ABSTRACT
Now something new arises, something which gives him new life, stimulates his illusions and his intelligence, and draws him out of that stagnant country atmosphere. It is something quite different from thrushes. He has taken on a new lease of life, goes into the city oftener and stays there more willingly. The Orti are closed for ever, but another garden is open to him: that of Jacopo Fornaciaio outside the Porta a San Frediano. 1 It is not frequented by literary men or philosophers, nor are learned discussions heard there; instead they banquet, and the food is real, not philosophical. Fornaciaio is a rich plebeian, but his house is not despised by the nobility, for particularly in Florence prejudices are easily swallowed with good food. This in itself, in spite of the jokes at Carpi, would be an attraction for the gourmand Machiavelli. 2 Then too, there is Barbera.
