I believe there is a cast of these gates exhibited at the South Kensington Museum.
The Uffizi Gallery or museum or both, where I should think may be found the most wonderful collection of art to be found in the world. Even in Rome we had seen nothing to equal it. It contains over 13,000 paintings. Cameos and original designs without number. There are long corridors where statues of celebrated Tuscans fill the niches. There is sculptured marble, or painted canvas, of all imaginable beings in heaven or on earth. Emperors and kings, saintly Madonnas, angels, gods and goddesses, muses and nymphs; all may be found in this marvellous collection. And on the ceiling are frescoes setting forth the annals of Florence. In one of the halls stands a painting of Niobe with her sons and daughters clinging around her, victims of the cruel vengeance of Diana and Apollo. In another room are some angels surrounding a Madonna, making a lovely picture. There is a gallery in which are paintings of the painters of all nations, painted by themselves. Vandyck, with his clear blue eye, long hair and fair countenance; Raphael, looking sad and gentle and very sallow; Michael Angelo, simple yet sublime, he is in his dressing gown. We were simply surrounded and bewildered by the fascinating sights on every hand. There are cabinets also, containing rare gems, cameos and bronzes of all sizes and shapes. The Tribune also demands notice, as it contains vast masses of valuable treasures. One room is paved with the most costly marble. There are five masterpieces of antiquity. In the centre stands the Venus de Medicis, serene, pure, delicate, and perfectly lovely; another, the Dancing Fawn; another, “Apollino,” “The Wrestlers,” and the “Grinder.” There is also here, one of the finest and best of Raphael’s paintings, “The Glorious Madonna.” Two others by Titian. We soon became exhausted and weary, so we left the entrancing scenes for another day. To our hotel was but the work of ten minutes; safely housed. Table-de-hote dinner, to write up our diaries, to commend our lives and our loved ones to the care of our Heavenly Father, we slept. During the night there was a severe thunder storm, the lightning played round our hotel, lighting up the great square in front, but so far as we know, no damage was done. We rose in health, refreshed and ready for a good breakfast; this, the Italians know how to provide. Their coffee is the best I have ever tasted. Fish, eggs, cold meats and fruits in abundance. We made a fine breakfast, and after writing some letters and post cards we ventured out, this time for a drive to the suburbs. I soon found carriage and driver and made terms.