by C. De Melo
Caterina linked her arm through Sabina’s and whispered, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to my brother. He told me the whole story, you know—it made me cry. He was so heartbroken when he discovered you had married and moved to England.”
“If only he had told me the truth about his situation. We would not have wasted so much precious time,” Sabina said, glancing over her shoulder at Massimo.
Caterina followed her gaze. “He didn’t have the courage to tell you. Men are strange creatures.”
“They are, indeed.”
“Massimo has suffered a decade of tremendous guilt and regret.”
“I suppose everything happens in life for a reason. Our experiences make us grow and become more appreciative. Sometimes good things come from bad situations. Had I not married the Englishman, I would not have my daughter—and I would not trade Anne for the world. Ah, there she is now… Anne, come and meet our guests.”
Anne, who was descending the stairs, walked toward her mother and curtsied politely to the guests. Sabina put her arm around her and said, “Ladies, this is my daughter, Anne.”
“Welcome to Florence,” Anne said.
Sabina stroked her daughter’s hair. “Anne, this is Signora Giovanna, Massimo’s mother, and Signorina Caterina, Massimo’s sister. They will be staying with us for a while.”
Caterina said, “What a pretty girl you are! It won’t be long before suitors come knocking on your mother’s door.”
Anne became stone-faced. “I already know who I’m going to marry.”
Caterina clapped her hands in expectation of hearing about some local boy and teased, “Who may that be?”
Anne replied, “Jesus Christ.”
Caterina’s face fell and Signora Giovanna tilted her head to the side. They both looked to Sabina for an explanation when Anne offered none.
“My daughter wishes to become a nun like her Aunt Cecilia,” Sabina explained.
“Ahhh…” both women said in unison.
“A most commendable endeavor for a young woman,” Signora Giovanna said. “You’ll have a guaranteed place in Heaven, my dear.”
Anne smiled at the old woman.
***
Signora Giovanna and Caterina stayed for a month, taking in the wondrous sights of Florence and enjoying the hospitality Sabina generously provided. Prior to their teary-eyed departure, she made them promise to return soon.
Massimo put his arm around Sabina when they were alone and said, “My mother told me I would be a fool not to marry you as soon as possible. She loves you like a daughter, you know.”
Sabina smiled. “Your mother possesses infinite wisdom.”
Sabina invited Anne to accompany her to the market the next day. Massimo and Leo had already left for the Piazza della Signoria, where the local men often congregated to obtain information on current events.
“Why not send Teresa?” Anne inquired.
Sabina motioned to the open window and added, “It’s a lovely day.”
Anne rubbed her temples. “I have a slight headache.”
“Are you feeling all right?” Sabina asked, placing her hand on the girl’s forehead to check for fever.
“I think I strained my eyes…too much reading. Please don’t worry about me, Mother. I’m old enough to stay home with the servants.”
Sabina nodded reluctantly and left the house alone. She walked halfway down the street before the weather turned unexpectedly. Dark clouds gathered and threatened rain, so she decided to return home. As she ascended the stairs she heard strange noises coming from Anne’s room. Slowly, she tiptoed to the door and pushed it open.
Sabina recoiled in shock. “Anne!”
Anne stood in the center of the room stripped to the waist. In her fist was a wicked-looking leather strap. Angry red welts swelled across her back and some of them were bleeding slightly.
“Spiritual purification, Mother,” Anne explained simply. “I don’t expect you to understand.”
Sabina’s eyes filled with tears. “How long has this been going on?”
“Self-flagellation is good for the soul.”
Sabina knew the practice. It was a sick, perverted form of religious fanaticism. She approached her daughter with her hand outstretched to touch the wounds splayed across the delicate white skin, but Anne moved to avoid her mother’s touch. “Why do this to yourself?” she demanded, anger quickly replacing the shock.
“Because I’m a wicked sinner.”
Sabina grabbed her daughter’s shoulders and shook her with force. “Are you mad? What sins have you committed? You’re a mere child!”
