Art Hotels

Florence was Italy's capital for six short years, and Villa Cora went up during them. It stands on the slope south of the river, a few minutes' climb above the Boboli Gardens, behind a walled park with a pool and mature trees.

Indoors, the decoration is the nineteenth-century scheme itself rather than a modern imitation of it. Ceilings are painted. Mouldings are gilded. Salons that once held receptions are lined with mirrors, and the bedrooms borrow their materials from the same era, silk on the walls and marble in the bathrooms.

Evenings stay hushed up here. The Ponte Vecchio is a downhill stroll; the climb home is what the silence costs.

Around the year 300, Diocletian had a retirement palace built on the Dalmatian shore. Split later grew up inside its walls, and so did this hotel.

Its rooms are fitted into the old structure beside the Vestibule, the round, open-roofed hall that once led to the emperor's private quarters. Roman stone is left bare. The furniture around it is glass and clean lines, so old and new sit side by side without pretending otherwise.

Seventeen centuries of piecemeal building mean no two rooms are cut the same. Outside the door, the Peristyle, the cathedral and the seafront are a short walk apart.