Seeds of Decline

by Edward Charles

  He nodded, accepting what she said, although he no longer thought it applied to her. He had spent an afternoon and evening alone reading. Re-reading to be precise. A book lent to him by Malagonelle, Lucrezia’s own The Life of Tobias, in Terza Rima, in which she clearly excelled. Her use of the form was both skilful and deeply religious. Anyone who read her work soon knew that amoral was not a word that should be applied to her. But her son, and his brigata? Well, that was a different matter. And perhaps in that juxtaposition lay the problem.

  ‘Do you wish to talk in the house? In the room upstairs?’

  She shook her head. ‘If it pleases you, I should prefer to walk down by the river, to the place where the flat rock protrudes. The flowing water will sooth my headache and the sound will …’ She looked around her as she said it.

  He read her expression in an instant. ‘Provide privacy?’ Even now he could sense she was uncomfortable speaking in this manner so close to the buildings. The thought rather pleased him, because it suggested that she was intending to tell him some uncomfortable truth, a truth that she had not previously shared with her staff at the bagno.

  For the first time that day, she smiled. ‘Quite so.’

  It was a short walk, down a narrow sandy path with occasional rock steps, herbs and succulents growing on both sides amongst the damp rocks, the sound of the river beckoning them onward. The place she had chosen was sheltered and a dappled light filtered through the trees. Dragonflies hovered around the pools at the riverside and a dipper slid in and out of the water, feeding busily.

  ‘I was re-reading your Life of Tobias yesterday. That is not, if I may say so, the work of an amoral woman. Let me make it clear that any moral observations I may make or may already have made do not apply to you, Madonna. It is your son and the brigata, his entourage of followers, that I may choose to take issue with.’

  She spread the blanket she had brought with her on the rock and sat. ‘It is kind of you to make an exception in my case, but I still believe you are wrong.’

  She made herself comfortable, perhaps gathering her thoughts at the same time. ‘When first we met, you said you wanted to understand how Florence works, what lies beneath the skin of the society you observe and wish to preach to. I would remind you of that request and suggest that you have not only not yet learned how to understand us, but in your relative youth and inexperience, you have jumped too early to too many conclusions, conclusions that are, to my mind, misguided and false.’

  He found a suitable rock and sat facing her. His instinct was to argue with her but he resisted the temptation. To do so would prove the very point she was making. He remembered that not only had she been educated in formal rhetoric but had also learned the slippery negotiations of the marketplace. Now was not the time to argue. Now it was better to sit and absorb.

  ‘You are, I think, a strong-willed young man, strongly influenced by the things that happened to you when you were younger, and I suspect that your whole view of the world has become distorted by those experiences. You think you know best and you wish – indeed you plan – to judge others, to be the guardian of their morals and to preach, not only to them but, I believe, down to them.’

  He opened his mouth and closed it again. Let her speak. I know what I know.

  ‘But beware you do not fall flat on your face. The Florentines are a worldly lot. Sharp and cynical. They are not great respecters of people, especially of foreigners, and you will have to argue your case well before they give you even a half-fair hearing. And to convince them you will not only need evidence but sufficient knowledge of our society to be able to interpret that evidence correctly.’

  Something had changed. Her voice today was not raised. Her tone today was not hectoring. Today she was speaking with the sort of calm, quiet confidence that made even Savonarola listen.

  ‘I am going to give you an example. An example of accusations, of evidence and of the need to interpret that evidence with what I might call local understanding.’ He nodded. Listening. ‘For the last one hundred years there has been a continuous disagreement between the populace and the educated classes about the battle against crime and, in particular, the fight against the sin of sodomy. The problem is that the common people are too easily swayed by simplistic arguments and sometimes, in their naïve exuberance, they call for harsh laws that, if passed, might easily tear our society apart.

  ‘Quite regularly, the Council of the Popolo have called for a new law, making the act of sodomy punishable by castration, or exile, or death. Yet time and again the Council of the Commune, whilst agreeing with their intentions, have given quite different powers to the signoria and the esecutore.

