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It was the third Sunday in Advent and no one in Florence wanted to miss Savonarola’s sermon. Mauricio calculated that some fourteen thousand people had congregated in Santa Maria del Fiore in order to hear him preach. The Duomo was incapable of accommodating that many worshippers, so a great multitude had been obliged to stay outdoors and had invaded the square surrounding the cathedral. And this was without a single woman attending! The friar had dealt with politics in his latest sermons and considered it was unsuitable for women to hear or have any opinions concerning that subject. Mauricio was happy about this prohibition, if only for the fact that it avoided the risk of dying of asphyxiation. To protect himself from the cold, he had chosen a thick tunic of black wool, a color the Spanish had made fashionable, and the traditional Florentine headgear, the cappucci, which could be wrapped around one’s head in different ways according to the personal style of the wearer. Calfskin shoes with stout hand-sewn soles completed his warm outfit that, due to the massive attendance, was making him sweat heavily even though it was December.
Savonarola, clothed in a black cassock and clutching a crucifix in his right hand, began his sermon.
“The time has come to change the corrupt government of Florence for another that will help it become the city of heaven on earth. I predicted, and you are all witnesses, the death of Lorenzo de Medici, the downfall of his son Piero, and the arrival of a foreign army in Italy for the expiation of your sins. But I also comforted you by saying that Florence would remain inviolate, for issuing from her a new democratic government would be born and become a mirror and a guiding light for the rest of the world.”
Many considered Savonarola to be a true prophet and were convinced that not only had he saved Florence from being pillaged by the French army by his mere presence, but that he had also persuaded King Charles to abandon the city. Mauricio thought that the charismatic personality of the monk might have exerted a certain influence on the voluble young monarch, nevertheless, he knew from his own sources of information that Begni, the captain of the French army, had insisted that the king leave Florence in order to make the most of the absence of heavy rains and snow. Whichever the reason, what constituted a veritable miracle was the fact that during the foreign occupation, there had only been a dozen deaths, due to isolated fights, especially when taking into account the enormous amount of heavily armed people living together in the city.
“For far too long,” Savonarola cried out from the pulpit, “this city has suffered under a tyranny masquerading in the guise of a republic. The Signoria and the councils were like whitened sepulchers, beautiful from the outside, but full of bones, maggots, and filth within. Yes, because the important positions of power were not elected democratically but by means of lotteries, rigged by the Medici. In truth I tell you, we must abolish the institutions that belong to the past, now that we are initiating a new era to the greater glory of God. Let us keep the Signoria and also create a smaller council to rule the city, but whose members must be elected justly. Above all, let us create a council of one thousand five hundred members who will have the last word on any matter. One thousand five hundred people from all the guilds and different social strata can be neither corrupted nor manipulated. In the city of God, it is the people who will govern. It is the Lord’s will: as he communicates it to me, I shall then show you.”
Savonarola had clearly sided with the faction in favor of endowing the republic with an authentically popular government and against those who considered it preferable that the institutions should stay in the hands of a small elite. Mauricio had more pressing problems to worry about. The sinking of the Santa Maria on its way back from the East Indies had meant he had lost a large part of his assets: pepper, cinnamon, nutmeg, silks, perfumes, pearls, and precious stones all amounting to the value of twenty thousand florins, had ended up at the bottom of the sea after a deadly combat with Barbary Coast pirates. Along with the Santa María, the insurance company had failed and had been declared bankrupt. Furthermore, the substantial loan that had funded Columbus’s voyage had not yet been repaid, despite him having discovered an alternative route to the Indies. Just to make things even worse, the convent of San Marcos had cancelled an important order of ecclesiastical vestments once they had already been made. Mauricio had a strong suspicion that the person responsible for this decision was precisely that friar, who brandishing his crucifix was busy dazzling the multitudes from his pulpit. In fact, it was common knowledge that Savonarola hated the Jews, whom he considered responsible for the martyrdom of Jesus Christ. Without Mauricio knowing the motive, someone had taken it upon themselves to propagate the rumor that his father and grandparents were, in fact, Jews and that he was a false convert as well. If that report had reached the ears of Savonarola, the prior of San Marcos could well have cancelled the order, fearful that the robes might have been contaminated by infidel hands.
