“On the 24th February, 1299, the foundations of the Palazzo de’ Priori,
for the Commune and the People of Florence, were laid,” writes Giovanni
Villani, “the Priors not feeling themselves in safety where they had
hitherto lived, that is to say in the house of the Cerchi behind the
church of San Procolo.” Arnolfo Cambio was the architect chosen to
build the palace, and he took as his model the one built at Poppi by
his father Lapo. Vasari’s story that he could not make it square and
straight as he desired, because the people would not allow him to build
where the houses of those hated Ghibellines the Uberti once stood, is
not borne out by history, for Villani states, and various documents
dating from 1299 to 1311 confirm his words, that the site occupied by
the houses of the Uberti was made into a square, so that it might never
again be built upon. Houses of other citizens, such as the Foraboschi
and the Della Vacca, were bought, and where they stood was erected the
palace. The tower of the Priors still retains the name of the latter
family, one of whom, Falcone Della Vacca, was an Elder of the city in
1260, and from it the street opposite is called Vacchereccia. When in
those “good old times” Guelphs and Ghibellines, Whites and Blacks, flew
at each other’s throats, and the great bell rang to call the people to
arms, the saying was _la vacca mugghia_ (the cow is lowing).
[Illustration: COURTYARD OF PALAZZO VECCHIO.]
Vasari’s statement that Arnolfo filled up most of the old tower to
build his own upon was disproved in 1814. The architect del Rosso,
in executing some restorations in the old palace, discovered a small
dark room which had been walled up, and which he surmised, probably
correctly, to have been the famous Alberghettino, or Barberia, where
Cosimo the Elder was immured, and in later days Savonarola. In one
corner of this room is a rectangular opening, or well, the bottom of
which is about ten and a half feet below the level of the courtyard;
various underground passages, to which access is obtained by a man-hole
in the guard-room, communicate with it and seem to bear out the old
tales of secret trapdoors down which unhappy prisoners disappeared
for ever. Vasari is also wrong in saying that part of the church of
San Piero Scheraggio was destroyed at the same time, for it was only
partially swept away to widen the street a century later.[103]
The tallest part of the Palazzo Vecchio with five windows on the
northern side and six on the western (not counting the modern balcony)
crowned with the square, so-called Guelph battlements, is Arnolfo’s
original building and his design was faithfully carried out after his
death in 1301. The tower, so majestic, and at the same time so elegant
is a model of daring and skill, half resting as it does on the alur,
or covered passage, supported by machicolations, which surrounds the
top of the palace. Half-way up the tower is another alur, adorned with
swallow-tailed, or so-called Ghibelline battlements, whence rise four
columns with Gothic capitals, supporting the battlemented top of the
tower with its golden lion, the emblem of Florence, as a weathercock.
It was not until 1344 that the bell of the Council, which till then
had been suspended on the battlements of the palace, was hung in the
tower, so that it might be better heard on the opposite side of the
Arno. In its place was put the bell from Vernio, which rang to warn
the guards whenever a fire burst out in the town. In 1363 the bell of
Foiano, taken when the castle was sacked, was brought to Florence and
placed above the alur, to tell the merchants that the dinner hour had
come. The big bell cracked and in 1373 was recast by a certain Ricco di
Lapo, when it was said that it could be heard for thirteen miles round
the city. When the Florentine arms were victorious, it rang for days in
token of triumph, until Duke Alessandro de’ Medici destroyed it in 1532.
The Gonfaloniers and the Priors lived entirely in the Palazzo Vecchio
during the two months they were in office and were not allowed to go
out save on pressing business affecting the Commune. No one could speak
to them in private, they were forbidden to accept any invitations
and no one could dine with them save the notary of the city; but
their dinners, served on silver plate, were excellent and their wines
choice. Rastrelli writes: “Ten golden florins were assigned each day
to the Priors solely for their food, all other expenses being defrayed
by the Commune of Florence. This sum was for the maintenance of the
Gonfalonier, the Priors, the notary, the nine donzelli, or office
servants, five monks who served the chapel of the palace, two who had
charge of the seal of the Commune, and the almsgiver and bursar, who
were also monks; there were also the curial notary, two mazzieri, or
mace-bearers, and a cook who was bound to keep two scullions; two
trumpeters and two pifferi, to play while the Signori were at table,
four bell-ringers and one servant.... No man who had been a Gonfalonier
could be arrested until a year had elapsed from the time of his holding
office, save for some very heinous offence, and he was allowed to
carry arms of any kind for the rest of his life.”[104] In front of the
great door of the palace, where now are the steps and a platform, was
the _ringhiera_,[105] erected in 1323, of which one hears so often in
the history of Florence. Here the Podestà harangued the people from
his _bigoncia_, or pulpit, and here the Gonfalonier received the
Standard of the People in state and delivered batons of command to the
various condottieri who served the Republic. On the ringhiera Walter
de Brienne, Duke of Athens and Count of Lecce, met the Priors on the
8th September, 1342, when the people and the nobles shouted, “Let the
Duke have command for life, let the Duke be our lord.” The latter,
gathering round him, forced open the door of the palace, led him into
the apartment of the Priors and hailed him as ruler. The Priors were
relegated to the Sala delle Armi, the white silken banner with the red
cross of the People was removed, the books containing the enactments
were torn to shreds, and the Duke’s flag, foreign to Florence, was
unfurled on the tower, while the bell of Liberty rang out the _Dio
laudiamo_. Two days later the Priors were thrust out, and the Palazzo
de’ Priori became the Palazzo Ducale.