“My thoughts are wicked.”
Sabina stared at her daughter with mouth agape.
Anne continued, “This makes me feel pure… cleansed.”
“You are so innocent in the ways of this world, child. You have no idea what sin is and—believe me—you are not guilty of it. You’re so good, Anne, such a good girl...”
Tears ran down Anne’s face as she shook her head. “I’m not good.”
“Why would you say such a thing?”
“I have evil thoughts—so evil that I can’t even confess them in church. This is the only way to cleanse myself!”
“Tell me what you’ve done. Give me an explanation.”
“Father and his new wife…I wish they were both dead.”
Sabina covered her mouth with her hand to keep from sobbing aloud. She reached for her daughter with her free arm and pulled the girl close. Anne threw her arms around her mother’s neck and wept. “Why did you not come to me sooner? Why suffer in silence? You can tell me anything, Anne.”
“How can you confess such wicked thoughts to another person?”
“It’s normal for you to be angry with your father,” Sabina reasoned gently. “I’m angry with him, too.”
“Do you wish death upon him?”
“I bear him no ill will. You should do the same for the sake of your own sanity. Promise me that you’ll never do this to yourself again.” When Anne remained silent, Sabina urged, “Promise me, Anne.”
“I promise I’ll try.”
Sabina wrote to Cecilia at once and waited anxiously for a reply. It came several days later:
Dearest Sabina,
I’m replying to your letter immediately due to the urgency of its tone. Do not worry, sister. Anne’s zeal is to be commended, not feared. The young are prone to strong emotions and rebelliousness (as you well know, for you yourself were quite the rebel). Since you are neither devout nor an avid churchgoer, your daughter is merely defying you. If this honest observation offends you, forgive me. Perhaps my niece should visit our convent more often. Our abbess disapproves of violent carnal punishments, claiming that such extreme devotion is an affront to our Lord’s sacrifice. Take heart and be patient. This phase, like all youthful phases, will pass and Anne will mature into a fine Christian woman. You are always in my prayers.
Your loving sister, Cecilia
Cecilia’s letter did little to assuage Sabina’s concerns, but she applied her sister’s advice to be patient. Anne was indeed young and had obviously inherited her mother’s passionate and somewhat volatile nature. Hopefully, her daughter’s eventual maturity would lead to spiritual balance.
Aside from the constant preoccupation with her daughter, Sabina was immersed in happiness now that Massimo was by her side. Since Anne approved of the match, nothing prevented the loving couple from legalizing their union. They were married in a quiet, private ceremony.
Intent on making up for lost time, Sabina and Massimo became so absorbed with each other they were almost oblivious to what was taking place around them. Florence was steadily going downhill after Lorenzo’s death and Piero was making a complete mess.
The trouble first started when King Charles VIII and his army invaded the Italian continent with the intention of conquering the Kingdom of Naples. Piero failed to rally enough soldiers to defend the fortress of Sarzana, so it fell into the hands of the
French. After that military disaster, Piero managed to dissuade the French monarch from continuing his progress via the Florentine route. The king agreed to not occupy Florence but would occupy other cities, including Pisa. Piero returned to Florence expecting the Florentines to be happy he had saved them from the French. Instead, they labeled him a traitor for striking such an odious bargain.
The consequences of Piero’s negotiations were catastrophic. The Medici were viewed as enemies of the fatherland and banished from the Signoria. Piero and his brothers, Giuliano and Giovanni, were forced to flee in the middle of the night. They carried as much money and precious items with them as they could, abandoning the Palazzo Medici, which was later sacked by an angry mob.
The Florentines were forced to face the problem of King Charles VIII, who was welcomed by Savonarola as a liberator. The king took residence in the former Palazzo Medici and Florence slipped into a state of internal conquest as Savonarola’s power grew. Even after the departure of the French king, the situation within the city did not improve. Savonarola’s control over Florence only worsened matters and his political ascent was now unstoppable.
