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The Pestilence Comes to Florence, 1348

Draft: this translation has not yet been checked against the original by a separate review.

Written
about 1349–1353 (events of 1348)
Place
Florence
Language
Italian
Kind of source
literature
Reading time
14 minutes
Difficulty
Challenging
Intensity
High

Black Death (1347–1351)Plague (Yersinia pestis)Death and burialFamily and lossRich and poor

Once in a Lifetime themes: Fear, Exhaustion

Versions

The edited translation, in simplified modern English. Bracketed words were added for clarity; [...] marks a cut. Tap a note number to read the note.

I say, then, that it was the year 1348 since the fruitful Incarnation of the Son of God when the deadly pestilence came to the noble city of Florence, more beautiful than any other city in Italy. Whether it came through the workings of the heavenly bodies,1 or was sent upon us mortals by the just anger of God to correct our wicked ways,2 it had begun some years before in the lands of the East. There it had taken the lives of countless people. Then, without stopping, it had moved on from place to place and spread, wretchedly, toward the West.

Against it no wisdom or human foresight did any good. Officials appointed for the task cleared the city of much filth. No sick person was allowed to enter, and much advice was given on staying healthy. Nor did humble prayers to God do any good, though devout people offered them not once but many times, in organized processions and in other ways. Almost at the beginning of spring that year, the pestilence began to show its painful effects, in horrible and astonishing ways.

It did not act as it had in the East, where a nosebleed was a clear sign of certain death. Here, at the start of the illness, men and women alike grew swellings in the groin or under the armpits. Some grew as big as an ordinary apple, others as big as an egg, some bigger and some smaller. The common people called them gavoccioli.3 Soon these deadly swellings began to appear and grow anywhere on the body, not just in those two places. After this the signs of the sickness began to change into black or bluish spots. In many people these appeared on the arms, the thighs, and every other part of the body. Some had a few large ones, others many small ones close together. The swelling had been at first, and still was, a sure sign of coming death, and so were these spots, for anyone who got them.

No doctor’s advice and no medicine seemed to help or do any good in curing these illnesses. Perhaps the nature of the disease did not allow a cure. Or perhaps the healers did not know what caused it, and so did not use the right remedy. Besides the trained doctors, there were now a great many such healers, women as well as men, who had never had any training in medicine. In any case, few recovered. Almost all died within three days after the signs appeared, some sooner and some later, and most without any fever or other symptom.

This pestilence was all the more powerful because it leapt from the sick to the healthy when they were together,4 just as fire catches dry or oily things brought close to it. And the evil went further still. Not only did talking with the sick or spending time with them give the healthy the sickness, or cause them to die the same death. Even touching the clothes of the sick, or anything else they had touched or used, seemed to pass the sickness on to the person who touched it. What I must tell now is amazing to hear. If I and many others had not seen it with our own eyes, I would hardly dare to believe it, let alone write it down, even if I had heard it from someone I trusted.

I say that this pestilence passed from one to another so powerfully that it went not only from person to person. It often did something much stranger, which people saw plainly. If an animal of another kind touched something that had belonged to a person who was sick, or had died of this disease, the animal not only caught the sickness but died of it in a very short time. My own eyes, as I said a moment ago, saw this one day, among other times. The rags of a poor man who had died of this disease had been thrown into the public street. Two pigs came upon them. As pigs do, they first rooted at them with their snouts and then took them in their teeth and shook them against their cheeks. A short while later they twisted about, as if they had eaten poison, and both fell dead on the ground, on the rags they had pulled at to their cost.

These things, and many others like them or worse, gave rise to all kinds of fears and fancies among those still alive. Nearly all of them aimed at one quite cruel goal: to shun and flee the sick and their belongings. By doing this, each one believed, he could keep himself healthy. Some thought that living moderately and avoiding every excess would do much to resist such a disaster. They formed their own groups and lived apart from everyone else. They gathered and shut themselves up in houses where no one was sick and where they could live best. They ate the finest foods and drank the best wines, but in great moderation, and avoided all indulgence. They let no one talk to them and wanted no news from outside about death or the sick. They passed the time with music and whatever other pleasures they could have.

