Men and manners of old Florence

Preface

' I 'HESE five essays, which now appear for the first -*• time collected in book form, do not pretend to be a complete study of the private life of the Florentines in different centuries, but only sketches for a larger picture which I hope some time to be able to execute.

But, although detached, these sketches give realistic glimpses of the social life in Florence from the thirteenth to the beginning of last century ; of the times, in short, when she had an individual life and character of her own, and her native manners and customs had not yet been submerged and lost in the great stream of modern influence and fashion.

I should like to state, however, that these essays are founded upon entirely new material and documents which have never hitherto been used, and are in no way merely compiled from the usual hackneyed sources used and abused by most modern writers on Florentine subjects. I may say with Alfred De Musset : " Mon verre n est 'pas grand^ mais je bois dans mon verrey

GUIDO BIAGI.

Florence, the Laurentian Library, October, 1908.

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Contents

PAGE

Florence within her Ancient Boundary . . 13

The Mind and Manners of a Florentine

II

THE FRESCO OF THE MONASTERY OF LECCETO, SHOWING GAMBLERS AND KEEPERS OF GAMING TABLES .....

THE LOGGIA OF THE BIGALLO . {Alinari.) ,

PORTRAIT OF FRANCESCO DATINI

THE TOMB OF FRANCESCO DATINI IN THE CHURCH OF SAN FRANCESCO, PRATO

FLORENTINE COSTUMES AT THE TIME OF THE DUKE OF CALABRIA, FROM THE FRESCO BY SIMONE MARTINI, CHAPEL OF THE SPAGNOLI, SANTA MARIA NOVELLA ......

THE WEDDING OF BACCIO ADIMARI AND LISA RICASOLI . .

THE HOLY SEPULCHRE IN THE RUCELLAI CHAPEL, SAN PANCRAZIO

THE STROZZI PALACE. BY BENEDETTO DA MAJANO

SAVONAROLA IN HIS CELL ....

THE SACRISTY OF SAN LORENZO (Alinari.)

TULLIA OF ARRAGON ....

PIETRO ARETINO. BY TITIAN . . .

Facing page

107 126 129

140 142

ILLUSTRATIONS

FILIPPO STROZZI

(^linari.)

VITTORIA COLONNA. BY MUZIANO (Alinari.)

A COURTESAN. BY PARIS BORDONE {^linari.)

ELEONORA DI TOLEDO. BY BRONZING [Alinart.)

THE GRAND DUKE FERDINAND III. .

THE TOWER OF THE ADIMARI AT THE ENTRANCE OF VIA CALZAJOLI

VIA CALZAJOLI, BEFORE THE ENLARGEMENT (From a contemporary dra-wing.)

THE PONTE ALLE GRAZIE BEFORE ITS RE- STORATION

THE CORSA DEI BARBERI (a RACE BY BARE- BACKED horses). PICTURE BY GIOVANNI

SIGNORINI

[Brogi. )

A MASQUERADE IN PIAZZA SANTA CROCE . (Alinari.)

A SCENE OF THE EPIPHANY

THE CHARIOT RACE IN THE PIAZZA SANTA MARIA NOVELLA. PICTURE BY GIOVANNI SIGNORINI

THE FIREWORKS ON THE PONTE ALLA CAR- RAJA. BY SIGNORINI .... (Alinari.)

THE GRAND DUKE LEOPOLD II. .

Facing page

J>

JJ

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„ 270 „ 272

„ 276

„ 278 « 308

FLORENCE WITHIN HER ANCIENT BOUNDARY

FLORENCE WITHIN HER ANCIENT BOUNDARY

I

IT is not easy for us of the present day to form a clear idea of old Fiorenza as she was when still surrounded by her ancient boundary, to reconstruct the beloved and longed-for image graven upon the heart of him who, during long and weary wanderings and all the sorrowful years of exile, still dwelt in memory in his own lost and distant city.