The Florentines were caught up in a strange penitential fury, driven by Savonarola’s obsession with sin. Wealthy merchants and nobles exchanged fine clothing for plain religious habits, rejecting lavish lifestyles in exchange for a simpler existence devoted to God.
Sabina and Massimo witnessed these events with great dismay. They often longed for the happy days when Il Magnifico ruled the city, but Lorenzo was dead and his Florence was gone forever. They seldom left their home during that dark time, preferring isolation to the insanity taking place in the streets. On the rare occasions when they did venture out, they were careful to wear conservative clothing and little or no adornment. Anne dressed like a nun most of the time.
The Carnival of 1496 inspired what would later be called the Bonfire of the Vanities—a great pyre created in the center of the Piazza della Signoria. The Florentines fed the greedy flames with their fine paintings, rare and expensive books, luxurious clothing, wigs, precious jewelry, cosmetics, and anything else considered to be sinful or worldly in nature. Sabina’s heart ached at the sight of so many exquisite things being consumed by fire. Even Botticelli was seen throwing his own paintings into the flames.
Anne, who insisted on attending the event as a family, turned to her mother and Massimo with glassy eyes and sighed happily. “Florence is finally cleansed of sin.”
Sabina clenched her jaw in anger but said nothing. Massimo shot his wife a look that conveyed his empathy. “Let’s go home,” he said.
Once inside the sanctuary of their home, Sabina sulked in her study.
Massimo stood in the doorway. “Don’t be upset with Anne.”
“The girl is obsessed!”
“Calm yourself, my love. I’m sure this is a phase, like Cecilia said.”
“I usually fell asleep in church; it bored me to tears.” She sighed, shaking her head pensively. “My father forced a marriage upon me because we were poor. Anne will never have to do that. She is my heir, and I want her to be educated and independent. I want to provide her with the things I never had. She’ll marry only if she chooses to do so.”
Massimo sat down beside his wife and took her hand in his own. “That is dangerous talk in these times. Savonarola admonishes women to be submissive toward God and men.”
“Bah! I have challenged our patriarchal society since I was a girl. I never want Anne to feel the confines of male domination.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Is that how you feel about me, too?”
“No, my love. You’re an exception to the rule.”
“I’m glad to hear it. It’s a pleasant evening—far too pleasant for you to be moping about like a child who has just lost her favorite toy.”
“I’ve lost something far more precious than a toy—I’ve lost Anne.”
***
Sabina discovered through Massimo that there were many Florentines who, like them, did not support Savonarola and his teachings. Some of the magistrates in the Signoria were grumbling. Tired of the constant criticisms and of being blamed for the city’s decline, an anti-Savonarolan party was formed called the Arrabbiati.
Pope Alexander VI was also growing very weary of Savonarola’s daily sermons and moralizing. When the friar went as far as questioning papal authority and openly criticizing Rome, the pope was forced to take drastic measures. At the end of 1497, the Signoria received a request to turn Savonarola over to the papal justice, but no action was taken until the following year. Having lost most of his support in Florence and abroad, Savonarola was arrested, imprisoned, and condemned to die. On May 23, 1498, he was burned at the stake in the Piazza della Signoria—the same place where the Bonfire of the Vanities took place.
Anne insisted on being present for the execution so she could pray for Savonarola’s soul. Sabina could not bring herself to go, but she reluctantly allowed her daughter to attend in the company of Massimo and a pair of armed guards. Anne was teary-eyed for days afterward, cursing papal corruption, and the injustice of Savonarola’s death.
“How could God allow the pope to do such a thing? Savonarola was a true servant,” Anne cried.
“Be careful, daughter,” Sabina advised. “Never say such things aloud in the presence of others.”
Anne stared at her mother before locking herself inside her bedchamber.
Two days after Savonarola’s execution, Sabina received news of Camelia’s sudden death. She was deeply saddened by this, and mourned the loss of her dearest friend.