  ‘Throughout the city of Florence, we have drums, known as tamburi, set beside the roads here and there. They have slots in them, we call them buchi della verita – holes of truth – in which citizens are encouraged to make reports to the authorities about any wrongdoing they discover.

  ‘Let me tell you from the beginning that nine out of ten of these accusations are either for tax evasion, adultery, or sodomy; all rightly considered serious offences in a family-based republic. But they are also very easy accusations to make, and exasperatingly difficult to disprove.

  ‘Five years ago, an anonymous accusation was posted in the tambura in Vacchereccia, a narrow street leading westward from the corner of the Piazza della Signoria, and opposite the Palazzo Vecchio.’

  BARGELLO, FLORENCE

  Tuesday 9th April 1476

  The murmuring in the court stills as the judge rises. ‘Read the accusation.’

  The clerk now rises in turn and holds up the piece of paper:

  To the Officers of the Signoria: I hereby testify that Jacopo Saltarelli, the brother of Giovanni Saltarelli, lives with him at the goldsmith’s shop in Vacchereccia, directly opposite the buco. He dresses in black, and is seventeen years old or thereabouts.

  This Jacopo pursues many immoral activities and consents to satisfy those persons who request such sinful things from him. And in this manner he has performed many things, that is, he has provided such services to many dozens of persons of whom I have good information and at the present time, I name some of them. These men have sodomized the said Jacopo and so I will swear.

  They are:

  Bartolomeo di Pasquino, goldsmith, living in the Vacchereccia;

  Lionardo di Ser Piero da Vinci, living with Andrea del Verrocchio;

  Baccino the doublet-maker, living near Orsanmichele, in that street with the two large wool-shearers’ shops leading down to the loggia of the Cierchi; he has opened a new doublet shop;

  Lionardo Tornabuoni, alias “Il Teri”, dressed in black.

  ‘There is, as always, no signature.’

  The clerk sits and all eyes turn to the five accused, who are standing in the dock looking embarrassed and not a little frightened.

  The judge looks at them with a jaundiced eye. ‘You are Jacopo Saltarelli, the brother of Giovanni Saltarelli, who lives at the goldsmith’s shop in Vacchereccia; Bartolomeo di Pasquino, goldsmith, living in the Vacchereccia; Leonardo di Ser Piero da Vinci, living with Andrea del Verrocchio; Baccino the doublet-maker, living near Orsanmichele; and Lionardo Tornabuoni, also known as Il Teri?’

  The five answer to their names.

  ‘You are accused of the crime of sodomy with Jacopo Saltarelli, the brother of Giovanni Saltarelli, and of procuring the said Jacopo Saltarelli for purposes of sexual acts with others, as yet unnamed. How plead you?’

  The five reply in ragged unison. ‘Not guilty your honour.’

  ‘This court is adjourned until Friday 7th June in order that depositions can be made, witnesses summoned and their statements taken. Until that date you will not leave the city of Florence.’

  ‘The court will rise.’

  Shaking their heads the five disperse with their respective friends and relatives. Lionardo Tornabuoni leaves with his lawyer, who has been appointed by his cousin Lucrezia Tornabuoni de’ Medici.

&nb
sp; Leonardo da Vinci joins his embarrassed father, Ser Piero da Vinci, a well-known notary, who spends most of his working days in and around the law courts, and together they retreat to his office.

  Jacopo Saltarelli, together with his brother Giovanni and Bartolomeo di Pasquino, slip down the side of the Badia Fiorentina and cross the Piazza della Signoria as they make their way home to the Vacchereccia.

  Lucrezia paused to be sure the monk was following her. ‘They were brought to trial on Tuesday 9th April. The indictment was read and the case was immediately adjourned, the five accused being ordered to appear before the court in person, on Friday 7th June. On that day, they appeared, confirmed their names, pleaded not guilty, including Saltarelli, and, it being a Friday afternoon, they were remanded again.’ Again she looked up. Yes he was still listening.

  ‘Now, you might consider such evidence to be compelling, even if I tell you that one of the Leonardos, the one they call Il Teri was my cousin, while the other one, young Leonardo da Vinci, had been living in the Palazzo Medici for the previous two years and studying sculpture and drawing in the academy, which Lorenzo had established in the gardens there. He was well-known to us and well-liked.’ She smiled and wagged her finger. ‘But if you did believe such evidence, you could not have been more wrong.’