To go back through the course of centuries is almost like mounting the stream of some mighty river. The tumultuous scenes of modern life are gradually left behind, and in their place we see before us the peaceful vision of a calm and smiling landscape as yet unspoiled by the terrors of civilisation. Higher still, where the stream flows clear and pure, its waters mirror the

IS solitary shores overgrown with shrubs and reeds, and at last the mighty river becomes a mere brook rippling amongst rocks and stones, between steep banks covered on either side with thick and tangled woods. Who would recognise in that tiny thread of silver water issuing from its far-off source the same muddy, troubled stream which, farther down its course, flows through crowded cities, turning machinery and bearing ships, until, made foul by their contact with human beings, its polluted waters mingle with the sea !

The Florentine landscape of the thirteenth century had none of those lines and colours which now lend such grace to its hills, such brilliant freshness to its plains. If we climb the hill of Fiesole to-day, we look down upon a city which seems built of ivory and stone ; the silver streak of the Arno winds westward through the shadowy valley like a dream, and spring-time gives a fresh setting of flowers and leaves to the sun-kissed monuments of her ancient glory. Then, however, the "fair and gay Florentine city, the fount of valour and of joy, the flower of cities, Fiorenza," as she was called by a thirteenth-century poet, Chiaro Davanzati, rose proud and dark and threatening, her hundred and fifty great towers and her battlemented walls surrounded by a moat, against a sombre background of hills not yet brightened by houses and olive gardens, but covered with cypresses, tall and straight as lances, with oak and ash and fir-trees swaying and rustling in the keen tramontana wind. To the north were Monte Morello, I'Uccellatoio and the other spurs of the Apennine range, turning to the fury of the wind their sides clothed with those thick woods of pine and fir which, later on, were cut down to provide beams and roofs for the new churches about to be built in the city. The Fiorenza of that time, enclosed within her stone walls, protected by bastions and forts with their countless little towers and spires, seemed like a beautiful woman warrior buckled in ;her iron armour bristling with sharp points. And only in later times, when the New Age had calmed her warlike spirit and softened the savage beauty of both soul and body, did she show her smiling face to the sun and set free her young limbs from their iron bonds.

The few pictorial representations of that period which are still in existence, such as the frescoes of the Bigallo and the miniatures in the Biadajolo, or, the various reconstructions attempted by scholars like Vincenzo Borghini, that sixteenth-century forerunner of modern historical critics, show us the " ancient boundary," or first circle of walls, enclosing a perfect forest of towers, interspersed with the bright red roofs of lofty houses, nearly all of which were furnished with projecting parapets. It is difficult to recognise the Florence we know now in these old picture's, because we find there none of the monuments which make it familiar to our eyes. We miss Santa Maria del Ficre, with its great cupola and its majestic nave, the Campanile rising into the air like some tall palm-tree, and the Palace of the Priori, surmounted by its proud and slender tower. The Baptistery alone existed then, though it was not yet clothed with marble, and it was the only building amongst all those intended both for defence and defiance, all those houses which were more like strongholds than private dwellings, to be saved and destined for a nobler fate.

The descriptions left by old chroniclers and confirmed by recent excavations enable us to determine the site of the ancient walls with absolute certainty. The moat and wall, which together formed the city boundary, ran on the eastern side from the Castello d'Altafronte, where is now the Piazza dei Giudici, to San Firenze and the Badia and up the Via del Proconsolo, forming an angle on the northern side of the Piazza del Duomo, opposite to the modern Cathedral Museum. Thence it went in a straight line past the Baptistery and the Archbishop's house, along the present Via dei Cerretani. Near the corner of the Via Rondinelli the moat joined the Mugnone river, which then took its place, and flowing past San Michele Berteldi, now San Gaetano, and the houses of the Tornaquinci, afterwards called Tornabuoni, it emptied itself into the Arno at the point where the Santa Trinita bridge was subsequently erected. On the south side the walls followed the site of the Via delle Terme as far as Por Santa Maria, and from the corner of the present Via Lambertesca they continued behind the church of San en

Piero Scheraggio, which stood where is now the entrance to the Uffizi Gallery. That part of the moat was named Scheraggio and it collected all the rain-water of the city and carried it to the Arno.