A council of Wise Men was instituted by the Duke, with but one
Florentine among them, Cerettieri Visdomini, a man of evil repute; and
soon the growing dissatisfaction of his subjects made the Duke think
about fortifying himself in the palace. “He caused,” writes Giovanni
Villani, “the _antiporta_, or fortified porch, in front of the Palace
of the People to be built, and put iron bars in the windows of the Sala
de’ Dugento, or Council Chamber, being afraid and suspicious of the
citizens; and ordered that the whole palace of the Figliuoli Petri,
the towers and houses of the Manieri, of the Mancini and of Bello
Alberti, comprising the ancient citadel, and extending into the piazza,
should be included in the circuit of the said palace. He began to lay
foundations of thick walls, and of towers and barbicans, to make of the
palace a great and strong fortress; stopping the work of building the
Ponte Vecchio, which was of such infinite necessity to the Commune of
Florence, and taking from thence hewn stone and timber. He threw down
the houses of San Romolo in order to extend the piazza as far as the
houses of Garbo ... and demanded permission from the papal court to
destroy San Piero Scheraggio, Santa Cecilia, and Santo Romolo, but the
Pope refused his consent. From the citizens he took certain palaces
and houses that stood round about the palace, and lodged in them his
barons and followers without paying any rent.” Vasari, in his life
of Andrea Pisani, writes: “Walter, Duke of Athens and tyrant of the
Florentines, made use of Andrea also in architectural matters, causing
him to enlarge the piazza. Opposite to San Piero Scheraggio, he added
the walls, encased with ‘_bozzi_,’ alongside of the palace to enlarge
it, and in the width of the wall he constructed a secret staircase for
going up and down without being seen. In the said façade of ‘_bozzi_’
he made a large door, which serves to-day for the customs, and above it
he placed his arms, all being done according to the design and advice
of Andrea.” The addition made by the Duke of Athens extends, on the
northern side, to the door now called della Dogana, and his battlements
adjoin the machicolations which sustain the alur surrounding Arnolfo’s
original building. On the southern side, where once stood S. Piero
Scheraggio, and now stands the Uffizi, can be seen the door of the
old dogana, above which were the Duke’s arms, effaced by order of the
magistrates when he was deposed.
On the 26th July, 1343, the Florentines rose against the Duke. Armed
bands suddenly invaded the streets, waving banners which had been
secretly prepared with the arms of the People emblazoned upon them, and
shouting, “Death to the Duke and his followers! Long live the Commune
and Liberty!” They released the prisoners from the Stinche, forced
open the door of the Palazzo del Podestà, and burnt all the records.
Next day the Duke, hoping to pacify the people, offered the honour of
knighthood to one of their leaders, who disdainfully refused, and told
him he had better haul down his flag and replace the banner of the
People on the tower. Meanwhile the allies of Florence hastened to her
aid. Siena sent three hundred horse and four thousand bowmen, Prato
five hundred men-at-arms, S. Miniato two hundred, while the peasants
of the country round seized what weapons they could and poured into
the city. The Bishop Acciajuoli, the nobles and the _popolani_ met in
Sta. Reparata and elected fourteen citizens, seven nobles, and seven
_popolani_, giving them full power to make laws, while six others,
three from each caste, were to keep order and see that violence and
robbery should be severely punished. To save himself the Duke delivered
his chief adviser, Guglielmo d’Assisi, with his young son, into the
hands of the surging multitude in the Piazza. The lad was torn to
pieces first, and then his father. The old chronicler gives details
of this tragedy too horrible to repeat, and then continues: “On the
3rd August the Fourteen men of Florence appointed to set things right
in the city went to the Palazzo de’ Priori, with Count Simone and
much people, and the Duke ceded the Lordship, saying he had taken it
treacherously, by cunning and by falsehood, as he should not have done.
The said Duke threw down the baton on the ground, and then picked it up
and gave it to the Fourteen, thus delivering to them the Lordship for
the Commune of Florence, and these Fourteen were Lords for the Commune,
and this was written down. The Duke quitted his room that very evening,
and the Fourteen entered it, and by courtesy he was allowed to have
another room with fifteen of his people. During the day it was publicly
ordered several times that every man should lay down his arms, the
bells of the Palazzo de’ Priori rang joyously, great bonfires were lit
on the palace and in every corner of Florence. In truth it was a fine
festival.”
For three days, until the people became quieter, the Duke remained in
the palace, and then left at night with a strong escort, carrying off
all the gold plate which had been made for him of the value of 30,000
golden florins. When he got to Poppi he ratified, “but with a very evil
grace,” the renunciation of the Lordship of Florence, and by way of
Bologna went to Venice, whence he returned to Apulia.
The Fourteen repealed all the Duke’s laws, and with that odd
childishness that sometimes shows itself in the Florentine character,
spent twenty golden florins to have him and his chief advisers painted
“in ignominious fashion” on the tower of the palace of the Podestà and
elsewhere. The day of S. Anna was decreed a public festival, and on
that day the banners of the Guilds are still hung round Or San Michele
in remembrance of the deposition of the tyrant of Florence. They also
demolished the fortified porch, built by the Duke in front of the great
door of the palace, and restored the ringhiera. Signor Gotti, in his
exhaustive work on the old palace, thinks that about the same time
the two stone lions, which were gilt, said to have been sculptured by
Giovanni de’ Nobili, were placed on either side of the entrance. Matteo
Villani speaks of four others, which the Priors, in 1353, “having
little else to attend to on account of the leisure born of peace,
caused to be carved of granite and gilded at great expense, and placed
on the four corners of the palace of the People of Florence. This they
did for a certain vanity that obtained at that time, instead of having
them cast in bronze and then gilt, which would have cost but little
more than the granite, would have been beautiful, and have lasted for
many centuries; but small things and great are continually being spoilt
in our city by the avaricious whims of the citizens.”[106]
Three years later the Signoria decided to build a loggia, a necessary
adjunct in those days to a palace, on the southern side of the Piazza
where the houses and tower of the Mint stood. But the project,
according to Matteo Villani, met with considerable opposition among
the citizens, who declared that “a loggia was suitable for tyrants,
not for the People,” and it remained in abeyance until, owing to
incessant rain, the installation of the new Priors on the 1st January,
1374, could not take place on the ringhiera, and the ceremony was
performed in the small church of S. Piero Scheraggio. The building
was then confided to the _Opera del Duomo_, and the _Operai_ named an
overseer--_Capudmagister operis Loggie_. According to Vasari, Andrea
Orcagna was ordered to make a design, and the work was given to him.