Mauricio thought of the emerald that Lorenzo had entrusted him on his deathbed. Thanks to that precious stone he had been able to enjoy a magnificent life, and it might even help him yet again to avoid his own ruin … if he were to sell it, going against Il Magnifico’s last wishes. Two and a half years had passed without news from the unknown but legitimate proprietor. Nevertheless, the unimaginable happens just when one least expects it, and that very morning a letter had arrived claiming the return of the jewel. The temptation to rip up the letter and forget about the whole matter was very great, almost irresistible. Mauricio resolved in the meantime to delay answering. There would be time enough to give back such a valuable object when his economic situation had improved.
“Changing the way of governing is necessary, but it is not enough,” bellowed Savonarola in a powerful voice. “Your life must change or your flesh will be flayed in Hades for all eternity. Yes, because sin is flowering in our city. The worst vices are tolerated without anyone punishing them. This must stop. If your eyes are scandalized it is better to rip them out rather than be dragged into hell because of them. For this reason, and with your well-being in mind, I am going to propose a series of laws to encourage sinners to tread the right path. If they are unwilling to follow the road of virtue willingly, guided by God’s love, then let them at least do it for fear of punishment. Many are the vices nesting in our city. Perhaps the very worst of all is that of sodomy. This abominable vice offends God and although violence toward one’s neighbor is unacceptable, it has to be torn out of Florence, like a weed. Therefore, when a sodomite is discovered, I propose a symbolic punishment: let the culprit be taken to the outer walls of the Bargello, have his hands tied to one of the iron rings and attach a sign to his chest explaining the crime that has been committed. Let him be exhibited in this manner for all to jibe at for three hours while the old prison bell is rung and in this way ensure that he never sins again. If he were to do so, then let his punishment be physical as well. Attached to a column, let the whip lash his back for all to behold. If he were still to persist in practicing this ignominious act, then let him burn at the stake, for it would be better that his flesh burn rather than his soul.”
Mauricio looked around him. The men’s faces all looked grim. Sodomy was a vice that was publicly condemned, but tolerated in practice, to such an extent that the French used the word “Florentine” as a synonym for homosexual. But things were going to change. Mauricio did not have the slightest doubt that the law the friar was proposing would be passed, for anyone opposing it would immediately be suspected of practicing this sin against nature. Personally, he had no reason to be worried but he had a foreboding that this was the beginning of a new era: the golden age announced by Savonarola started by excluding women and persecuting sodomites, but after this would come the prostitutes, the Jews, the heretics, and finally the persecution of all those who did not conform to the monk’s idea of what constituted an exemplary Christian. This was worrying, even more so considering that Mauricio shared very few of the opinions dear to the monk’s heart.
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As he left the church, Mauricio bumped into his friend Bruno.
“It would seem that our friar does not consider respecting contracts as a pious virtue,” said Bruno ironically. “A shame, for otherwise he would have threatened the defaulters with fifty lashes or any other torture devised by his fertile imagination and the monks of the convent of San Marcos would have abstained from cancelling the order of monastic vestments which now lie gathering dust in our warehouse.”
Mauricio was grateful that his friend Bruno had not reproached him in any way, for he knew only too well that the only reason the monks had cancelled the order was due to the rumors circulating about him being a Jew masquerading as a Christian.
“At least we shall have the satisfaction of filing a complaint against the convent of San Marcos,” said Mauricio, giving free rein to his pent-up anger as they walked away from the cathedral.
