Postcard from Ferrara, Italy: Machiavellian Times

The influence and power the Este family exerted in Ferrara clearly was demonstrated when they began construction in 1264 on a palace directly across from the front door of the city’s cathedral. But the palace now serving as city hall proved not grand enough to accommodate the ducal family.

Next door, a castle-like fortress begun in 1100 as a single watchtower was undergoing major expansion to counter continual threats from enemies. The royal court began moving into the larger accommodations afforded by Castello Estense, surrounded by its protective moat, in 1479.

Careers in politics and religion were not peaceful pursuits in those times. Ferrara-born Girolamo Savonarola (1452-1498) joined the Dominican order and promoted a puritanical campaign against secular art and culture in Florence, offending many by even trying to reinsert religion into the exuberant pre-Lenten carnival celebrations for which Florence was known. Savonarola railed against the corruption within the church itself, predicting an apocalyptic event such as a biblical flood on the horizon.

Pope Alexander VI (1431-1503), a member of the Borgia family, found Fr. Savonarola’s assertions of corruption offensive and summoned him to Rome. Snubbing the papal invitation proved unwise, and Savonarola found himself excommunicated, shortly before his public hanging.

If an injury has to be done to a man it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared.

Niccolo Machiavelli, The Prince, 1513

The papacy was different then, and the words above written by Machiavelli (1469-1527) applied to practices embraced by Pope Alexander VI. Casting aside ethics in favor of political expediency, the pope proved himself worthy of serving as the poster child for what we now label Machiavellian behavior and as a master of nepotism.

The pope chose to legitimize illegitimate children born to his favorite mistress prior to his ascension to the papacy. Daughter Lucrezia Borgia (1480-1519) became a political pawn for maneuvers to consolidate power under his authority. Her first marital liaison was deemed not effective enough to achieve her father’s increasing desires for supremacy, so Pope Alexander VI had it annulled on the grounds that it had never been consummated. While the marriage was being annulled, however, Lucrezia was tucked away in a convent where she secretly gave birth.

Following her second marriage, the pope elevated his illegitimate daughter to governor of Spoletto. But having served his usefulness in increasing the Borgias’ power, Lucrezia’s second husband soon was deemed disposable as well. He was murdered mysteriously, possibly by a brother of Lucrezia.

The pope needed to bring the Estes family under his control, so a third marriage was arranged for the beautiful Lucrezia. This marriage to Alfonso d’Este (1474-1534), the duke of Ferrara, proved more long-lasting than her earlier ones. Presumably, Alfonso breathed somewhat easier after the death of his father-in-law in 1503. Lucrezia died soon after giving birth to her tenth child 16 years later.

One could say Savonarola had the last laugh over the descendants of Pope Alexander VI, as his statue is perched predominantly on a plaza between the Este castle and the cathedral. But he does not appear to be smiling; his dour expression seems still to condemn those who are enjoying themselves on the surrounding public plazas.

Covering almost two blocks, the Castello Estense and its moats could be a major impediment to the movement of pedestrians in the heart of modern-day Ferrara. Instead, with its drawbridges down, the castle courtyard proves a convenient passageway for locals continually moving between the city’s Renaissance addition and its medieval quarters.

 

Postcard from Ferrara, Italy: Seeking signs of miracles

The nuns of Star of the Sea instilled the fear in me long ago. Never touch the host as Father Habit placed it upon your tongue. Suck on it gently, very gently, as you head back to your pew to pray. And, no matter how strong a vacuum it creates adhering it to the roof of your mouth, do not prod it loose with your finger and, never, never, never ever chew it before swallowing.

They insinuated that something major would occur if you violated these rules. I mean major. Like suddenly your whole pew full of people would be swallowed up by the earth or a lighting bolt would flash through the ceiling striking you dead upon the spot. They had me convinced.

Things are different today. God is more tolerant and forgiving; he no longer minds if you touch the consecrated host.

But a miracle in Ferrara left me wondering whether the nuns were wise in issuing their strong prohibitions.

Father Peter of Verona was celebrating mass in Ferrara on Easter Sunday in 1171, when he raised and broke the consecrated host, now the body of Christ. Blood sprayed and splattered upon the vault above the altar. A miracle.

Pilgrims from around Italy flocked to see the bright red proof left upon the ceiling. The church, the Basilica of Santa Maria in Vado, was expanded greatly to accommodate them in 1495, and a special vault was constructed within the sanctuary to safeguard the site.

Alas, I climbed the stairs to examine the bricks but failed to spot the spots. Perhaps that failure is the fate of lapsed Catholics – missed miracles.

On the other hand, maybe those red spots simply are faded. The evidence of the miracle appeared on that vault more than 800 years ago.

 

 

Postcard from Villa de Etla, Oaxaca: Pain paved the road to sainthood

Although the Church of San Pedro y San Pablo is far from small and fronts a spacious walled-in plaza in Villa de Etla, finding it though the maze of Wednesday market vendors with tarps obscuring upward views can be difficult.

The church and former monastery were founded by Dominican priests and built in the early 1600s. Their name honors two of the Catholic Church’s earliest and most famous martyrs, Saints Peter and Paul. The pair suffered rather painful ends under Emperor Nero: San Pedro was crucified, upside down at his request because he felt unworthy of dying in the same fashion as Jesus, while San Pablo was beheaded. Villa de Etla stages a major festival in their honor at the end of June.

But the San Pedro statue that catches one’s eye is of a Dominican priest who perished more than 1,200 years later. Brother Pedro’s preaching attracted papal attention, and he was promoted upward by Pope Innocent IV, who named him the Inquisitor for Lombardy in 1252. Charged with punishing heretics using some of the same brutal tactics as Emperor Nero had employed in Rome, San Pedro of Verona was pleasing the pope but made a number of powerful enemies. Assassins attacked him before he served even a full year in his position as Inquisitor. His enemies sliced his head open with an axe, and, when he continued to loudly profess his faith through prayers, they finished him off by stabbing him in the heart. San Pedro was rewarded with sainthood before the next year passed.

The statue of San Antonio of Padua bears such a sad expression; he appears to be mourning the loss of the original, more-to-scale sculptured companion of El Nino Jesus. Saint Anthony actually places second, falling only behind San Pedro of Verona, as the candidate canonized most quickly after death by the Catholic Church.

While in town on market day, many of the faithful visit the church to pray, light candles of hope and leave photos of loved ones in need of miracles.