The Apollino, another beautiful figure, shows the numerous seams in it, where it was joined together, after having been broken by a large picture which fell upon it a few years since. And the Dancing Fawn is one of those indescribably natural-looking and faultless pieces of antique sculpture that makes one wonder if we really do have any great sculptors in these modern days; for the position, and every feature, limb, and muscle are so faithfully rendered as to make the marble seem so endowed with life that it would scarce astonish the spectator if it continued its agile motions, and assumed a dozen other attitudes upon the pedestal.
Then comes the group of the Wrestlers, admirably executed, and technically and anatomically correct in its sculptured delineation of straining sinews and swelling muscles. The spectator is more than astonished at the wonderful art displayed in the well-known figure of the Slave overhearing Conspirators while sharpening a knife. It may strike many, as it did ourselves, as the best subject possible for the sculptor's chisel—this listening figure pausing at his work, as if just stricken into stone, his attention suddenly arrested while at his occupation, the intent, eager, listening look, the natural attitude of the figure, the earnestness in the face, and the parted lips—all make you think that there is only one thing more the artist could have done with his marvellous touch, and that was, to have imparted to the figure life and speech, for it seems as near a living thing as statue can be.
We linger long in the Tribune, loath to leave these superb creations, that reveal new beauties the longer we gaze upon them. On the walls of this room hang works from the pencils of Titian, Michael Angelo, Andrea del Sarto, Correggio, Guido, and Vandyke. You are surrounded by priceless gems of art, the choicest works of the whole Uffizi collection. There was Titian's Venus, a marvellously beautiful figure, upon the canvas; Del Sarto's Madonna and Child, a grand and beautiful painting of most exquisite coloring; Albert Dürer's Adoration of the Magi, the heads of the figures magnificent studies, and grand in their execution; Paul Veronese's Holy Family; Raphael's St. John preaching in the Desert; and Guido's Virgin, besides many others.
And then we wandered, hour after hour, all through this wonderful gallery, said to be the richest and most varied in the world, though less extensive than the Louvre or Vatican—twenty-five rooms, besides corridors, vestibules, &c., crammed with works of art. Murray says that the original collections of the Medici family were dispersed at various periods. The collections of Lorenzo the Magnificent were sold in 1494, and their palace plundered in 1637; but Casimo I. recovered much of what had belonged to his ancestors, and his successors rendered this collection of art what it now is—the most interesting in Europe.
Busts of this Medici family are placed in the vestibule approaching the gallery. Here also are bronze statues of Mars and Silenus, and an infant Bacchus; and as you get into the vestibule great bronze wolf-dogs guard the door, and huge statues of the Roman emperors look down upon you. It would be useless to attempt a description of the collection, which is divided into selections of different schools of art in different rooms.
The corridors are occupied both as sculpture and picture galleries. The paintings in them are historical series of the Tuscan school, and the statuary a splendid series of busts of the Roman emperors, statue of a Gladiator, Apollo, Urania, Cupid, Bacchante, &c.; Michael Angelo's bass-reliefs, and his statues of the Drunken Bacchus and Faun; also his Wounded Adonis and Donatellos, David as the Conqueror of Goliah. Then we have a room filled with curious Roman sarcophagi, with curious sculptured bass-reliefs, representing their chariot races, gods, and sea-nymphs.
There is a room full of pictures of the French school of art, two of the German and Dutch schools, another of the Dutch and Flemish schools, with pictures of Van Ostade and Gerard Dow, and two rooms with magnificent pictures of the Venetian school, such as Paul Veronese's picture of Esther before Ahasuerus,—only think what a grand picture this makes, with its crowd of figures, full of life and spirit,—Giorgione's Judgment of Solomon, and Tintoretto's Christ entering Jerusalem. Then come two other intensely interesting rooms—autograph portraits of painters, many of them painted by themselves. There are Guido and Vandyke, Rembrandt, Titian, Tintoretto, Da Vinci, and Michael Angelo, and the portrait of Raphael, which has been so frequently copied and engraved in pictures, that we recognize it instantly, as the eye wanders over the crowded walls.
There is so much in this Uffizi gallery to satisfy every variety of artistic taste! Just think, for instance, of the pleasure of looking through a whole room full of the original drawings of the old masters, with their autographs attached! Here were parts of Michael Angelo's architectural plans, his rough sketches in red chalk or charcoal; Titian's drawings—rude outlines, from his portfolio, that on the canvas grew to voluptuous beauty; also, those of Rubens, Albert Dürer, Tintoretto, Del Sarto, and a host of others; and these that we see hung upon the walls are only a mere selection of specimens from the wealth of this great collection of original sketches, which contains nearly twenty-eight thousand in all.
But paintings and sculpture are not the only wonders of the Uffizi gallery. Coming out of the gallery of original drawings, we find a room of medals and coins, containing a set of nearly nine thousand imperial medals, a set of coins of the mediæval and modern Italian states, and a set of gold florins from as far back as the year 1252. We could not but notice that more than one custodian or official regarded us with a curious eye as we wandered from room to room, and halted, catalogue in hand, pencilling down, all over its pages, the notes from which these pages are written, as if wondering whether we were noting down anything that was illegal or not, so suspicious do they appear, in these foreign countries, of anybody who appears to be taking notes or drawings. We loitered all among this surfeit of artistic beauty, through the whole of that portion of the day it was open, only to find, at last, that we had not seen half of it. So we returned to the charge again, note-book in hand, for another day's enjoyment.
On our second visit we stumbled, first on the Etruscan collection—two rooms full of Etruscan vases and sepulchral urns, of ancient make, and very beautifully decorated with antique paintings, such as battles of the centaurs, Grecian warriors and combats, all very interesting, as giving, in many instances, the costumes and manners of the ancient Greeks, painted at the time of their existence. There was also a very extensive collection of ancient black vases, found in Etruria, and in the Necropolis of Sarteano, the graceful and elegant shapes of which form the copies of many of our richest and most beautiful vases of modern manufacture. The celebrated Medicean vase, or Hadrian vase, which was found in Hadrian's villa, near Tivoli, of course claimed our attention, and also a curious collection of urns, in which the ancients used to enclose the ashes of their dead.