But Dr. Carl Frey, in his critical and learned work on the Loggia de’
Lanzi, writes: “But can the Loggia be attributed to Orcagna? When the
building was begun in 1376 Orcagna had already been dead seven or eight
years, so that we can only suppose that he may have made the design in
1356, when the idea was first started. Although Orcagna was probably
in Florence about that time there are many reasons against this. To
begin with, the first building was evidently intended to have been far
smaller, as in the documents of 1356 the erection of a loggia on ground
belonging to the Commune is mentioned: _in domibus comunis predicti
positis prope plateam populi Florentie, que vulgariter appellantur
domus della moneta_, whereas the resolution passed in 1374 deals with
the acquisition and demolition of other people’s houses, indicating
the intention of occupying a larger space. It is evident that as
the necessary land had not been bought in 1374, nothing had been
definitely settled, and there could have been no question of choosing
an architect--a choice which rested with the _Operai_--or of a design,
to be made by an architect and then approved by the _Operai_....
Orcagna seems to have had many enemies in Florence; at least, such
is the impression left on one’s mind after reading the documents,
for he was not regularly employed on the Duomo, but only called in
consultation with other masters, and although various committees had
approved of his model and design for the pillars [of the Loggia], in
the end the work was entrusted to Francesco Talenti. This goes to prove
that Orcagna had no hand in designing the Loggia, as it is hardly
likely that the _Operai_ would have permitted a plan rejected by them
to be carried out, or that Simone, Francesco Talenti’s son, would have
chosen Orcagna’s design in preference to a better one by his father
or by himself. A comparison between the columns of the Loggia, the
Duomo and the Tabernacolo [Or San Michele] is sufficient. To all this
we need only add the absolute silence of all contemporary writers, to
feel convinced that Orcagna neither built nor made the design for the
Loggia dei Signori. When the _Operai del Duomo_ undertook the building
of the Loggia, their Capomaestri were Simone Talenti, son of the famous
architect who succeeded Arnolfo and Giotto as overseer of the building
of the Duomo and of the Campanile; Taddeo di Ristori, who was appointed
overseer of the new building for the month of October; and Benci di
Cioni Dami of Como, who took his place as Capomaestro of the Duomo.”
Dr. Carl Frey thinks that probably the design of the Loggia was made
by the three architects in common, but that the columns and all the
ornamentation are due to Simone Talenti.[107]
But we must return to the palace and the Priors, who on the 19th July,
1378, heard that a revolution was to break out next day. So they
arrested a certain Simoncino, and the Proposto led him in front of
the altar in the chapel[108] and interrogated him. Their conversation
is given by Gino Capponi in his history of the Republic. “Simoncino
said, yesterday I was with eleven others in the hospital of the priests
in the Via San Gallo, and having summoned other minor artisans, we
determined that about six to-morrow a revolution shall begin, as has
been ordered by certain leaders nominated by us some days ago. You
must know, Signore, that our number is infinite, and amongst us are
well-to-do and excellent artificers; also most of those who are under
police supervision have offered to join us. And, asked the Proposto,
if the people rise, what will they demand of the Signoria? They will
ask that the trades subject to the Guild of Wool should have their
own consuls and colleges, and they refuse to acknowledge any longer
the officer who worries them with trifles, or to deal with the master
clothiers [_maestri lanaiolo_] who pay them badly, and for work worth
twelve, only give them eight.” Poor Simoncino was incontinently handed
over to the captain, and, in the cant phrase of that day, “made to
sing,” _i. e._ tortured, until he confessed the name of the leader of
the revolt, Salvestro de’ Medici. But his shrieks and groans were heard
by Niccolò degl’Orivoli, who had charge of the clock in the tower;
he rushed into the street shouting, “Wake up, the Signori are making
meat,” and the people ran out of their houses ready armed, while the
church bells rang furiously. In a moment the Piazza was invaded by
a crowd shouting for the release of Simoncino and others who were in
prison; and when their demand was granted they dispersed, and went
through the streets setting fire to the houses of Luigi Guicciardini,
of the Gonfalonier, of one of the Albizzi, of Simone Peruzzi and of
others, and then to the palace of the Guild of Wool.
This was the famous Ciompi revolt, which but for the level head and
strong will of Michele di Lando, a poor wool carder, whose father sold
earthenware pots and pans, would have overthrown all law and order in
Florence. When the mob invaded the Palazzo de’ Priori, Michele, who,
according to an old chronicler, “was without stockings and had but
little on, held the banner of Justice aloft and turned to the crowd
asking what they intended to do. With one voice they saluted him as
Gonfalonier and Lord of Florence. He accepted the office, and to put
an end to robbery and arson ordered the erection of a gallows and
threatened all disturbers of the peace.... Creating new magistrates,
four chosen from the _popolo minuto_, two from the major Guilds, and
two from the minor, he dismissed the _Dieci di Guerra_; so that for
eighteen hours Michele may be said to have been absolute master of
Florence. Thinking that the new Gonfalonier favoured the _popolani
nobili_ at their expense, the mob returned to the piazza shouting
and rioting; not being listened to they went to Sta. Maria Novella
and created eight magistrates with consuls, so that the majesty of
Government was divided in two. But Michele di Lando would not suffer
such arrogance; with the weapon he had in his belt he severely wounded
the members of the deputation who had come to announce that he had been
superseded, and mounting a horse he took armed men and beat the rebels,
thus remaining in peaceful possession of his dignity.” Machiavelli,
in his narrative of the Ciompi riots bears eloquent testimony to the
poor wool carder. “The riots were put down solely by the energy of the
Gonfalonier, who far surpassed all other citizens of that time in
courage, prudence, and goodness; he deserved to be named among those
who have been benefactors of their country.”