In December of the following year, Anne made an announcement to Sabina and Massimo. They were in the middle of eating the fine meal Sabina had arranged in celebration of her daughter’s eighteenth birthday, when Anne abruptly stood from her chair.
“There’s something I must tell you,” Anne said. “I plan to take my vow as a novice in the Convento di Santa Lucia, where I will devote my life to God.”
There was nothing Sabina could say or do to dissuade her daughter from her godly calling. Anne left for Lucca the following month.
As Florence continued to suffer from internal strife, its former prestige dwindled. Once the center of European culture and trade, it lost much of its importance with the discovery of the New World. Spain and Portugal were becoming increasingly rich and powerful thanks to colonization, the spice trade, and other maritime exploits.
In the years following Savonarola’s and Camelia’s deaths, Piero de’ Medici attempted to recapture Florence three times and failed miserably. He then tried to curry favor with King Charles VIII by joining forces with him to conquer Naples. In the end, Piero died an inglorious death. While transporting artillery in 1503, his ship encountered a storm and the vessel was shipwrecked. Piero simply vanished among the waves.
Massimo’s mother passed away the same year. Caterina, who had been courting a successful spice merchant named Carlo Castagno, was married as soon as her period of mourning was over. She became pregnant almost immediately. Her husband’s trade eventually led him to Tuscany, where there was an abundance of rich noble clients. They purchased a large villa in the Mugello, which was located in the province of Lucca, high in the hills and far from the city center. Massimo was happy that his sister would now be closer to Florence and he looked forward to becoming an uncle.
The years continued to pass quickly, and Sabina sighed in resignation every time she found a new gray hair or a wrinkle on her face. She aged gracefully and kept her slim figure. As for Massimo, he remained a good and loyal husband. They visited Lucca once a month to see Anne, who seemed happy and fulfilled in her role as nun. The thought of life without grandchildren was grim, and Sabina often wondered why God had blessed her with only one child.
In the year 1504 something very special happened in Florence. On a sunny June day, Sabina and Massimo watched the painstaking installation of a massive sculpture at the entrance of the Palazzo della Signoria. Carved from white Carrara marbl
e, the stunning male figure stood over fourteen feet tall in a classic, contraposto stance. To the shock of everyone present, it was completely nude.
“It’s supposed to be David, you say?” Sabina asked of Massimo, unable to tear her eyes away from the sublime male form. “He looks more like Adonis.”
“See the weight of the stone within his right hand?” He waited for Sabina to nod then pointed to the figure’s left hand and said, “David is holding a sling that falls down his back.”
“I see.”
Massimo studied the statue while rubbing his chin. “Botticelli thinks the statue should be closer to the cathedral. Do you agree?”
“I don’t know.”
Sabina caught sight of Michelangelo di Lodovico Buonarroti Simoni across the piazza. The well-known artist and sculptor was commonly known as “Michelangelo” among the Florentines. She remembered him as a clever and extremely talented boy—one of the many protégés in Lorenzo de’ Medici’s court. He was now a man in his late twenties, and Sabina suddenly felt old.
Massimo followed his wife’s gaze. “He’s being hailed as a genius for this piece, you know.”
“I can see why. This statue will certainly restore a bit of glory to our city.” Sabina noticed that David’s right leg was attached to a tree stump and inquired, “Is it true that the marble was defective and another artist was commissioned to do the work but he abandoned the project?”
Massimo nodded. “The stone was full of striations and nobody knew what to do with it.” He chuckled. “Leonardo da Vinci is envious of the praise being heaped upon Michelangelo, whom he refers to as nothing more than an ‘arrogant, young upstart.’ ”
“Michelangelo was the only one who succeeded in freeing the figure from within the stone’s depths; I believe that merits a bit of arrogance.”
“Especially since he only started the project three years ago. Leonardo advised placing the statue beneath the roof of the Loggia dei Lanzi.”
Sabina shook her head and laughed. “Oh, how absurd!” She paused. “I think I like David there, in front of the Palazzo della Signoria. He’s heroic; a fine example of the weak conquering the mighty.”