“That gypsy curse!” laughed Bruno. “Get involved in court cases and win them all! You’ll be lucky: long legal suits spending money on lawyers so that in the end, God knows when, a judge passes whatever sentence he pleases with no other grounds than his state of mind that day or his false interest in the case. Just leave it in my hands and I shall try to come to some agreement with them at San Marcos. As things stand, with Savonarola in his role of a rising star, I fear that a poor agreement will be preferable than winning a lawsuit.”
Mauricio knew his friend was right. In court, the San Marcos defense would allege that the delivery was going to be made when the date agreed had already expired, that the habits were not of the required quality or any other excuse which some petty lawyer could come up with. In the final instance, when magistrates passed a sentence, it was always on the side of the mighty. And nobody in Florence was mightier than Savonarola.
“Best if we content ourselves with losing as little as possible in such a disastrous business,” admitted Mauricio. “What is truly irretrievable, though, is the cargo sunk by the Barbary pirates.”
“Yes, there we have thrown a good part of our fortune overboard,” said Bruno looking melancholic. “And the height of bad luck was that the company ensuring the shipment has gone bankrupt. We really seem to have walked straight into a pile of cow dung.”
“Or something worse. We have not seen a single florin or even a damned maravedi of the money we lent Christopher Columbus.”
“But we invested there not necessarily thinking that the loan would be returned, but more for the business opportunities that would open to us if Columbus were to discover a faster and safer route to the Indies. As incredible as it might seem, he achieved this, so sooner or later we should be making huge profits.”
“God grant you be right, Bruno, because at the moment these Indies that Columbus has reached possess neither silk nor rich spices to trade with.”
“For that reason, sugarcane cuttings are being sent to these newly discovered lands.”
Mauricio knew how expensive sugar was, the only substance that was even sweeter than honey. It was difficult to grow in Europe because of the lack of water, but the recently discovered islands seemed an ideal place to plant sugar canes. However, this was a long-term business idea and Mauricio needed money urgently.
“The Catholic Monarchs rewarded the admiral’s success, among other favors, with a thousand gold doblas. He could at least have paid us out of the rewards he received.”
“You are right, Mauricio. Nevertheless Columbus excused himself by alleging great debts, which he had contracted before, and assuring us that he would pay us with the gold he returned with after his second voyage. What could we do? Columbus is a hero in Spain and whatever complaint directed at him would be as futile as punching into thin air. However, the moment he reaches the court of the Great Kahn, we shall be able to buy and sell spices while avoiding the exorbitant tolls that raise the price of oriental products so much. Never doubt for one moment that our households will soon be awash with great riches.”
“Maybe, but I do not think it will be thanks to that plant the Indians from these new lands smoke and inhale.”
Bruno laughed heartily at Mauricio’s pleasantry. A few weeks ago they had tried some dried leaves, called tobacco by the Indians, which they rolled up in a small pipe, lit one end of a little tube, and then inhaled the other. They had immediately started coughing, as small clouds of smoke came from their mouths and their irritated eyes became red and watery.
“Well, I definitely think that a tobacco plantation could be just about the most disastrous business of all times,” asserted Bruno. “Those Indian savages might like inhaling that damn smoke but no decent Christian in his sane mind would ever think of imitating them.”
90
Luca would always remember the first of January, 1495, with enormous pride. The Piazza della Signoria was replete with citizens eager to see the swearing in of the people who would be in charge of governing the affairs of Florence for the next two months. They would be the ones to represent the golden age born when the new constitution was approved. To his delight, he was one of the chosen few. Yes, he, Luca Albizzi, had been appointed as one of the nine members of the Signoria. Justice had finally been done to his honor.
He felt a tinge of sadness that his parents, now dead, could not contemplate the glory of that moment. The multitude gathered in the piazza was acclaiming them like heroes. It was not in vain that they were the elected representatives of the first popular government, one that contained not the slightest trace of Medici influence. Luca was jubilant. Being a prior of the Signoria was the highest privilege a Florentine could ever hope to attain and to have been chosen at such an emotionally historical moment made it even more significant.