Giovanni Villani ' wrote that Florence possessed good walls with towers at frequent intervals, and four principal gates. These were the Porta San Piero, at the point where the Corso joins the Via del Proconsolo ; the Porta del Duomo (or San Giovanni), in earlier times called the Bishop's Gate, opposite the end of the Borgo San Lorenzo ; the Porta San Brancazio, at the junction of streets near the Strozzi Palace ; and finally the Porta Santa Maria, which stood opposite the earliest bridge, built " upon stone piles sunk in the Arno," and eventually called the Old Bridge, or Ponte Vecchio, after the construction of the new bridge, or Ponte alia Carraia. Each gate had a secondary or outer gate, enclosed within battlemented walls, the space in between being a courtyard, which spanned the moat supported on two arches. The lateral towers were of two storeys, surmounted by machicolated platforms and having loopholes through which stones could be hurled at the enemy, or boiling liquid and burning rubbish dropped upon his head.

The surrounding country was then of singular aspect. Beyond the Arno, San Miniato turned its glistening marble fagade towards the sunset, but there were no smiling villas and gardens to keep it company as there are to-day. Here and there were poor huts and cabins, inhabited by peasants and labourers, with occasionally walled enclosures or fortified farmhouses, wherein men, cattle and provisions were protected against hostile raids. In those days everything was devised for the safety of persons and property, for robbery and murder were looked upon as ever-present and inevitable dangers.

Towards the middle of the thirteenth century, however, when populous suburbs had sprung up outside each gate, beyond the first circle of walls, and churches and public buildings stood where were formerly only bare fields, the second circle of walls was erected to enclose and protect these new quarters, as happens in every case of town extension. The principal enlargement of the city took place on the south side of the Arno, with the enclosure of the three populous suburbs whose chief streets meet at the end of the present Ponte Vecchio. These were the Borgo Pidiglioso, which extended as far as Santa Lucia de Magnoli and was inhabited by poor and dirty people ; the Borgo Santa Felicita, otherwise called the Borgo di Piazza, and the Borgo di San Jacopo, which had a gate near the houses where afterwards dwelt the Frescobaldi family. Thus the new city of Florence on the right side of the Arno possessed five gates, one for each of the five districts, beside several small postern gates, of which I will only mention the names. On the east was the Porta di San Pier Maggiore. On the north side was the Porta degli Albertinelli, at the present entrance to the Borgo Pinti ; the Porta di Balk, where is now San Michelino, and the Porta di San Lorenzo, at the corner of the present Via dei Ginori. On the western side were the small gates called Campo Corbolino, del Baschiera and del Trebbio, and the Porta di San Paolo at the entrance to Via Palazzuolo. The walls, not very high on the river side, now enclosed within the boundary the suburbs of San Brancazio, Parione, Santo Apostolo, and Santa Maria as far as the bridge, and continued along the river-bank as far as the Castello d'Altafronte. At this point they left the side of the Arno and turned northward at the Rubaconte Bridge, now called Ponte alia Grazie, towards the corner of the Colonnine, where stood the Porta dei Buoi, or Cattle Gate, so called because the cattle market was held just outside it. This name was subsequently changed to that of the Porta da Messer Ruggero da Quona, however, when the da Quona faniily took up their residence in the dwelling which was situated over the gateway. The walls then continued behind San Jacopo tra' Fossi to the open square in front of the Franciscan church of Santa Croce, where a small gate gave access to the Arno island, and thence ran in a straight line, without either gate or postern, to San Pier Maggiore.

II

SUCH, then, was the Fiorenza of the times of Cacciaguida and Dante, the city whose manners and customs I shall endeavour to describe in as few words as possible, giving you brief glimpses into that life so remote from our present thoughts, although sung and glorified in many an immortal verse.

I will spare you further topographical details, which are only interesting to the Florentines themselves, and more especially to those who witnessed the demolition of the third circle of walls, when the Italian capital was moved from Turin to Florence on its way to its legendary and historical site in Rome, and the voices of the National Parliament echoed in that Hall of the Cinquecento which for more than three centuries had not heard united the words King, People and Liberty.

