The stern old Davanzati palace is more like a huge tower intended for defence than a house to live in. The fine doorway, with Donatello’s magnificent coat-of-arms high above it, leads into a curiously-shaped courtyard, from which a covered staircase zigzags from one balcony to another up to the loggia at the summit. The palazzo is a splendid example of the architecture of the XIVth century, but who designed it is not known. Sadly defaced by shops which crowd the ground floor it has an air of squalor, which, however, does not detract from its massive grandeur. The Davanzati built their palace on the site of houses and towers which belonged to the ancient and powerful family of the Bostichi, who had already fallen from their high estate before Dante wrote. Later, Bernardo Davanzati, the translator of Tacitus, added their name to his own, and attempted to claim an illusory descent from them. He might have been satisfied with going back to his gallant ancestor Davanzato, who fought in the ranks of the Guelphs at Monteperti in 1260. His son Lottieri was five times a Prior, thrice one of the Buonomini, and thrice Gonfalonier of his quarter; while forty-four of the family sat at various times as Priors in the Palazzo de’ Signori. Niccolò Davanzati founded the beautiful convent of Doccia on the slopes of Fiesole in 1413,31 and he probably also built this fine palace.

The Davanzati must have been a clear-headed, well-spoken race, as their name often appears among the ambassadors sent by Florence to other states. In 1434 Giuliano, the son of Niccolò, “a strong man with a fluent tongue,” Ammirato calls him, came to great honour. He was Gonfalonier of Justice when Eugenius III. consecrated the cathedral of Sta. Maria del Fiore, and during the service the Pope dubbed him a Knight of the Golden Spur with his own hands. In memory of this a shield with the arms of the Pope was placed, and still exists, on the central pillar in the courtyard, with Ex privilegio Eugenii III. D. Julianus Davanzati eques inscribed below the coat-of-arms. Three of the family—Giovanni, who fought at Poppi against the Prince of Orange in 1529, his brother Piero, who was one of the Two Hundred in 1532, and Antonfrancesco, son of Giuliano, who was charged to provide funds for provisioning the besieged city—were zealous patriots. The latter was banished and died no one knows where, leaving his wife, Lucrezia Ginori, with a little son, to whom, perceiving his uncommon intelligence, “as fertile land left uncultivated produces more weeds than sterile soil,” she gave an excellent education. Bernardo was put into the bank when a lad, but devoted all the time he could spare from business to classical and economic studies, and at eighteen was already a member of the Academy of Florence.

Grazzini, better known as Lasca, one of the founders of the Academy, quarrelled with his fellow-academicians and wrote a sarcastic poem, in which young Bernardo Davanzati is the only member he does not abuse.

Bernardo Davanzati’s translation of Tacitus is remarkable for conciseness and force of language, though occasionally lacking in dignity. He also wrote one of the first treatises on coinage, Della Moneta, another on Tuscan agriculture, and a history of the separation of England from the Church of Rome, Storia della Scisma. “He was,” writes Francesco Rondinelli, “of small stature and dark complexion. His eyes were bright, his hair black, and he had but little beard. The forehead was furrowed and lined, as were his cheeks, and his aspect was somewhat stern. In dress he favoured the parsimony and decorum of ancient times; sober in eating and drinking, curt and straightforward in speech, for words, like coins, are more esteemed when they contain large value in a small compass. By some he was called Peppercorn, it may be from his brown and wrinkled face, but more likely from the knowledge, sharp wit and learning contained in so small a body. He was impatient of praise, never esteeming his work perfect. The errors of others he blamed by silence rather than by correction, and often lamented that fortune did not favour those honest, good and modest men, who doing much and asking little, are not appreciated; but rather certain presumptuous people, who have an excellent opinion of and praise themselves, though they are of small account. Besides Latin, he knew Greek, and was a good arithmetician; his judgment was so excellent in all things that he enjoyed the singular happiness of hearing his works praised during his lifetime. It was said by a man of great learning that he collected the jewels of Florentine speech from the pebbles of the Arno, to set in the gold of Tacitus.”

Bernardo’s grandson and namesake came to an untimely death by throwing himself off the top of the tower of the old palace into the courtyard below. The family, by a curious fatality, came to an end by the death of Carlo Davanzati in 1838, in the same way and at the same spot. The palace now belongs to Signor Volpi.