Corner of Via de’ Cimatori and Via de’ Cerchi,
The tabernacles of Florence
THE TABERNACLE
Tabernacle
At the corner of Via de’ Cimatori and Via de’ Cerchi, precisely where two of the oldest streets in the historic center intersect, stands a tabernacle that seems to recount centuries of Florentine life. It is an elegant shrine, with a round arch, a small double-pitched roof, and pietra serena stone corbels, sheltering within it a delicate and intense fresco by Alessandro Gherardini, painted at the end of the 17th century.
Fresco
The scene depicts Saint Philip Neri, dressed in liturgical vestments, as he entrusts a group of young monellini to the Madonna and Child—poor and abandoned boys who, in this very neighborhood, found shelter and hope. The children, with their hands clasped and their gazes lifted upward, pray to the Virgin seated on a nimbus of clouds, holding the Christ Child close to her breast. Around them, a guardian angel and two cherubs gently illuminate the scene.
If you pause for a moment to look closely, you can still notice the arm of the wrought-iron lantern, which once cast its light upon the tabernacle and the crossroads, as if watching over this small corner of devotion and memory.
THE STREET
Between Via de’ Cimatori and Via de’ Cerchi
You are in the beating heart of medieval Florence, just a few steps from Palazzo Vecchio and the so-called Canto alla Quarquonia, a place where every stone seems to speak of history. Here once stood a towered palace belonging to the Cerchi Bianchi family, key figures in the ancient conflicts between Guelphs and Ghibellines.
Directly opposite was the Loggia dei Cerchi, later walled up, which bore witness to the grandeur and influence of this powerful family. After their defeat and the confiscation of their properties, the building passed through various hands until, in 1454, it came into the possession of the Giugni, a noble and influential family of Renaissance Florence.
Walking through these narrow, shaded streets, one can still sense the authentic soul of the neighborhood: a weave of history, faith, and everyday life, where traces of the past naturally merge with the pulse of a living city.
THE AUTHOR
Alessandro Gherardini
The fresco you are observing is the work of Alessandro Gherardini (1655–1726), a refined and sensitive Florentine painter, capable of blending the theatricality of the Baroque with the grace and spirituality of the local tradition. In his figures one perceives a gentle emotional tension, shaped by light, measured gestures, and expressive gazes that seem to speak.
In the Cimatori–Cerchi tabernacle, Gherardini transforms charity into painting: Saint Philip Neri becomes the tender intercessor for the children, the Madonna embodies maternal protection, and the monellini represent innocence seeking salvation. The harmony of colors and the sweetness of the expressions create an intimate, almost familiar scene, inviting the viewer to pause for a moment and reflect on the value of mercy.
DID YOU KNOW?
A Small Shrine with a Great Story: the “Monellini” Tabernacle
This tabernacle recalls the history of the "Pia Casa di Rifugio dei poveri fanciulli", known to the Florentines as the Quarquonia. Here, in the 17th century, Don Filippo Franci founded a place of shelter for the monellini—orphaned or abandoned children—where they could receive care, education, and learn a trade. Don Franci himself treated boys suffering from skin diseases with an ointment he had devised, and he set aside spaces of correction for the most unruly, in order to spare them imprisonment and preserve their honor.
The emblem of the institution was a she-wolf licking her cubs, accompanied by the motto “Lambendo figurat,” meaning “by licking, she nurtures them”: a tender yet powerful image of Christian charity.
In 1786 the Pia Casa was suppressed, but the building continued to serve as a place of community and gathering. It became the Teatro della Quarquonia, where the mask of Stenterello was born, a symbol of Florentine wit and spirit. In the centuries that followed, it changed its name several times—the Teatro del Giglio, Teatro Leopoldo, and Teatro Nazionale—until it became the Cinema Teatro Nazionale in the twentieth century. Thus, from a place of care to a space of performance, this corner of Florence has continued, in different forms, to tell the story of the city’s vitality and humanity.