Let us imagine ourselves entering Florence on some fair spring morning during the second half of the thirteenth century. We arrive on foot or on horseback, and having passed through the outlying suburbs, composed of modest houses and cabins which line the roads outside each gate, we come to the

Porta del Vescovo, where the watchful guards, jingling their rusty keys, cry loudly to the wayfarer, *' Who art thou ? Hast thou nought in thy purse ? " Having given that reply which in all ages succeeds in opening gates and taming Cerberus, we cross the moat, pass through the second'gateway, and are greeted by the sound of bells as we enter the city just waking to its daily work. From each church and chapel the bells are pealing gaily, and not only from the towers and belfries, but from every arch and niche and window where they can be hung. There are more than eighty of them, and at their persistent call the narrow, tortuous streets below begin to show signs of animation. At the massive doorways of the high houses appear the pale and wary faces of the merchants, who dare not issue forth until they hear that the neighbours and tradesmen are also throwing open their houses and shops ; then upon the threshold they say a short prayer, make the sign of the cross, and betake themselves to church.

The streets gradually fill with people. Here are clergy in great numbers, monks and nuns, pilgrims and lay sisters ; here are peasants coming in from the country with their donkey-carts laden with vegetables ; knights in armour striding along proudly and impatiently, as though they were lords of all ; rough artisans and workmen singing as they urge on their asses by force of kicks and cries ; jesters and wandering players go about seeking some good-natured temporary host ; fruit-sellers and marketwomen, carrying their swaddled babies slung at their backs, exercise their tongues over other people's affairs as they trundle along to their stalls, whilst armed men belonging to some of the great houses make their way through the increasing crowd with grim and threatening faces, their hands ready to draw sword or dagger from its sheath. Opposite to the Bishop's Palace — an elaborate building conspicuous for its loggia, or covered terrace, then perhaps the only one in the city — was the atrium 2in6i entrance to the Baptistery of San Giovanni ; the church itself was surrounded by arches, partly of marble and partly of stone, beneath which idlers and ragged philosophers of all sorts were accustomed to congregate. The porphyry columns and the pillar commemorating the dead tree which blossomed anew at the funeral of San Zanobius were in the same places where they are seen to-day, but between the Baptistery and the church of Santa Reparata, to the left of which was a tower, stood the Hospital of St. John the Evangelist, a refuge for the poor and for pilgrims.

The people crowded into the narrow spaces between these various buildings and overflowed into the churchyard of Santa Reparata, ground afterwards covered by the great transepts of Santa Maria del Fiore. Their business and their gossip was mostly carried on in the Mercato Vecchio, the old marketplace which possessed *' four churches at its four corners," amongst the labyrinth of lanes and alleys round Or San Michele, in the Piazza del Comune, which had then not yet been enlarged by extension over the ruins of the Uberti dwellings, or in the open place in front of the Ponte Vecchio, which was used as a market for fruit and vegetables. Here the good people who sat comfortably upon the benches and stone seats listened eagerly to the tales and jokes of the professional jesters and buffoons, to the hairraising accounts of crime committed in the city, or to the dreadful threats and prophecies of some friar or hermit just returned from the Holy Land ; but even if these conversations could be repeated, the meaning and the witticisms would in most cases be incomprehensible to our modern minds. The old men recalled events of their youth ; they described floods so terrible that the swollen Arno overflowed its banks and turned the city into a lake, causing widespread ruin and the deaths of many persons by drowning. Besides this feared and constantly recurring disaster, there were the fires which had several times destroyed Florence, and which were due partly to the carelessness of the inhabitants and the great amount of inflammable material collected within a confined space, and partly to the malice and revenge of the various parties and factions. These conflagrations claimed many victims ; whole families perished together and a great deal of property, valuable furniture and precious things were lost. Wherefore the sage advisers of the day were constantly reminding the people to take all precautions against fire and to have a way of escape ready from doors, windows.

or roof in case of a blaze in the house. There were also the robberies committed by the armed adherents or servants of certain families, who sallied forth at night with a banner bearing their master's arms and an escort of foot-soldiers, and broke into houses, carrying ofF everything, even to the garments and bedclothes of the household and " leaving the children, both male and female, naked upon their bedsteads ; worse things were not done even in Acre by the Saracens." These attacks, moreover, were arranged beforehand, for it is related how certain persons previously went about to all the threatened houses, warning the women and " offering to take charge of and keep safely anything which they might desire to place in security during the time of danger then about to begin. But when once these ruffians had got hold of the property they gave very little of it back to the owners, and only replied with threats to those who demanded the restoration of their ill-gotten gains.

