On Thursday night there was a big accident just outside Florence so the staff at the Ufizzi prepared for a number of no shows to the fully booked Corridoio Vasariano (part of “Le Notti del Genio”). I approached the staff in charge and was told I would have to be very lucky to get in. They were not going to take my name but I insisted. I was number eleven. They take two groups of thirty, for which each pays $110 Euros. If someone doesn’t show then the “reserves” attend in their place for free.
They only took four people on the reserve list. I spoke to the woman in charge and she said that there were two more dates (Sat and Sun) and I should come early…perhaps 8:30 pm for the 9:00 PM entrance. I put it on my list of things to do (to be continued in an upcomming blog).
The next day:
It seems that the Florentines will find any excuse to dress up, in feathers, velvet and tassels. I was lingering over breakfast when all of a sudden the quiet of Friday morning was broken by deep heavy drumbeats. All this seemingly just below my window. My curiosity is my best trait (I think) and my worst…at times. I wasn’t about to let un-scrubbed teeth and vintage armpits stop me from running down to investigate. Ok, I paused long enough to pull on two-day old jeans and a tee. I pulled open the door and strikingly similar to the black and white to color sequence change in The Wizard of Oz, I revealed a dazzling array of color and sound as I walked from the muted earth tones of my building lobby to the Color by Deluxe street.
The 17th century maidens had just passed, dressed in proper black velvet carrying wicker baskets, strewing their flower petals… followed by period-dressed dignitaries and their wives in gold brocade. All the time the steady beat of the drum on this beautiful sunny day. Then just as I came out the door, the kaleidoscope of color had arrived by way of the red and white fleur-de-lis banner of Firenze accompanied by brass horns that announced their arrival in Piazza della Signoria. Flourishes filled the air. The huge crowd in the piazza cheered to the horns. The very long treble-range horns were carried by fellows dressed in deep fire engine red turban-like headwear with a sash of the turban fabric trailing two or more feet to the side. They wore heavy red lined white capes and mid-thigh white coats trimmed in red and cinched with leather that matched their boots. There were red fleur-de-lis emblems on their upper sleeves. One leg of their pants was white the other red. They all seemed to love doing this. One could often see them smiling for the cameras.
Right on their heels of rich brown leather, were the drummers. Apparently not to be out done, these base-drummers burst forth with even more color. They continued their steady cadence-rhythm beat. Their rich ultramarine satiny blue shirts-sleeves poked out of the sleeveless felt cadmium-yellow jackets trimmed in deep red. Their blusoned pantaloons were vertical stripes of blue and gold with yellow hose and blue leather shoes. The explosion of color was topped off with a blue velvet hat festooned with multicolored ostrich feathers.
Next were the flag bearers and jousting pole bearers dressed in warm brown soft-looking leather vests with costumes in red and white stripes. The dizzyingly varied array of stripes changed direction from garment to garment and even sported different directions on the same pair of pants like they were constructed by a stressed out seamstress on speed. They all had short pleated white-collar decorations. Most all had austere silvery metal helmets. One had a full metal breastplate and another had a costume that employed a myriad of extra colors, a red page hat and blue garters. Each time the trumpeters blasted away the flag-bearers waved their huge flags. As big as the flags were this was strenuous business and the costumes were heavy for the hot mid-morning sun.
They all marched into a cordoned area in the middle of the Signoria, close to the front of the Palazzo Vecchio. Out of the amazing array of color came a man who seemed to be the color-guard caller and band director. He called out loud and forcefully in a stream of sharp yelling notes that brought the flags and jousting poles to stiff attention. The brass shouted forth a triumphant display and the crowd cheered some more. Most of the people in the crowd had to be tourists. They must have just been cheering for the sheer pleasure of it. I must admit that even without knowing what was going on I was caught up in the excitement.
The director quickly turned and faced the front. Then from out of the Palazzo Vecchio came a stream of women in white robes stopping just before the fountain. This was the chorus. The white hooded priests came in following them. There was an announcement and out walked the same announcer from the flag competition. The one that never breathes. He was in a blue suit with blue shirt and blue and gold tie…boring. He did have a gold-fringed sash in the colors of Italia with a Firenze emblem.
There was a lot of Italian. I was clueless. But the spectacle was impressive.
The announcer and a red caped gold-sleeved man with red hat and baton laid a wreath of roses on the ancient pavers of the Signoria on a very large round stone spot that looks like this is an oft celebrated occassion. An opera aria commenced and the chorus continued. Their voices were as pale as the white of their costumes. There were trumpet flourishes and more Italian.
The entire procession left with the same pomp as when they arrived. I later went to look at the card on the wreath. I think it said something about a priest and I think a miracle. Although with the mistakes I make in Italian it could have been to commemorate the fiscal opening of gelato season. I will ask Ric or Matteo when I see them.
Now for a shower.
Your pictures for this blog are self explanatory, I hope.
NOTE: (added after research)
I photographed the commemorative circle in the Piazza della Signoria, after they removed the flowers. Babel Fish translation and then Google completed my research. It seems that the ceremony on the Friday (the 23rd of May) marks to the day in 1498 when the Dominican Friar Savonarola and two from his order were hanged and then burned on this spot. Savonarola began a monastic order that spoke out against the Florentine Republic. The Florentine Republic grew tired of his puritanical ways such as typified by “the bonfire of the vanities” where all worldly goods were burned. He was ordered to Rome for a trial under the Inquisition but the civil authorities of Florence had come to the end of their patience with Savonarola for alleged “schism, heresy, revealing confessional secrets, false prophesies and visions, as well as causing civil disorder.” It was apparently mostly as a result of the disorder he caused in Florence that led to his death. At his death he apparently became a Pre-Reformation martyr (REMEMBER I THOUGHT THE WORD WAS "MIRACLE" BUT I DID GET THE PRIEST PART RIGHT). Four hundred years later the city of Florence accepted their guilt in the affair and commemorated the spot in the square where he was executed. The pageantry I witnessed was the yearly commemoration ceremony of Savonarola’s execution.