  BARGELLO

  Tuesday 11th June 1476

  This time the court room is full. The Florentine crowd loves a sodomy case. It usually involves one or two nobles and some sad victim from amongst the poor. An opportunity to see the upper classes squirm in embarrassment and sometimes fear.

  The penalties seem to vary according to who you are, how well you have bribed the court officials, and how embarrassing your case is to the Signoria of the time. This is a good one. A Tornabuoni and cousin to a Medici wife. And an artist who almost lives at the Palazzo Medici and who is known to be a friend of Lorenzo himself.

  Leonardo da Vinci’s appearance in court is not entirely unexpected. He looks every inch a pretty boy. Today he’s in his favourite rose pink. Hardly a sensible choice if you are accused of sodomy, but everyone has to admit he looks good standing beside Il Teri in his jet black doublet and hose.

  They are well represented. All the top lawyers in town seem to be in this one courtroom today. Lucrezia Tornabuoni’s favourite advocate is riffling through his notes one final time and sharing a couple of words with the two lawyers that Ser Piero da Vinci, the well-known notary, has engaged to defend his son.

  The indictment is read and the statement posted. Then one of the Officers of the Night and Monasteries makes a little speech about Jacopo Saltarelli.

  ‘According to information received,’ he says, ‘Jacopo was occasionally engaged as a model for the artists at the bottega of Andrea del Verrocchio in the Via de Agnolo, a street in the Parish of San Ambrogio, where Leonardo da Vinci also lived and worked. It was there that the offences are believed to have taken place.’

  Glances around the court from the crowd. It’s a pretty weak start. Haven’t they got eye witnesses, people who happened to be looking through the window while those inside were… In the best cases you get lurid descriptions, bare arses, exposed cocks, all seen ‘by accident’ by someone ‘just passing by’. But today seems a bit tame.

  It doesn’t improve and the crowd starts to grow restless. The officer supports his accusation by saying the Via de Agnolo and the whole of that part of the Gonfalon of Chiavi has a bad reputation with the officers and that Verrocchio, in particular, is believed to have an unnatural relationship with a number of his apprentices. Well, everyone in Florence knows that, but the officer is useless. He gives no evidence and has no witnesses, and the court and the audience soon dismiss his words as self-serving innuendo. As he leaves the witness stand there are hisses and boos from the back of the crowd.

  Then they call Saltarelli himself. This is better, the crowd start to whistle. He is a very pretty young boy and dressed remarkably smartly for a mere goldsmith. He admits he is a goldsmith and that he works in that capacity in the Vacchereccia, in the Gonfalon Carro. He also admits that from time to time he works as a model for Verrocchio and that Leonardo and the other apprentices there ‘had drawn him naked and in many classical poses’.

  At this point someone at the back of the crowd shouts ‘give us a pose then, bend over’ and the judge has to call for silence. It’s all getting a bit out of hand.

  But now some new names are being dragged into the story, names of people not accused but who cares? The more the merrier. He has also, he admits, posed as a model for Botticelli and for Antonio del Pollaiuolo. This brings knowing winks and grins from the crowd. Everyone knows what Botticelli’s like and Pollaiuolo’s Battle of Nude Men is still talked about in terms that are hardly artistic. But Saltarelli insists that nothing improper has taken place with any of them and without any evidence to support the accusations he is soon dismissed.

  Leonardo da Vinci is called next. He looks terrified. From her discreet seat at the back of the courthouse, Lucrezia sighs. Leonardo! Use your brains. He has hardly helped his cause. He looks as pretty as Simonetta Vespucci, with carefully-cut shoulder-length blonde hair, a rose-pink tunic, jasper rings on his fingers and soft boots of best Cordoba leather. Lucrezia looks round, gauging the reaction of the crowd. It often influences the judges. She sees one or two people in the audience nudge each other and point. ‘He’s obviously one of those,’ she hears one man say to another. ‘How else could he afford such clothes? Sells his arse, like the one in black, no doubt about it.’