These melancholy tales, however, were often varied by more cheerful memories. The gossips would tell of the merry discussions held in lordly assemblies where the guests passed their time in listening to jests and entertaining stories, and where the jesters and story-tellers who were engaged to provide the amusement sometimes failed to please and were maltreated in consequence. Repartee and witty remarks were permitted to inferiors, even to the servants who waited at table.

'' A company of knights was once supping in one of the great Florentine houses, and there was present a jester who was a most excellent story-teller. When the supper was finished he began a tale which seemed as though it would never end. A youth belonging to the house, who was serving the company and was probably hungry for his own supper, called him by name and said —

" ' He who taught thee that tale did not teach thee all.'

" ' How so ? ' asked the jester.

"And the youth replied, 'Because he did not teach thee the end.' "

Those who made it their business to spread city gossip took less delight in witty sayings, however, than in the practical jokes played upon countrymen and persons of feeble mind. They described a trick played by the shop-boys of a jacket maker upon a peasant (peasants were popularly called martori^ or martyrs) who had come into Florence to buy himself a jacket, or smock.

" He entered a shop and asked for the master. He was not there. Said an apprentice, ' I am the master ; what desirest thou .? '

" ' I want a smock,' said the peasant.

" The apprentice found one suitable, and the peasant tried it on and inquired the price. The poor man did not, however, possess a quarter of the sum, so was bidden to draw off the smock. Now in pretending to try on the smock and arrange it about the man's legs, the apprentice had secretly fastened it to his shirt, so that when the peasant drew off the smock he drew off his shirt with it and stood there naked. The other apprentices were ready with their straps, and the peasant was whipped and mocked at throughout all the country side."

Even the priests never dreamt of treating the country people as Christians. "A peasant went to confession, one day, and having taken some holy water, he saw the priest busy in the orchard. He called to him and said :

" 'Oh, sir, I desire to make confession.'

" ' Didst thou confess last year ? ' asked the priest.

" The man answered that he had done so.

" ' Then,' said the worthy cleric, ' put a penny in the box and consider that I have granted thee the same forgiveness this year as I did last.' "

Those who were stupid or dull-witted had to take the consequences, beside being the victims of practical jokes, as was the case with Ser Frulli, an old man who owned a fine farm on the hill of San Giorgio, and lived there with his family almost all the year round. Every morning he used to send his servant to sell fruit and vegetables in the square near the bridge, and he was so miserly and distrustful that he tied up the bundles of vegetables himself, counted them, and told the girl how much money he expected her to bring back. The chief injunction he laid upon her, however, was that she must never dawdle in the street of San Giorgio, because the women there were thieves. Now there was a Florentine named Bito, who lived in the quarter of San Giorgio and was noted for his amusing tricks, one of which he determined to play on Ser Frulli. He put on a rich, fur-trimmed dress, the best he had, and sat down on the seat outside his own door. When the servant came by with a basket of cabbages he called her, and she went up to him immediately, although she had paid no attention to several women who had previously offered to buy from her.

" Good woman, how much do these cabbages cost ? " asked Bito.

" Messere, two bundles for a penny."

" Certainly this is a good portion. But seeing that all my family is away in the country and that I am alone here with my servant, a whole portion would be too much for me. Moreover, I prefer to eat my vegetables whilst they are fresh."

At that time small medals were in current use in Florence, two medals being worth a penny ; wherefore Bito said :

"Give me a medal's worth. Now then, give thou me a penny and I give thee a medal, and another day will I take the second bundle."

The girl thought it was all right and did as she was told ; then she went on and sold the remainder of her vegetables at the price fixed by her master. When she returned home she handed the money to Ser Frulli, who immediately counted it over and found it a penny short. He questioned the girl, but she replied that it was impossible ; the money was correct. Thereupon he grew angry with her and asked her if she had stopped anywhere in San Giorgio. At first she tried to deny it, but her master frightened her so much that she admitted it and said :

" Yes, I stopped and sold to a fair knight and he paid me well. Moreover, he bade me bring him another bundle of cabbages."

