by Sevrin de Savage [Aaron D. McClelland]

At the close of the Trecento, in the summer of 1399, an odd phenomenon occurred in Tuscany; Penitents took part in a mass religious movement - the Prosessioner dei Bianchi - setting out from Pistoia and traveling south toward Rome. These faithful held before them the Ripalta Crucifix and walked from town to town, recruiting new penitents to their growing numbers. They wore simple white linen robes and, as they walked ever southward, sang the Stabat Mater, attributed to Jacopone da Todi, a hymn that meditated on the suffering of Mary, Mother of Christ during his crucifixion ...

Stabat Mater Dolorosa		The Sorrowful Mother was Standing
Stabat mater dolorosa iuxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius.		At the Cross her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last.
Cuius animam gementem, contristatam et dolentem pertransivit gladius.		Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword has passed.
O quam tristis et afflicta fuit illa benedicta, mater Unigeniti!		O how sad and sore distressed was that Mother, highly blest, of the sole-begotten One.
Quae maerebat et dolebat, pia Mater, dum videbat nati poenas inclyti.		Christ above in torment hangs, she beneath beholds the pangs of her dying glorious Son.
Quis est homo qui non fleret, matrem Christi si videret in tanto supplicio?		Is there one who would not weep, whelmed in miseries so deep, Christ's dear Mother to behold?
Quis non posset contristari Christi Matrem contemplari dolentem cum Filio?		Can the human heart refrain from partaking in her pain, in that Mother's pain untold?
Pro peccatis suae gentis vidit Iesum in tormentis, et flagellis subditum.		Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled, she beheld her tender Child All with scourges rent.
Vidit suum dulcem Natum moriendo desolatum, dum emisit spiritum.		For the sins of His own nation, saw Him hang in desolation, Till His spirit forth He sent.
Eia, Mater, fons amoris me sentire vim doloris fac, ut tecum lugeam.		O thou Mother! fount of love! Touch my spirit from above, make my heart with thine accord.
Fac, ut ardeat cor meum in amando Christum Deum ut sibi complaceam.		Make me feel as thou hast felt; make my soul to glow and melt with the love of Christ my Lord.
Sancta Mater, istud agas, crucifixi fige plagas cordi meo valide.		Holy Mother! pierce me through, in my heart each wound renew of my Savior crucified.
Tui Nati vulnerati, tam dignati pro me pati, poenas mecum divide.		Let me share with thee His pain, who for all my sins was slain, who for me in torments died.
Fac me tecum pie flere, crucifixo condolere, donec ego vixero.		Let me mingle tears with thee, mourning Him who mourned for me, all the days that I may live.
Iuxta Crucem tecum stare, et me tibi sociare in planctu desidero.		By the Cross with thee to stay, there with thee to weep and pray, is all I ask of the to give.
Virgo virginum praeclara, mihi iam non sis amara, fac me tecum plangere.		Virgin of all virgins blest!, Listen to my fond request: let me share thy grief divine.
Fac, ut portem Christi mortem, passionis fac consortem, et plagas recolere.		Let me, to my latest breath, in my body bear the death of that dying Son of thine.
Fac me plagis vulnerari, fac me Cruce inebriari, et cruore Filii.		Wounded with His every wound, steep my soul till it hath swooned, in His very Blood away.
Flammis ne urar succensus, per te, Virgo, sim defensus in die iudicii.		Be to me, O Virgin, nigh, lest in flames I burn and die, in His awful Judgment Day.
Christe, cum sit hinc exire, da per Matrem me venire ad palmam victoriae.		Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, by Thy Mother my defense, by Thy Cross my victory.
Quando corpus morietur, fac, ut animae donetur paradisi gloria. Amen.		When my body dies, grant that to my soul is given the glory of paradise. Amen.

The Bianchi phenomenon grew to alarming proportions as people from all walks of life closed their shops and houses and donned the white robes to join in the precessional. A wealthy merchant from Prato, Francesco Datini wrote on August 18, 1399; " ... on this day ... clothing ourselves entirely in white linen and going out barefoot ... and that we might have what was necessary, I took with us two of my horses and the mule. And on these we placed two small saddle chests containing boxes of all kinds of comfits ... and candles, and fresh bread and biscuits and round cakes, sweet and unsweetened, and other things besides that appertain to a man's life."

When the Bianchi reached Florence a short time later, Buonacorso Pitti, who at the time was serving his two month term as one of the Priori of the Signoria watched from the tower as hundreds of his fellow Florentines abandoned their daily lives to join the Bianchi movement. Later he would write of it; "During my term in the Signoria a great novelty was seen throughout Italy when people of all conditions began to don white linen robes with cowls covering their heads and faces, and throng the roads, singing and begging God for grace and mercy. While this was going on in Florence someone raised the cry: "Open the Stinche prison and free the prisoners!" By God's grace the danger of armed riots was averted, though it was a near thing. In the end everything turned out well, for the pilgrims brought about many reconciliation's between citizens."

Indeed they did. The Pitti family itself made peace with the family of a man Buonacorso himself had killed in Pisa. As the Bianchi fervor swept through Florence many age-old vendettas that had pitted factions and families against one another were healed.

But the massive movement of thousands of Bianchi throughout Italy also carried with it the Black Death. The irony being that the Bianchi started in Pistoia, a town then ravaged by the deadly plague, and had set forth in penitence to drive the sickness from their city. A counterpoint to turning enmity to amity, the Bianchi also brought the Black Death wherever they walked.

Pope Boniface IX and the Curia supported the Bianchi's penitential enthusiasm until they reached Rome. Boniface, realizing that many were plague carriers, pleaded with them to disperse and return home. When they refused he had their leader burnt at the stake.

In the end, the Prosessioner dei Bianchi dispersed as peacefully as they had come. One of the surviving Pistoian Bianchi, Ser Luca Dominici wrote of the aftermath; "... many of our group, upon its return, had dirty and blackened garments... also because they never took them off." Thus ended the Trecento, with reconciliation and death, with hope and hopelessness.

•

As the plague devoured its way through the populace of Florence, many citizens who could afford it, left the city for the relative safety of the countryside. One such man was the twenty-two year old Filippo Brunelleschi, an unknown goldsmith who was beginning a career that would forever change the way the world viewed itself.