All the families who had been exiled since 1434 were allowed to return, so many Albizzi had already come back to an enthusiastic welcome from the people of Florence. Savonarola, a great advocate of harmony, was putting a lot of energy into encouraging a peaceful climate in order to avoid retaliations between the families who had been banished and the traditional followers of the Medici.
It was probably due to his great influence that no serious conflicts ever arose. However, there were certain situations that in all justice needed urgently to be taken care of. Understandably, the properties that the exiles had arbitrarily lost in the past had to be returned to them. Luca harbored a secret hope to benefit from retrieving some farms and a house that had belonged to his forefathers. It seemed beyond any doubt that the mansion in which Mauricio and Lorena lived would be returned to the heirs of Tommaso Pazzi, as it had been adjudicated in 1478 to a company controlled by Lorenzo de Medici in payment of a non-existent debt. Subsequently, Lorenzo had sold it to Mauricio, but the transaction had been invalid from the start. Luca certainly had every intention of using his position as a prior and exerting influence in the drawing up of a law that would guarantee the return of properties to their rightful owners. However, he also had other plans to get his revenge on Mauricio: turning him out of his house would be the first of a series of humiliations culminating with his imprisonment, torture, and finally his public execution. Luca gloated with pleasure at the thought of all the pain Lorena was going to endure. Power would now allow him to put into practice everything he had dreamed of for years.
At the same time, being elected a member of the Signoria was not all about its advantages. The priors were obliged to lodge in the Government Palace during the whole of their appointment and were forbidden to go out. In this way, the system ensured that the priors were unable to receive any kind of external influence, for their actions had to be exclusively directed toward the common good. Although a legion of servants would take care of their every need down to the smallest detail, Luca was certain that he would miss his wife Maria. It was quite obvious that his wife was hardly an intellectual prodigy, but she did possess great sensitivity, which enabled her to anticipate the thoughts of others and answer their needs. Normally, this was something that Luca took for granted, without giving it the slightest importance. After all, that was the
natural order of things. He dealt with the outside world, providing their home with every commodity, while his wife had to ensure the well-being of every member of the household. It seemed logical to him therefore, that although he might be in a foul temper, his wife should counter this with smiles, silences, and sweet words according to the circumstances. Now that he was about to enter the Signoria Palace, he realized that life would be less pleasant without Maria by his side.
He would also miss his children, but really it was not that bad. After all, the responsibilities involved in the Signoria worked on a rota system and only lasted for two months. It was therefore important to act competently during that time and obtain the maximum benefit possible, but in such a stealthy way that afterward nobody could reproach him for his actions. His days as a second-class citizen were over. Honors attract riches, and these always bring greater dignity. Luca Albizzi was at last in the place to which he belonged by birthright.
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Early in the afternoon, Lorena went to visit her sister, knowing that Luca would not be in the mansion but still confined in the Signoria Palace. As Maria’s children did not seem to be there either, she was pleased to be able to talk to her sister alone, a luxury she had not enjoyed for some time.
“How strange to find this house so quiet and with such little activity,” commented Lorena.
“I know, it is not a bad thing to have a bit of peace and quiet once in a while,” Maria said smiling, evidently content. “I left the younger girls in the convent of Santa Monica. We know some nuns there who aside from being the very embodiment of piety can also embroider like angels. The little ones will not only learn to pray in Latin, but will become so nimble with needle and thread that they will soon be the envy of the best tailors in town. The three older boys are in the convent of San Marcos receiving instruction from Friar Girolamo Savonarola. The prior of San Marcos is of the opinion that the young are Florence’s great hope, not only for the future but also for the present, and so he wishes to organize a sort of Christian militia in which the children will be the mirror the parents see themselves reflected in. My husband is delighted with the training the boys are receiving from Friar Girolamo.”
The Florentine Emerald: The Secret of the Convert's Ring Page 31
