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David
Prest tunes into a secret world of intrigue and skulduggery
behind the closed doors of the Tuscan capital.
'The recent
television exposés of Tuscany's hidden secrets have
shown us a very different side to Italy's most enigmatic of
regions. This was a place where routine exorcisms and extortion
rackets were rife. But if you go to Florence, be prepared
to scrape that darker side and look behind the closed doors
if you really want to get a measure of the city.  That's
the advice I was given by crime writer and Florence resident
Magdalen Nabb.
"People
seem surprised when I say that Florence, both architecturally
and as a city, inspires crime writing," says Nabb as
she sits in her apartment overlooking the Arno. "There
are huge, dark and mysterious doorways that you can just get
a glimpse through, and tiny alleyways which are positive Jack
the Ripper stuff, and it's the mysteriousness or closed nature
of the communities that's so fascinating. The average tourist
is put on a sort of railway line between the Uffizi Gallery
and Palazzo Pitti and only gets to see the backs of these
buildings".
 Of
course, it was jumping off these tramlines and peering behind
closed doors that got Lucy Honeychurch into a bit of a spot
when she left her "Room with a View", threw away
her Baedeker and stumbled on a murder in the Piazza. Florentines,
though, like to play on this roughty-toughty underside; it
gives them a sort of defence against all the 'oh the place
is just a museum' arguments with which they're frequently
challenged. The guides around the Duomo, for example, just
love to tell you about the attempted assassination of the
Medici Brothers.
"I
hate them," she screamed, "I hate the way they all
swan around as if it's perfectly all right for them to be
here. I hate the way they give me sidelong glances, checking
whether I'm cooler than them. Why do these bloody backpackers
have to spoil my happiness?"
 "They
came into the cathedral on Easter Sunday, 1472," explained
my guide Paula as we crept around the tombs, "and over
there in the right transept, came 'the knives'. Two monks
assassinated Giuliano but Lorenzo was saved after a friend
saw the glint of metal, threw himself across Lorenzo's back
and allowed him to escape."
To discover
the hidden interiors to Florence's buildings you have to look
behind those big heavy wooden doors and just opposite the
cathedral there's a building which houses the Misericordi
hospital. Its a sort of first aid stop and all the volunteers
wear black gowns and masked hoods as they sit waiting for
the call. The entry hall has an amazing curved renaissance
roof with wooden panels, old oak benches and Old Masters hanging
in the alcoves.
 "You
can see in this picture a man with a black dress," explains
Mario, one of the porters, as he points at an old oil painting.
"Its a uniform from the time of Dante, and originally
the hood would cover their heads to allow the person to remain
anonymous."
As I wandered
around the cathedral area, I remembered some more of Magdalen
Nabb's observations. "You can't help but be affected
by the architectures," she said, "suicides for example
always throw themselves off Giotto's bell tower. After all,
it's a statement if you jump off there and if I were going
to jump off something, I'd definitely jump off Giotto's tower.
It's beautiful." After climbing the 287 steps to the
top of the tower though you'd be hard pressed to summon the
energy to hurl yourself over the edge, and in any case you'd
need wire clippers to get through the steel mesh.
 But
away from the cathedral and the overcrowded central area its
great just to wander down the back streets. There are no hamburger
or pretzel sellers, just the ancient roadside tripe sellers.
"It's tripe," grinned Cosimo as he picked out a
steaming white substance from a big pan, "that's the
stomach lining of a cow. We keep it hot in its broth, slice
it up in the tray and put it into crispy rolls. The best accompaniment
is red Chianti wine".
Just off
the Piazza Santa Croce, I stumbled into one of many small
workshops. The front half is open to the public and is full
of fantastically detailed mosaics made from naturally coloured
stones which are highly polished and made into tables and
the like. If you peep behind the scenes though, you find that
the spirit of the great craftsmen lives on with ancient tools
such as chestnut and wire wood saws still being used to cut
and prepare the stones. But these are the men who made the
coffee tables for Saddam Hussein and tradition comes with
a price tag. "These tables are made of lapis lazuli and
other rocks from Russia and Siberia," said Geraldo, one
of the salesmen. "It takes nine and a half years from
cutting the rocks to laying the panels." I asked about
the price. "If you were serious we could sit down and
talk, but I warn you it will be a couple of billion lire.
This is priceless."
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