  She turns to her notary, who is acting as moral support. ‘He’s wrong. It’s another example of people jumping to conclusions. I know where Leonardo had that money from, from selling drawings of Ginevra to Ambassador Bembo.’ She sighs again. ‘It’s all above-board, and obviously so, if only you know the people.’

  Once he starts answering questions, Leonardo improves. His voice is quiet but confident, rather refined in this raucous environment and he soon swings the mood of the crowd onto his side. He doesn’t try to be clever or play at moral indignation. He simply answers the questions and assures them there is no evidence because there is nothing to have evidence about. It doesn’t take long before he too is told to stand down and his case dismissed.

  Next Baccino is called, and although he admits he had made the black doublet that Saltarelli is wearing and another black one for Il Teri, who has yet to be called, there is no evidence against him and he is dismissed immediately.

  Lionardo Tornabuoni, likewise, has no evidence against him. He has not, he says, had any dealings with Saltarelli personally, although he has, he agrees, bought gold items from the shop where he works, ‘as have half the moneyed population of the city.’ He too is dismissed within minutes, but not before his own lawyer intervenes to ask him a question.

  ‘Have you,’ he says, ‘had any dealings with the painter Verrocchio?’ Lionardo Tornabuoni says yes he has, that he has bought a number of paintings from him and has recently agreed to give a reference for him in support of a contract. But then, before he can say more, the lawyer thanks him and ends the conversation. It’s all very strange and as he leaves the stand, there’s a confused murmur from the crowd. What was that all about?

  Finally they call Bartolomeo di Pasquino.

  ‘Are you,’ they ask, ‘a goldsmith, trading in the Vacchereccia?’

  Yes he agrees. He is.

  ‘And do you have any competitors in the area?’ they ask him.

  ‘Yes,’ he replies. ‘The establishment of Paulo di Giovanni Sogliano is opposite. The buco is right outside his door.’

  ‘And who owns that goldsmiths’ establishment?’

  ‘It is owned by Antonio del Pollaiuolo,’ he replies.

  Then they ask him to step down and in his place they call an official of the Palazzo della Signoria.

  ‘Have you had any dealings with Antonio del Pollaiuolo?’ they ask him. It seems a strange question, but somehow he seems to expect it.

  ‘Oh yes,
’ he replies. ‘He is bidding for a large painting, for the Palazzo. It has a lot of gold-leaf work involved and he has offered the services of his bottega in Vacchereccia to do the gold-work.’ He turns to the judge with a helpful expression. ‘In fact it was Paulo di Giovanni Sogliano himself who submitted the contract offer.’

  ‘And who is he competing with for this contract?’ It is clear the judge has been well-briefed.

  ‘He is competing with Andrea del Verrocchio,’ he replies. ‘Verrocchio is using young Leonardo da Vinci as his assistant and Bartolomeo di Pasquino has contracted to do the gold leaf for him. Leonardo Tornabuoni has given them both a good reference and recommended we look at The Baptism of Christ in the Church of San Salvi as an example of their work. They completed it less than a year ago and it is outstanding.’ He turns to the room. ‘Especially the angels.’

  The more knowledgeable in the crowd begin nodding. It is accepted as one of Verrocchio’s better pieces. Lucrezia sniffs. Not surprising really. One of the angels was painted by Leonardo and the other was by Botticelli.

  By this time the smirkers in the court room have stopped grinning. They sense that something is amiss. There’s something not being said. Then the clerk of the court hands over a piece of paper. ‘Do you recognize this writing?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes,’ says the official. ‘It is the same hand that made the contract application, the hand of Paulo di Giovanni Sogliano.’

  The clerk of the court says nothing. He just turns the piece of paper round, so could the court can all see it. It is the original accusation.

  For a moment Lucrezia sat, letting her point sink in. ‘So you see, not every apparent sin in the city of Florence is as bad as others would have you believe. There are varying interpretations. So before you call for harsher laws, think about the risks and the dangers. And before you make too many accusations, make sure you check your facts. You could be making a big mistake.’

  She stood and gathered up her blanket. Suddenly, for the first time that day, she had a bright smile on her face. ‘Shall we go back?’