In September, 1433, the Piazza della Signoria was once more invaded by
an angry crowd of _popolani_. Their benefactor and favourite, Cosimo
de’ Medici, had been treacherously seized and imprisoned in the small,
dark Alberghettina, or Barberia, in the tower of the palace, and they
feared the Signoria would make away with him. The great bell rang to
summon a parliament, and it is said that Cosimo heard the crowd below
debating as to his fate. For some days he refused all food fearing
poison. He appears to have had grounds for suspicion, as it is said
that the Captain of the Guard, Federigo de’ Malavolti of Siena, had
been asked to do away with him. He not only refused, but warned his
prisoner, and to prove his good faith tasted everything that was placed
before Cosimo, and thus induced him to eat. Machiavelli relates that
one evening Malavolti brought a facetious and pleasant fellow, a friend
of the Gonfalonier, surnamed il Fargonaccio, to supper to amuse Cosimo,
and then left them alone together. Cosimo, knowing the man he had to
deal with, gave him a token for the governor of the hospital of Sta.
Maria Nuova, who on receiving it was to give him 1100 ducats, 100 for
himself, and 1000 for the Gonfalonier. Cosimo in his diary remarks:
“They were people of small intelligence, for I would have given them
10,000 or more to escape from peril.”
Thanks to the Gonfalonier and the many friends Cosimo had in the city
and outside, he escaped with his life; but was condemned to exile for
ten years. He was recalled a year later and received with all honour by
the Signoria in the very palace in which he had been imprisoned. With
him came his friend and favourite architect, Michelozzo Michelozzi,
who had gone with him to Venice, and built there by his orders the
library of S. Giorgio Maggiore. To him was given the task of restoring
the noble old Palazzo de’ Priori, which showed signs of collapsing.
Vasari in his life of Michelozzi states that, “several columns in the
courtyard had suffered; either on account of the great weight they
had to bear, or that the foundations were weak and insufficient, or
because they were ill-built and the stones badly joined.... Michelozzi
made new foundations and rebuilt the columns as they now are, having
first put strong, upright beams of thick wood to support the curves
of the arches, with three-inch boards of walnut under the vaults, so
that the weight which had rested on the columns was evenly distributed
and sustained; and little by little he took those down which had
been badly put together and rebuilt them with well-wrought stone, in
such guise that the building suffered no harm and has never moved a
hairsbreadth. And in order to distinguish his columns from the others,
he made the octangular ones in the corners with leaves on the capitals
sculptured in the modern fashion, and some circular ones which can be
well distinguished from the old ones made by Arnolfo. Afterwards, by
the advice of Michelozzi, the ruler of the city ordered that the weight
resting on the arches of the columns should be diminished, that the
courtyard be rebuilt from the arches upwards, and that windows of a
modern order, like those he had designed for Cosimo in the courtyard
of the Medici palace, should be made, and the walls ornamented _a
sgraffio_, with the golden lilies which are still to be seen. All this
Michelozzi did with extreme rapidity, fashioning circular windows,
different from the others, above the windows of the second floor in
the said courtyard, to give light to some rooms above, where now is
the Hall of the Two Hundred. The third floor, where the Priors and
the Gonfalonier lived, he made more ornate, and arranged rooms for
the Priors on the side looking towards S. Piero Scheraggio; till then
they had slept all together in one room. Eight rooms were made for
the Priors, and a larger one for the Gonfalonier, all leading out of a
passage with windows on the courtyard, and above these he made another
set of convenient rooms for the servants of the palace ... also rooms
for the office and house servants, trumpeters, pifferi, mace-bearers,
and heralds, and various others necessary for such a palace. He also
made a stone cornice surrounding the courtyard above the alur, and
there he arranged a tank for rain water, in order to feed provisional
fountains when needed. Michelozzi also adorned the chapel where mass
was said, and made very rich ceilings, painted with golden lilies on
an azure ground, to many rooms near it, and in those above and below
in the palace he made new ceilings, covering all the old ones, which
were according to ancient fashion.... Only one thing the genius of
Michelozzi could not overcome, and that was the public staircase, which
was badly designed, built in the wrong place and most inconvenient,
being steep and dark, and made of wood from the first floor upwards.
Still he worked to such purpose that at the entrance to the courtyard
he made an approach of circular steps and a door with pilasters of
stone, whose beautiful capitals he sculptured with his own hand, a
cornice with double architraves of good design, and in the frieze were
the various arms of the Commune. He also made stone stairs up to the
floor where the Priors lived, and fortified them at the top and in the
middle with portcullises in case of tumults: and at the top of the
staircase he made a door which was called _la catena_, or ‘the barred,’
where one of the servants of the magistrates always stood to shut or
to open it, according to the orders of the master. The tower, which
had cracked owing to the weight of that part which rests obliquely,
that is to say on the corbels overlooking the Piazza, he fortified with
huge bands of iron. In short he improved and restored the palace in
such a way that the whole city praised him, and in addition to other
rewards he was appointed to be one of the ‘Collegio,’ magistrates
whose office is of the most honourable in Florence. If I seem to have
been too prolix in all this it must be excused, because having told, in
the _Life of Arnolfo_, how the palace was first built in 1298, crooked,
lacking every rational measurement, with columns in the courtyard that
did not match, large and small arches, inconvenient stairs, and dark
and ill-proportioned rooms, it was fitting that I should point but how
it was changed by the genius and judgment of Michelozzi.”