" Then we have lost half a penny," answered Ser FruUi.

He thought over the matter and presently perceived the trick, whereupon he began to abuse the servant roundly and asked where the man lived to whom she had sold the cabbages. She described the house, and then he knew that it was Bito, who had already played him a number of tricks. He was furious, and the next morning he got up early, hid a rusty sword under his cloak and went to the square by the bridge, where he found Bito sitting with a number of other people. Ser Frulli drew his sword and would have wounded Bito if another man had not immediately seized him by the arms ; and the people all drew back in alarm, thinking there was going to be an uproar. Bito was frightened at first, but then, remembering what had happened, he began to laugh. Thereupon the people surrounded Ser Frulli and asked what was the matter, and he described the whole affair, though he was so breathless he could scarcely speak. Bito called for silence, however, and said :

" Ser Frulli, I will make terms with you ; let us have no more words. Give me back my penny and take your medal, and ye may also have your cabbages, and a curse go with them ! "

Ser FruUi answered, " It is well, and if ye had spoken thus at the first, all this trouble would never have been."

And not perceiving the fresh trick, he gave back the penny and received a medal in exchange and departed quite content, amidst great laughter from the crowd.

Ill

' I 'HERE was probably no material difference' -■■ between these rough and simple people, who were so easily deceived even when they imagined themselves very sharp, and those earlier Florentines, the contemporaries of Cacciaguida, so greatly extolled by Dante. In every age it happens that the countryman who moves into the city and becomes a town dweller is anxious to conceal his origin, and therefore speaks scornfully of his companions of yesterday. Fiorenza had conquered and subjugated the surrounding country, compelling the nobles who owned or ruled the land to come within the city, where their overbearing pride sowed the seed of those discords which presently divided it into opposing factions. Meanwhile, however, in the midst of political discord there was ripening that social revolution which was destined to place the government of public affairs in the hands of the people and the guilds, to change the feudal and agricultural city into a city of merchants, of craftsmen, and of bankers, and to give the hegemony of the republic, with all its natural and legitimate consequences, to the Guild of Wool

and the merchants of the Calimala.

For this phenomenon of attraction towards the city, which in a few years so marvellously altered the appearance of Fiorenza (the spread of buildings being no more than the outward sign and effect of the social change), Dante possessed neither sympathy nor understanding. To quote the words of Carducci : " In the rapid extension of the Commune he beheld only anarchy ; in the exuberance of economic and commercial life he saw nothing but corruption ; in the striving of the plebs for the conquest of political rights he only saw repulsive peasants of Aguglione or of Signa, the sons of beggars who once implored alms in Semifonte, but who now shut the gates of his native town in the face of him who, born of pure Roman blood, had been obliged, out of love for his country, to inscribe himself in the Guild of the Apothecaries." For this reason the words he puts into the mouth of Cacciaguida in praise of the simple and dignified life of the good old times, and his furious invectives against the shameless Florentine women because they followed the new customs (fashions had not yet been invented) and wore dresses exposing their neck and shoulders, appear rather as opportune subjects for two magnificent outbursts of poetry than serious and impartial documents of historical truth. Paraphrasing the poet, Giovanni Villani wrote : " The citizens of Florence lived soberly and upon coarse food, spending but little money, and in their manners and customs were rough and rude. They dressed both themselves and their wives in coarse cloth, many of the men going bare-legged without hose, and they all wore caps on their heads and boots on their feet. The Florentine women wore shoes without any ornaments, and most of them dressed in a narrow petticoat of the rough scarlet cloth of Ypres or Cam, with a belt and buckle in the ancient fashion, and a mantle lined with vaire, having a hood which they drew over their heads. The women of the lower orders wore the coarse green cloth of Cambrai made after the same manner. One hundred lire was the usual dowry given with a wife, and two or three hundred was considered magnificent at that time, and the maidens were usually twenty years old or more when they were married. Such were the garments and customs of the Florentines of those days ; but they were of good faith and loyal unto each other and to the Commune, and, in spite of their rude life and their poverty, they achieved greater and more important things than are done in our times with more civilisation and more wealth."