Others held the opposite opinion. They claimed that the surest medicine for so great an evil was to drink a lot and enjoy oneself, to go around singing and having fun, to satisfy every appetite in every way possible, and to laugh and joke at whatever happened. And as they said, so they did, as far as they could. Day and night they went from one tavern to another, drinking without limit or measure. They did this even more in other people’s houses, whenever they heard there was something there they liked or enjoyed. They could do this easily, because everyone, as if he had no longer to live, had abandoned his belongings, as he had abandoned himself. So most houses had become common property. Any stranger who came upon one used it just as its owner would have. And for all this beastly behavior, they still kept away from the sick as much as they could.

In such suffering and misery, the respected authority of the laws, both God’s and man’s, had almost entirely broken down in our city. The men who served and enforced the laws were, like everyone else, all dead or sick, or left with so few assistants that they could not do their work. So everyone was free to do whatever he pleased.

Many others took a middle way between these two. They did not limit their food as much as the first group, nor let themselves go in drinking and other excesses like the second. They took what they needed to satisfy their appetites. They did not shut themselves up but went about carrying flowers, or fragrant herbs, or various kinds of spices. They often held these to their noses, thinking it an excellent thing to comfort the brain with such smells,5 because the whole air seemed filled with the stench of dead bodies, of sickness, and of medicines.

Some had a crueler view, though perhaps it was safer. They said that no medicine against pestilence was better, or even as good, as running away from it. Moved by this reasoning, and caring for no one but themselves, a great many men and women abandoned their city, their houses, their homes, their relatives, and their belongings. They went to other people’s places, or at least to their own countryside.6 It was as if God’s anger, roused to punish human wickedness with this pestilence, would not follow them wherever they were, but meant to strike only those inside the walls of their city. Or perhaps they thought that no one would be left in the city and that its last hour had come. Not all of these people, with their different opinions, died. But not all of them escaped, either. Many who held each opinion fell sick, in every place. When they were healthy they had set the example for those who stayed healthy, and now they lay wasting away, abandoned almost everywhere.

Never mind that citizens avoided one another, that almost no neighbor cared for another, and that relatives rarely or never visited one another, and then only from a distance. This disaster had struck such terror into the hearts of men and women that brother abandoned brother, uncle abandoned nephew, sister abandoned brother, and often a wife abandoned her husband. What is worse, and almost beyond belief, fathers and mothers refused to visit and care for their own children, as if the children were not theirs.

[...] Besides this, many died who might have survived if they had been helped. Because the sick could not get the care they needed, and because the pestilence was so strong, so many people in the city died day and night that it was astonishing to hear of it, let alone to see it. So, almost of necessity, customs arose among the survivors that went against the citizens’ old ways.

It was the custom, as we still see today, for the women among the relatives and neighbors to gather in the house of the dead man and weep there with his closest family. Outside the house, the dead man’s neighbors and many other citizens gathered with his kin. Clergy came, as many as befitted his rank. His equals carried him on their shoulders, with a funeral procession of candles and chanting, to the church he had chosen before he died. When the pestilence grew fiercer, these customs stopped entirely, or nearly so, and new ones took their place. People not only died without many women around them, but many left this life with no one there at all. Very few were granted the loving laments and bitter tears of their families. Instead, laughter, jokes, and merrymaking with companions were mostly the custom. The women had set aside much of their womanly pity and learned this custom very well, for the sake of their own health.

Few bodies were followed to church by more than ten or twelve neighbors. The men who carried them were not respected, well-born citizens. They were a kind of corpse carriers who had sprung up from the common people and called themselves becchini.7 They did this work for pay. They took up the bier and carried it in haste, most often not to the church the dead person had chosen before death, but to the nearest one. They followed four or six clerics who carried few candles, and sometimes none. With the help of the becchini, the clerics put the body in whatever empty grave they found first, without troubling themselves with too long or solemn a service.

The sight of the common people, and perhaps of most of the middle sort, was far more miserable. Most of them stayed in their houses and neighborhoods, held there by hope or by poverty. They fell sick by the thousands every day. No one served them or helped them in any way, and almost all of them died, with nothing to save them.