About the same time the Ten of Balìa, _considerato defectu et penuria
presentis Palatii circa pannos darazza et circa gausape seu tovaglias
et argentum seu vasa argentea, et quod multum condecens esset in hujus
modi tali Palatio_, voted two thousand golden florins for refurnishing
the palace, and also commissioned Neri di Bicci to paint and gild
the tabernacle in which the celebrated _Pandects_ of Justinian were
kept. Neri thus describes his work: “I undertook to paint and gild for
fiorini 56 a tabernacle of wood made according to ancient fashion, at
each side were columns, above was an architrave, a frieze, a cornice
and a lunette, and below the base was all of fine gold. In the picture
of the said tabernacle I painted Moses and the four animals of the
Evangelists, and in the lunette S. John the Baptist; round Moses and
the animals I put golden lilies, and inside was the picture, which is
to be the front of the cupboard where the _Pandects_, and another book
which came from Constantinople, and certain other most rare things of
the Florentine people, are kept, and it is to stand in the Hall of
Audience of the Signori.”
In 1441 the old palace was soiled by the blood of Baldaccio d’Anghiari,
a gallant soldier in the service of the Republic, and an intimate
friend of Neri Capponi. Therefore Cosimo de’ Medici and all his party
hated him, and according to Machiavelli, decided to do away with a man
whom it was dangerous to keep, and still more dangerous to dismiss.
The Gonfalonier of Justice at that moment was Bartolomeo Orlandini,
a man devoted to Cosimo with a personal grudge against Baldaccio, who
had openly accused him of rank cowardice at Marradi, where he fled
and left the pass open and undefended. One of the principal actors in
this cold-blooded murder, Francesco di Tommaso Giovanni, describes
the scene in his diary much as a sportsman would tell how he shot a
stag. “On Tuesday evening, the 5th September, being in the audience
chamber after supper, all of us save Cante (Compagni, one of the
Priors), with cautious words agreed to do whatever appeared good to
the Gonfalonier; the allusions to Baldaccio were manifest, but his
name was not mentioned because during the day many of us had talked of
doing a thing, and of him, in such manner that we all understood. So on
Wednesday the 6th, having called the cavalier and eight soldiers of the
Captain of Florence, and shut them into my room, the Gonfalonier sent
for the said Baldaccio, who was in the Piazza, and he came in about an
hour’s time. He and the Gonfalonier being alone in the passage between
the rooms, we caused the soldiers to come into the small chamber, and
I stood at the end of the passage pretending to read letters. When the
Gonfalonier made me a sign I signalled to the soldiers, who instantly
threw him down and bound him as I had commanded. Now Baldaccio, in
the attempt to defend himself and to attack the Gonfalonier, wounded
one of the men; the others, to save themselves, wounded him, and then
by order of the Gonfalonier threw him into the Captain’s courtyard
below, and struck off his head on the doorstep. The people showed their
satisfaction and praised the deed; but afterwards, as it had displeased
some, they blamed it; however, in the end it was acknowledged to have
been an excellent thing.” One of the people who was “displeased” was
Pope Eugenius IV., who had taken Baldaccio into his service the day
before he was murdered, and who left Florence in an angry mood.
In 1452, when the members of all the major and minor Guilds were
admitted to sit in the great council, the Hall, or Sala de’ Dugento,
was declared to be too small, but seventeen years passed without any
decision being taken. It was then determined to use certain moneys “the
Jew Isahac owes to the Monte, or public pawnshop, for rebuilding the
Council Hall in the Palace of our Magnificent Signori.” This second
decision also came to nought, as the money of Isahac went to rebuild
the walls and castle of Castrocaro. At last, in 1472, Giuliano di Nardo
da Majano and Francesco di Giovanni, _alias_ Francione, were charged
to do the work. Vasari attributes it to Benedetto da Majano, and in
his life of that artist gives a long description of how he rebuilt the
Sala de’ Dugento, and made two rooms above it; one called the Clock
Room, because in it was a clock made by that excellent mechanician
Lorenzo della Volpaia, the other the Audience Hall, with the triumph
of Camillus painted by Salviati, while Domenico and Giuliano, brothers
of Benedetto, made the ceilings. The marble door was sculptured by
Benedetto himself, who “made a figure of Justice seated, with the
sphere of the world in one hand and a sword in the other, and round the
arch is written, _Diligete justitiam qui judicatis terram_.” The outer
door of the Audience Hall was, according to tradition, a beautiful
work. But nothing remains of Benedetto’s boys holding up festoons of
flowers. Only the statue of the youthful S. John, which stood in the
centre, is now in the National Museum in the Bargello. Vasari also
attributes to Benedetto the wonderful intarsia doors, with Dante on
one side and Petrarch on the other; but the archives show them to be
the work of his brother Giuliano, and of Francione. The old Palazzo
de’ Signori was decorated in a strange and horrible manner in 1478,
when, in consequence of the Pazzi conspiracy, an Archbishop and several
nobles, with priests, men-at-arms and serving-men, were hung round the
outside from the columns of the windows. Filippo Strozzi was in the
cathedral when the attempt to murder the Medici brothers was made, and
has left a vivid account of what he saw. “I note a terrible event which
happened in our city of Florence on the 26th April, 1478, a Sunday
morning. The Very Reverend Messer Raffaello da Saona, Cardinal of S.
Giorgio, nephew of Count Girolamo, a youth of about nineteen or twenty,
had been at Montughi for about two months in the house of Messer Jacopo
de’ Pazzi. He had lately received the cardinal’s hat at Pisa, and his
chief adviser was Messer Francesco Salviati the Archbishop of Pisa. He,
with others, instigated Lorenzo de’ Medici to invite him, and he did so
for the said Sunday, and Messer Marino, ambassador of King Ferrando,
Messer Filippo Sagramoro, orator of the Duke of Milan, Messer Niccolò
of Ferrara, and six or seven cavaliers were asked to meet him. The
said Cardinal was in Sta. Maria del Fiore at mass, and at the words
_missa este_, Ser Stefano da Bagnone, secretary of Messer Jacopo de’
Pazzi, and Messer Marco Maffei of Volterra, with some armed followers,
assaulted Lorenzo de’ Medici; while Francesco de’ Pazzi and Bernardo
Bandini fell upon Giuliano, as both were walking round the choir.
