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Updated: June 15, 2025
We spent no very long time at the Uffizi, and afterwards crossed the Ponte alle Grazie, and went to the convent of San Miniato, which stands on a hill outside of the Porta San Gallo. A paved pathway, along which stand crosses marking stations at which pilgrims are to kneel and pray, goes steeply to the hill-top, where, in the first place, is a smaller church and convent than those of San Miniato.
Wherefore, his method of work pleasing the Duke, his Excellency caused him to construct where, as has been related, there had been built on the hill of S. Miniato, without Florence, the wall that curves from the Porta S. Niccolò to the Porta S. Miniato the fortification that encloses a gate by means of two bastions, and guards the Church and Monastery of S. Miniato; making on the summit of that hill a fortress that dominates the whole city and looks on the outer side towards the east and the south, a work that was vastly extolled.
"Is this discussion never to end?" asked the Marchesa, wearily lifting her hand as though in protest, and letting it fall again beside the other. "It has only just begun, mamma," answered Beatrice cheerfully. "When San Miniato jumps into the sea and drowns himself in despair, you will know that the discussion is over." "Beatrice! My child! What language!" "Italian, mamma carissima.
San Miniato looked at her again, then turned away his eyes and sighed audibly. "Well?" asked Beatrice. "Will you answer. I do not understand that language. Whose love would make any place Timbuctoo, for instance a heaven for you?" "Discretion is the only virtue a man ought to exhibit whenever he has a chance," said San Miniato. "Perhaps. But even that should be shown without ostentation."
The Marchesa was disgusted. "They are green when they run about, mamma," observed Beatrice. "I believe it is the cooking that makes them red. It will be delightful," she added, turning to San Miniato. "Does one walk?" "Walk!" exclaimed the Marchesa, a new horror rising before her mental vision. "We go in boats," said San Miniato. "In the sail boat first and then in a little one to find the crabs.
Pray give me your advice, Marchesa carissima." "Of course you are right you always are. You were right about the moon yesterday though I did not notice that it was shining here when we came home," she added thoughtfully, not by any means satisfied with the insufficient demonstration he had given her at first. "No doubt," replied San Miniato indifferently.
But he saw neither the morning nor the river nor the woman walking on the gravel river-bed with her goose nor the green hill up to San Miniato. He watched the tuft of palm-trees, and the terrace beside it. He could just distinguish the terrace clearly, among the green of foliage. So he stood at his window for a full hour, and did not move.
But they are humble offshoots, naturally, of two great and complex masterpieces, and very modest sisters of a masterpiece only a degree less marvellous: Pisa Cathedral, the Baptistery of Florence and San Miniato.
Surely on the southern side of the river, about the Viale dei Colli, the hills approach much nearer to the plain. From San Miniato and the Bello Sguardo one looks down far more directly upon the domes and palaces and campaniles of Florence spread right at one's feet.
It is all so mysterious and complicated! Give me one of your cigarettes, I am quite exhausted with talking." "I think you do yourself injustice, dearest Marchesa," said San Miniato, offering her his open case. "You have, I think, a remarkably good understanding for business. I really envy you."
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