Many died in the public street, by day or by night. Many others died in their houses, and their neighbors learned they were dead from the stench of their rotting bodies before they knew it any other way. Everywhere was full of these and of others dying all around.8 The neighbors mostly followed one practice, moved as much by fear that the corruption of the dead bodies would harm them as by any love for the dead. By themselves, or with the help of some bearers when they could find any, they dragged the bodies of the dead out of their houses and laid them in front of their doors. Anyone walking about, especially in the morning, could have seen countless bodies there. Then they had biers brought, and sometimes, when there were not enough, they laid the bodies on a plank.

It was not just one bier that carried two or three bodies at once, nor did this happen only once. One could have counted many that held a wife and husband, two or three brothers, a father and son, and so on. Countless times, when two priests went out with a cross for someone, three or four biers carried by bearers fell in behind it. Where the priests thought they had one dead person to bury, they had six or eight, and sometimes more. And still no tears, candles, or mourners honored these dead. Things had come to such a point that people cared no more for men who died than they would now care for goats. It was plain to see that the natural course of things, with its small and rare losses, had not been able to teach even the wise to bear such things with patience. But the sheer size of these evils taught even simple people to accept them without caring.9

So many bodies were brought to every church every day, almost every hour, that there was not enough consecrated ground to bury them, especially if each was to have its own grave, as the old custom was. So when every part of the churchyards was full, huge pits were dug, and the newly arrived bodies were put into them by the hundreds. They were packed in layer upon layer, like goods stowed in a ship, and each layer was covered with a little earth, until the pit was full to the top.

I will not go on searching out every detail of the miseries our city suffered. I will only say that while such hard times ran through the city, they did not spare the surrounding countryside in the least. Leave aside the walled towns, which were like the city on a smaller scale. In the scattered villages and the fields, the wretched, poor farmworkers and their families died with no doctor to treat them and no servant to help. They died on the roads, in their fields, and in their houses, by day and by night alike, not like men but almost like animals.

So they, like the city people, grew careless in their ways and looked after none of their belongings or work. They all acted as if they expected to die that very day. They did not try to tend the future yield of their animals, their land, and the work they had already done. Instead they did all they could to use up whatever they had at hand. So the oxen, donkeys, sheep, goats, pigs, chickens, and even the dogs, men’s most faithful friends, were driven from their homes and wandered at will through the fields. There the grain still stood, abandoned, not only unharvested but not even cut. Many of these animals, almost as if they could reason, ate their fill during the day and at night came back to their houses, full, with no herdsman to guide them.

What more can be said, leaving the countryside and returning to the city? Only this: the cruelty of Heaven, and perhaps in part of men, was so great that between March and the following July more than 100,000 human beings are believed for certain to have died within the walls of Florence.10 They died from the strength of the deadly disease, and because many of the sick were poorly served or abandoned in their need, since the healthy were afraid. Before this deadly disaster, who would have guessed that the city held so many people?

Oh, how many great palaces, how many beautiful houses, how many noble homes, once full of families, of lords and ladies, were left empty, down to the last servant! Oh, how many famous family lines, how many vast inheritances, how many famous fortunes were left with no rightful heir! How many brave men, how many beautiful women, how many charming young people, whom even Galen, Hippocrates, or Aesculapius11 would have judged perfectly healthy, ate their morning meal with their relatives, companions, and friends, and that very evening dined with their ancestors in the other world!

Notes

  1. The stars and planets. Many medieval scholars blamed epidemics on the positions of the stars and planets. back
  2. The belief that God sent disease to punish wrongdoing or to call sinners to repent. back
  3. The Florentine name for the swellings (buboes) of plague. back
  4. The idea that disease passed from person to person by touch, breath, or objects, long before anyone knew about germs. back
  5. Many believed that disease spread through foul or poisoned air, and that sweet smells could guard against it. back
  6. The contado, the farmland and villages around Florence that the city ruled. Many well-off Florentines owned farms and houses there. back
  7. Gravediggers and corpse carriers, hired for pay. back
  8. The sentence has no verb in the edition. Fanfani, the editor, thought an early copyist had dropped one. back
  9. This sentence is famously hard. Fanfani, the editor, calls it the most obscure in the book; the translation follows his explanation. back
  10. A round figure that people believed, not a count. back
  11. Hippocrates and Galen were the most famous doctors of ancient Greece and Rome. Aesculapius (Asclepius) was the Greek god of healing. back