Lorenzo saw them, drew his weapon, and jumped into the choir. Passing
in front of the altar, he entered the new sacristy and ordered the door
to be bolted. There he remained until aid came from his house, and he
only had a wound in the neck, which healed in a few days. Giuliano,
assailed by both Francesco de’ Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini, fled into
the choir, and in front of the chapel of the Cross received ten or
twelve such blows that he fell to the ground dead; they also gave two
blows to Francesco Nori, who was beside Giuliano, and killed him. Then
arose a great tumult in the church. Messer Bongianni and the other
cavaliers with whom I was talking were all stupefied; one fled here,
the other there, loud shouts filled the church, and one saw arms in the
hands of the adherents of the Pazzi, who made common cause with them.
The Cardinal remained all alone by the side of the altar until he was
conducted by the priests into the old sacristy, whence he was fetched
away by two of the Eight, with a strong guard, and taken to the Palazzo
de’ Priori. During the time all this was happening, the Archbishop of
Pisa had gone to the Palazzo under pretence of visiting the Signoria,
and hearing the tumult he tried to seize the palace. With him were
Jacopo his brother, Jacopo di Jacopo Salviati, Jacopo di Messer Poggio,
Perugini and others. The Signori and their guards defended themselves
and rang the great bell to call the people to arms, and the citizens
rushed into the Piazza and forced open the door of the palace, which
had been bolted on the inside, and took them all. The instigators of
all this are said to have been Francesco de’ Pazzi and the Archbishop
of Pisa, together with Count Girolamo, the Pope’s nephew, and Messer
Jacopo de’ Pazzi. The latter was in Sta. Maria del Fiori in the morning
with armed followers, and as soon as the deed was done he returned
home, and with some of his nephews and friends went into the Piazza
shouting ‘Liberty.’ When he came to the door of the palace he was
warned by those on the battlements to withdraw, or stones would be
hurled on him. Seeing that the palace had not been taken, he returned
straight to his house, and with his followers mounted on horseback rode
to the gate of Sta. Croce. Taking the keys from the citizen who kept
them, he opened the gate and set his people as guards, and then again
returned to his house, where he remained for about two hours. Finding
the city was quiet, and that all the armed _popolani_ were either at
Lorenzo’s house or in the Piazza, he decided to depart, and left by
that same gate with nigh two hundred men. On the same day the Signoria
hung from the windows of the palace the Archbishop of Pisa, Jacopo
di Messer Poggio, and others of good birth, such as Jacopo, Jacopo
Salviati, and several of his friends, and the servants of the Cardinal,
who had gone with him to the palace. They also hung Francesco
d’Antonio de’ Pazzi, who was taken in his own house. On Tuesday Messere
Jacopo and Renato de’ Pazzi were hung, and Ferugini and many others
were killed in the palace at the foot of the staircase. About eighty
were killed either in the Palazzo or in the Palazzo del Podestà....”
A great name is associated with this old Florentine palace--that of
Savonarola. When in July, 1495, he preached a farewell sermon in the
Duomo, in the presence of the Signoria and all the magistrates, he
said: “I have preached to you four things, the fear of God, peace, the
common weal, and the reform of Government, that is to say, the Great
Council.... Accelerate the construction of the Hall of Council by every
means in your power; take, if necessary, the workmen from the Duomo,
for their labour will thus be more acceptable to God. Insist on this
Council, ameliorate it, correct it and let it be the one hope, the
one power of the people.” He preached to willing ears, for Francesco
di Domenico, carpenter, and Simone del Pollaiuolo, had already been
chosen by the _Operai_ of the Palazzo as master-builders. Vasari, who
afterwards re-arranged the great Sala de’ Cinquecento as we now see
it, states that it having been determined “according to the desire of
Fra Jeronimo Savonarola, then a famous preacher, to build the great
Hall of Council in the Palazzo della Signoria of Florence, counsel
was taken of Lionardo da Vinci, of Michelagnolo Buonarroti, though he
was but a youth, of Giuliano da San Gallo, of Bacio d’Agnolo and of
Simone del Pollaiuolo, surnamed Cronaca, a great friend and follower
of Savonarola. After much dispute they collectively ordered the hall
should be built as it remained until almost entirely remodelled in our
day. The work was entrusted to Cronaca as a competent man, and moreover
a friend of the said Fra Jeronimo; he did it with great celerity and
diligence, showing especial cleverness in building the roof, for the
edifice was immense....” After describing how Cronaca overcame all
the difficulties, and praising him, Vasari condemns the hall as being
“without light, and in comparison with its great length and breadth,
dwarfed, and far too low, in short it is all out of proportion.” At
first the work went slowly, but after Savonarola’s return from Rome,
Cronaca displayed such zeal and energy that the hall was nearly
finished early in 1496; indeed the building made such extraordinary
progress that it was commonly said that angels had helped him.
The following year the Signori looked down from the windows of the old
palace upon the bonfires, in the Piazza, of “vanities and obscenities,”
as playing cards, masks and dominoes, drawings, pictures, illustrated
books and the like, were called by the partisans of Savonarola, and
on the 20th August he preached before the magistrates and principal
citizens in the great hall. But a few years later the friar was a
prisoner in the old palace, confined in the small, dark Alberghettino
where Cosimo de’ Medici had passed so many anxious weeks. On the
evening of Sunday, the 8th April, 1498, he was arrested by order of
the Signoria, and with his faithful Fra Domenico passed through the
surging mob which once hung upon his words and now insulted, taunted
and even struck him. Fra Silvestro had hidden himself when the convent
was attacked and was only taken prisoner next day. In the great hall,
built but a few years before by Savonarola’s advice, a few lines of the
accusations against him were read in his absence, the chancellor of the
“Otto” declaring to the people that he had refused to appear because he
was afraid of being stoned. On the 22nd May the Apostolic Commissaries
decided the fate of Fra Girolamo and his followers. Only one man,
Agnolo Niccolini, raised a warning voice. “This man,” he exclaimed,
“could not only give faith anew to the world, in case it died out, but
also science. Keep him in prison if you will; but let him live and
give him leave to write, so that the world may not lose the fruits of
his genius.”
