THE FLORENTINE BROTHERS OF MERCY.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XIX, Issue XXI, 13 November 1897, Page 665

THE FLORENTINE BROTHERS OF MERCY.

One morning in Florence, while walking past the Campanile in the I’iazzo del Duomo, I saw a great crowd of Florentines —men, women, and children — gathered about the doors of a building near the Cathedral They were talking in loud tones and gesticulating wildly, their eyes large with excitement. As I halted and stood watching them and wondering what the trouble might be, for their faces were grave, the bell in the neighbouring church clashed out three times, and instantly a great hush fell upon the crowd and the people crossed themselves lyThen out of the building hurried a strange procession of men. They wore long black gowns, girdled about with a cord, and black hoods that completely concealed their faces and necks, leaving only their eyes visible. Suspended over their left arms they carried their broad-brimmed black hats. Eight of them bore what appeared to be a bier. The crowd parted instantly to right and left to let them pass, men reverently baring their heads. The procession rapidly made its way through the I’iazzo del Duomo toward the Tonte Vecchio, which spans the river near the Cathedral, followed closely by the crowd. Interested and curious to know what it all meant, I followed too. As I approached the bridge 1 saw another large crowd further on assembled about some object in the street. This crowd also instantly parted and the procession passed through. As it reached the centre of the crowd it halted. Then those bearing the bier-like burden placed it upon the ground. I was able at once to guess the meaning of it all. On his back in the street lay a man quite dead, clutching in his right hand a whip, in his left a portion of a broken bridle rein. Beside him lay his hat and a basket. His horse had thrown him violently against the stone steps leading up to the bridge. A hooded man knelt beside the corpse, tore, open the dead man’s shirt at the throat and placed his ear above the still heart. Then shook his head gravely and rose to his feet. Tenderly they lifted the corpse in their arms and placed it within the litter and then moved slowly away. All this time not one word had been spoken by any one. One might have thought that the crowd had suddenly been struck dumb. But now the people, as they sadly dispersed, broke out into a great chattering. Many retraced their steps to the Cathedral murmuring prayers meanwhile and counting their beads. I followed them, only to find a larger crowd assembled there than I had yet seen. From a city guide who was standing near me I got, for a consideration, an explanation of the strange and picturesque sight I had just witnessed. ‘La Misericordia, signorina,’ he said. ‘They have their headquarters here in the Piazzo. A very old society, founded 500 years ago during a great plague that visited the city.’ ‘Then they are not priests?’ I asked. ‘No, signorina; La Misericordia is a fraternal society. Any Florentine who is an honourable man may belong Even the very highest consider it an honour to be one of these brothers. Both King Humbert and the Archbishop of Florence are honorary members. ‘The society is formed from all classes, both aristocrats and men of the people giving their services voluntarily. And not only do they give their services, but each brother pays yearly a sum of money as large as he can afford into the society’s funds. ‘When an accident occurs in Florence or a man or women falls ill upon the streets, this bell in the steeple above us—this is the Church of the Misericordia —tolls twice. Instantly a crowd gathers in the cathedral piazzo to learn the news, while the brothers hurry with their litter to the scene of the trouble. If the bell tolls twice and then again three times, we know that the result has been fatal. ‘Every day a certain number of men belonging to the society remain at headquarters for duty. When called upon by the ringing of the bell they don gowns and hoods and hurry on their blessed errand of mercy. ‘When on duty they never reveal

their faces. If for any reason it becomes necessary for a brother to raise his hood, he dare not recognise any one, though it be his own mother or his dearest friend. For the strict laws of the society prohibit him from doing so. Not even when nursing the sick may he speak to those about him. ‘La Misericordia does not. believe that the left hand should know the good deeds of the right. ‘Only in one way can a Florentine know anything of the identity or social standing of one of these brothers, and that is by his boots. Often in a long procession the heavy boots of a workman may lie seen beneath his robe next to the [tolished ones of a gentleman. ‘On returning from an errand of mercy the brothers enter the Cathedral two by two. As the first two put their feet on the church steps they turn to the next, two and say ‘May God reward you.’ And the second two reply, ‘And you also.’ This is repeated as the procession advances up the aisle until all have saluted. Then quietly and secretly they disperse.’ La Misericordia is greatly respected in Florence. Men always bare their heads when they pass a brother in the street and women cross themselves and murmur a blessing. The society does its work with remarkable order and system. Years ago the brothers wore red robes. Even now all do not wear black, for those living outside of Florence proper dress in pure white. If an accident occurs without the city limits the white robed brothers bear the injured person to the city’s gates and there deliver him to the brothers in blaek. For only La Misericordia of Florence proper are permitted to carry an injured person or touch a dead one within the walls of the city. Preceded by a servant, also dressed in black, and wearing a large square collar and a hat like that worn by the Florentine police, a procession of these brothers carrying the dead or wounded through the streets, is both a strange and beautiful sight. The servant does all the conversing. Hut even he does not know whom the men he is serving are. La Misericordia is the ambulance corps of Florence, and whether it be famine, accident, or some dread disease, they go bravely anywhere ami everywhere to rescue and care for the sick or to bury the dead. They are perhaps not so quick in service as our great ambulance corps in America are. They do not dash up and then dash away again. Rut gently and quietly—with many a tender touch and many a kind word—they pass about among rich and poor, giving a cup of cold water here, earing for a sick one there, and carefully bearing those who fall ill or die upon the streets to their homes, saying, as do the King’s Daughters of our own land, that it is done ‘in His name.’