VILLA JI 
GALLUZZO, 
LONG drive from Florence, up into the 
mountains, past the huge, straggling pile 
of the Certosa, poised upon its eminence, 
up, until the country changes and_ the 
greater number of villas lie below, the pine woods 
begin, and all around, as far as eye can reach, the 
mountains lie in undulating waves, no accentuated 
ups and downs, but gently tossing fold over fold, 
till it is almost possible to imagine that it really 
is a distant sea upon which we look. At last, 
boldly planted on a sharp ridge, approached through 
a black cypress avenue, we reach the most splendid 
and stately of all the Florentine villas. The impres- 
sion made at once is different from that of any 
other. The whole effect is one of austere majesty. 
The quality Michael Angelo could impart to all 
his work is present here, the breadth, the simplicity, 
the purity. As we stand in front of that lofty, 
two-storied arcade, which is built round three sides 
of a raised stone-flagged terrace and enclosed by a 
majestic balustrade and double stairway, guarded 
by two black stone lions, bearing shields, we 
breathe freely. The lines of the building give a sense 
of nobility and elevation; the master mind that 
designed it knew nothing of the frivolous or the 
paltry. Absolute proof that he was the architect 
may be lacking, but the spirit of Michael Angelo 
speaks to us louder than any contract. Tradition, 
indeed, gives it to him. He is known to have been 
an intimate friend of that Agostino Dini for whom 
the villa was built in the sixteenth century, on the 
site where once stood a castle of the Buondelmonte. 
The Dini papers have unluckily been destroyed, but 
Baldinucci tells us that Santi di Tito, a pupil of 
the schools of Bronzino and Vasari, “ worked 
for Agostino Dini at Giogoli for the 
same Agostino he also painted one of his finest 
pictures.” It is, of course, quite possible that 
he carried out the work from the design of the 
greater master. The picture, “ A Marriage in 
Cana,” is still in the chapel—it is, in fact, 
painted upon the panelled wall, and it is evident 
that the master turned his head and drew the long 
arcade, which met his eyes in the courtyard beyond 
the chapel window. The court has a fine old well- 
head of stone and ironwork, and opposite it is an 
ancient stone cistern. One of the wings of the 
house has never been finished, but the effect is to 
give a variety which is rather good than otherwise. 
It is fortunate that the villa is quite unspoilt. 
The high, gently-vaulted saloons still retain their 
COLLAZZI, 
102 
FLORENCE. 
heavy walnut doors, with brass mountings, and 
their Renaissance chimney-pieces, and though in 
the eighteenth century some attempt was made 
to redecorate, it is very slight, and consists in 
a few very charming frescoes by Menucci and 
Boti, and sundry painted doors. The central 
saloon opens out at the back upon a circular 
perron of worn stone, a double fight of steps 
curving down into the garden. On this side, the 
plainness of the walls is relieved by pediments 
and consoles, and by a singularly beautiful loggia 
with slender double columns. The stone setting 
of the doorway, surmounted by a carved escutcheon, 
has the same quality of stately simplicity. The 
terrace surrounding the house is enclosed in a 
low parapet, built upon high  bastioned walls, 
over which you lean and look into the valley 
below. From the front of the villa the 
landscape is sunny and the country thickly popu- 
lated with gleaming villas, while down in the 
valley, beyond the shoulder of a far-off wooded 
curve, the brown dome and the slender shaft of 
Giotto’s tower are just visible. At the back the 
outlook is much wilder. The cypresses climb the 
hill on the other side of the deep fall in the ground. 
It is such a hillside as Benozzo Gozzoli loved to 
paint, and we could fancy we saw his brilliant 
youths in broidered surcoats, winding in gay pro- 
cession along the country-side. Beyond, the hills 
are dark with pine woods, which stretch away fold 
on fold as far as Montelupo. To the right lie the 
mountains behind Pistoia, and the domes and towers 
of both that city and Prato in the plain beneath 
are plainly visible upon a clear day. The Dini 
named their splendid villa I Collazzi, the hillocks or 
mounts, because of these undulating hills which flow 
all round it. Immediately under the wall, at the 
back of the house, is the gvardino segreto, and here the 
old Italian fashion has been adhered to; there are 
few flowers, and the chief adornment consists of fine 
lemon trees in huge terra-cotta vases, symmetrically 
arranged. The ground falls away below so abruptly 
as to afford little scope for flower-gardening. 
It is a villa with little history. The Dini 
family lived in it till about sixty years ago, when 
it passed into the hands of the Bombicci-Pomi, 
who live here nearly all the year round. Perhaps 
it was too far off the beaten track to be fashionable 
and far enough to escape perils. It seems always 
to have been, what it is to-day, a beautiful and 
well-loved home. 