In the great hall the three friars met once more after forty days of
rigorous imprisonment and horrible torture, and next morning Savonarola
was allowed to say mass in the chapel and to communicate himself and
his two companions before going to the stake. In the eloquent pages of
Pasquale Villari’s _Life of Savonarola_ the reader has this episode,
but it must be added that the “pious women” mentioned by Luca Landucci
in his Diary still have many imitators, for every year in the Piazza
della Signoria there is a _fiorita_ on the 23rd May in memory of the
great friar; rose leaves are scattered, and garlands are laid, upon the
place of his martyrdom, and many a poor woman kneels in prayer.
When Michelangelo’s statue of David was finished the question arose
where to place it. Giuliano da San Gallo declared that “seeing the
imperfections in the marble, being friable and corroded, and having
been much rained upon, I do not think that it will be durable; it
should therefore be put under the Loggia de’ Signori in the middle arch
of the said Loggia, or under the centre of the vaulted roof so that
one may walk round it; or on one side in the centre of the wall with a
black niche behind it in the shape of a hood; for if it is exposed to
the rain it will suffer. It ought to be covered.” Others, like Maestro
Francesco, herald of the Signoria, wanted the statue to be in the
open. “I have turned over in my mind,” he writes, “what my judgment
suggests to me. There are two places where such a statue will do well;
the first is where stands the Judith; the second is in the centre of
the courtyard of the palace, in the place of the first David;[109] for
the Judith is a deadly emblem and not a good thing, as we have the X
for our emblem and the Lily. It is not fitting that the woman should
kill the man; also she was set up under an evil constellation, for
ever since we have gone from bad to worse and have lost Pisa. Then
the David in the courtyard is not a perfect figure because his leg
lacks symmetry. Therefore I advise putting the statue in one of these
two places, but by preference where stands the Judith.” Michelangelo
was of the same opinion, so his Giant, as the people called it, was
set up on the ringhiera by the entrance door of the Palazzo Vecchio,
and Donatello’s statue was moved to the arch of the Loggia facing the
Piazza, where now stands the Rape of the Sabines. The Judith had been
placed on the ringhiera in 1494 when Piero de’ Medici was driven out of
Florence and his possessions, amongst them the statue, confiscated, not
so much as an ornament as to warn the people to maintain their liberty
and to kill tyrants, as is proved by the inscription on the pediment:
_Exemplum Sal. Pub. Cives posuere. MCCCCXCV._
During the riots which ended in the Medici being again exiled, a large
stone fell from the balustrade of the alur of the palace upon an arm of
Michelangelo’s statue and broke it into three pieces. For several days
the fragments lay on the pavement, until two lads, Giorgio Vasari and
Francesco Salviati, picked them up and took them to Salviati’s father,
who sixteen years afterwards gave them to the Duke Cosimo I. In a
letter from a certain Riccio, of 7th November, 1543, we find that “the
people pass their time in watching the building of a scaffolding round
the giant David. It is put up for the mending of his poor arm, but
many think that his face is to be washed.” In 1875 the statue, which
showed signs of deterioration was, after much consideration, removed
to the Gallery of the _Belle Arte_, where it now is. Michelangelo was
to have made a companion giant for the other side of the door of the
Palazzo Vecchio--Hercules slaying Cacus; but Clement VII. was persuaded
to give the block of marble to Baccio Bandinelli, with what result we
see at the present day. That madcap, egoistical, highly-gifted artist,
Benvenuto Cellini, thus described the statue to Duke Cosimo in the
presence of Bandinelli, to whom he said: “You must know that it pains
me to point out the faults of your statue; I shall not, however, utter
my own sentiments, but shall recapitulate what our most virtuous school
of Florence says about it.... Well then, this virtuous school says
that if one were to shave the hair of your Hercules, there would not
be skull enough left to hold his brain; it says that it is impossible
to distinguish whether his features are those of a man or of something
between a lion and an ox; the face too is turned away from the action
of the figure, and is so badly set upon the neck, with such poverty of
art and so ill a grace, that nothing worse was ever seen; his sprawling
shoulders are like two pommels of an ass’s pack-saddle; his breasts
and all the muscles of the body are not portrayed from a man, but from
a big sack full of melons set upright against a wall. The lions seem
to be modelled from a bag of lanky pumpkins; nobody can tell how his
two legs are attached to that vile trunk; it is impossible to say on
which leg he stands, or which he uses to exert his strength; nor does
he seem to be resting upon both, as sculptors who know something of
their art have occasionally set the figure. It is obvious that the body
is leaning forward more than one-third of a cubit, which alone is the
greatest and most insupportable fault committed by vulgar commonplace
pretenders. Concerning the arms, they say that these are both stretched
out without one touch of grace or one real spark of artistic talent
just as if you had never seen a naked model. Again, the right leg
of Hercules and that of Cacus have got one mass of flesh between
them, so that if they were to be separated, not only one of them,
but both together, would be left without a calf at the point where
they are touching. They say, too, that Hercules has one of his feet
underground, while the other seems to be resting on hot coals.”[110] On
either side, nearer the door, were placed two terminal statues, which
are still there; one by Bandinelli is intended to represent the power
and magnanimity of Tuscany, the other, a woman about to change into a
laurel, by Vincenzio de’ Rossi, the grace and intellect Tuscany has
shown in the arts. They are commonly called Philomen and Baucis.
When Piero Soderini was elected Gonfalonier for life in 1502, Landucci
notes in his Diary, “For the first time the wife of the Gonfalonier,
by name Madonna Argentina, went to live in the Palazzo de’ Signori.
