Chapter 19: Celebration
The Feast of Divine Grace arrived as scheduled. The bell of the Cathedral of the Holy Thorn, which had been silent since the day of the Pope’s coronation, rang loudly. Following this, the bells of the Papal Palace, the Basilica of Our Lady of Mercy, the Advent Church, the Church of Blessed Sacrament… bells from all over the city rang out one after another. The deep, slow, and gentle chimes spread, awakening the slumbering holy city from the night and welcoming the first rays of dawn.
On this grand festival, the divide between the upper and lower city was significantly weakened. In the dim, impoverished districts, the first to leave their homes at the sound of the bells were inevitably the poor, small workshop owners, artisans, and penniless apprentices. Their incomes were pitifully meager, and they could only rely on such a little unstable salary to survive every day. They did the most vulgar and dirty work in Florence, like a silent but massive foundation of mud that supported Florence’s vast and magnificent body.
Due to their limited assets, they could not afford to live in areas where they had to pay an “urban maintenance fee.” Thus, the only areas left for them are the outskirts of Florence and the surplus land downstream of the river. These tumor-like proliferating houses accommodated half of Florence’s population. They needed to cross two or three blocks and countless streets to reach the spacious and magnificent square of the upper city to receive the blessings of the festival so they always got up early before dawn, dressed neatly, and prepared to go out.
The men wore linen or cotton shirts, covered by short coats of coarse wool, and wore dark soft hats. Their leather shoes were polished to a bright shine.
The women walking beside them wore light-colored long dresses – white was the best, of course. Those skilled in accessorizing would make creative changes to the collars and cuffs, such as designing unique decorations with lace or ribbons, and hanging colored ribbons around their waists – this was a unique artistic sense bestowed upon women by God.
The children screamed and played around their parents, enjoying the joy of the festival to the fullest. The shabby neighbourhood, which used to be dark and depressing, was now filled with a rare warm atmosphere. Loud laughter and brisk footsteps intertwined into a noisy melody. Although the people walking around looked haggard, they all showed joyful expressions.
The roads in the lower city were rugged and dark, the winding roads like tangled balls of yarn. They were narrow, damp, and complex beyond human imagination. Unlike the upper city, where the districts were divided according to family power and bloodlines, the residences here were arranged haphazardly and were basically grouped by occupations. For example, there must be a glass workshop around a rose garden, cloth merchants will live next to tailors, and fishmongers prefer shabby restaurants.
Here, their wages and salaries are insufficient to support them to form a large family. The sparse population and bloodline had to rely on their peers in the same industry to bolster their strength, so as not to suffer losses when they needed the support of blood relatives. Thus, the embryonic form of a guild was born here—just an embryonic form, for they lacked the intelligence and wealth to support the emergence of a more complete system.
Rough, square stones were stacked into crooked, low buildings. Rusty iron railings, abandoned ancient battlements, and fortresses were divided into different dwellings. The ground was soaked with the blood and feces of livestock, and sewage was poured directly from windows and doors onto the streets. Houses grew wildly, greedily vying for space in the perpetually unchanging damp and fetid atmosphere, leaving the already dark streets forever shrouded in gloom, much like the people who lived there.