrasted with
the severe Michelangelesque manner. Mino, it must be remembered,
was Desiderio's pupil, as Desiderio was Donatello's. Note how
Desiderio, by an inspiration, opened the leaf-work at each side of
the sarcophagus and instantly the great solid mass of marble became
light, almost buoyant. Never can a few strokes of the chisel have had
so transforming an effect. There is some doubt as to whether the boys
are just where the sculptor set them, and the upper ones with their
garlands are thought to be a later addition; but we are never likely
to know. The returned visitor from Florence will like to be reminded
that, as of so many others of the best Florentine sculptures, there
is a cast of this at South Kensington.

The last tomb of the highest importance in the church is that of
Galileo, the astronomer, who died in 1642; but it is not interesting
as a work of art. In the centre of the church is a floor-tomb by
Ghiberti