It seemed odd indeed to see women abiding in the palace.” Large sums
were spent in decorations, and Soderini determined that Leonardo
da Vinci should paint the great Hall of Council. It seems certain
that Leonardo devoted two years to this work, the beauty of which is
minutely described by Vasari, who says he abandoned it because having
attempted to paint on the wall in oils the colours ran. Michelangelo
was then deputed to paint one side of the hall, and his cartoon excited
extraordinary enthusiasm and admiration in all who beheld it. Vasari
accuses Baccio Bandinelli of tearing the magnificent drawing to pieces
during the riots of 1512, when the Gonfalonier Soderini was deposed and
the Medici returned to power.
Giuliano de’ Medici entered Florence first, he dismounted at the
Albizzi palace, as the family palace in the Via Larga had been sacked
when the Medici were driven out. There he waited until joined by the
Cardinal Giovanni, when they went to the Palazzo de’ Signori and
established themselves there as masters. The great bell was rung to
summon the people to a parliament, and at sundown on the 16th September
the Signoria assembled on the ringhiera and read the new laws to
the people. Landucci notes in his Diary that “on the 2nd October the
Medici caused their arms to be re-painted on their palace, on the
Annunziata and in many other places, they also caused the effigy of the
Gonfalonier to be removed out of the S.S. Annunziata.[111]
Not content with abolishing the Great Council and the Ten of Balìa, and
nominating their own people to all important posts, the Cardinal and
Giuliano de’ Medici installed a strong guard of Spanish soldiers in the
old palace, and to lodge them the noble hall of the Five Hundred was
ruined. “At this time it pleased the new government,” writes Landucci,
“to destroy the woodwork of the hall of the Great Council, besides many
other beautiful things, which had been made at enormous outlay. Rooms
were built for the soldiers, and a new entrance was made, which things
were lamented by all Florence; not the change of government, but the
loss of that beautiful woodwork which had cost so much. It had been a
great glory and honour for the city to have such a splendid residence.
When ambassadors came to visit the Signoria all who entered were
astounded when they saw such a magnificent palace and such a multitude
of citizens in council.” It must however be said that a hoarding was
erected in front of the painting by Leonardo da Vinci when the hall
was turned into barracks, so that it might not be spoiled. Seventeen
years later the Medici were again driven out, and again there was a
“tumult” in the Palazzo de’ Signori. In a very long letter[112] from
that most excellent of men old Jacopo Nardi to Benedetto Varchi, who
was writing his famous history, he describes the scenes at which he, as
Gonfalonier of one of the quarters of the town, assisted. After stating
the difficulty he had to reach the palace, he goes on: “I found a great
multitude in council, without order or head, uncertain what to demand
or what to desire, so that they did nought but shout, etc., as though
that constituted a victory. Meanwhile the Signori were conducted,
almost by force, to their usual seats, _jam redacti in ordinem_,
with no more reverence than if they had been private persons. The
Gonfalonier did not lose his head, but asked in a loud voice what they
wanted, saying we had met to carry out their wishes, if they expressed
them quietly and without violence. But the Compagnie, who were always
arriving and entering the Council Hall, did not see what was being
done and by their shouts increased the tumult; so that the Signori
were not heard, nor the Gonfalonier, who declared that he was ready to
propose anything, etc., and above their heads were a hundred swords and
halberds. I advanced with due obeisance to the Signoria and addressed
the young men, repeating in a loud voice what the Gonfalonier had
proposed for their satisfaction, reproving those I knew and entreating
those who were unknown to me. So at last some resolutions were put and
carried with shouts by those around, one by one as they were convinced,
and they were inscribed by Giuliano da Ripa, who was brought up almost
by sheer force, for no other notary could be found in the palace.
The resolutions carried were: that all those who had been condemned,
exiled, banished (to other towns or to their villas), or imprisoned
for political offences, should be pardoned and liberated; that the
government should be what it was in the time of Piero Soderini, before
1512; that the great bell should again be rung for parliaments; and
that the exile of the Medici be proclaimed to the sound of trumpets.
I do not recollect the order in which these were voted on account of
the confusion and the violence of certain youths, which was so great
that, whilst I was in front of the Signoria, a blow was aimed at the
Gonfalonier; the flat of the sword hit him on the shoulder near the
neck, but not severely, and I put my handkerchief to his neck, fearing
it would bleed.”
After the departure of the Cardinal of Cortona with Ippolito and
Alessandro de’ Medici the great hall of the Five Hundred was cleared
of the barracks erected for the Spanish soldiers and restored to its
proper use. Niccolò Capponi, head of the _ottimati_ party, was elected
Gonfalonier of Justice and began to treat with the Pope to gain time,
which incensed the _popolani_, or popular party, who were already angry
because he showed such reverence for the memory of Savonarola. “At this
time,” writes Varchi, “the Gonfalonier, either persuaded by the friars
of S. Marco, with whom he consorted, or more probably to gain the party
of the friars, which was considerable and of no small reputation,
favoured and seconded as much as he could all that Fra Girolamo had
instituted, so that he was blamed and scoffed at by many. Amongst other
things he repeated almost word for word a sermon of the friar’s, in
which he first predicted much evil, and afterwards much good, to the
city of Florence, and at the end he threw himself on his knees and
crying out _misericordia_ in a loud voice, persuaded the whole council
to repeat _misericordia_. Not content with this he proposed in the
Great Council that Christ should be accepted as the especial King of
Florence. There were twenty dissentients, and thinking that no one
would ever obliterate it, Capponi had the following inscription placed
above the door of the palace--
Y.H.S.
CHRISTO REGI SUO DOMINO DOMINANTUM DEO SUMMO OPTMAX
LIBERATORI MARIAEQUE VIRGINI REGINAE DICAVIT.
AN.SAL.M.D.XXVII.S.P.Q.F.
The curious thing is that Segni gives two other different inscriptions
and that none of the three coincide with the one still over the door--