Page 29 of The Medici Return

Florence had beentheircity, and the family name still met you at every corner, their shields and images everywhere. An amazing legacy for latecomers to banking, but they were masters of parlaying, intermarrying with crowned heads, and interjecting themselves into a prominent role in European history. Most of the other Florentine bankers were forgotten. Not them, though. Their secret? Historians would say it was their ability to always have the right man in the right spot at the right time. Then making sure the opposition did not do the same thing. Which served the Medici well, as they effectively controlled Tuscany for three centuries.

The basilica and the chapels at San Lorenzo were now popular museums, closed for the day. Thankfully he had long known thecurrent curator, a personal friend, who was thrilled to be close to a member of parliament and the secretary of a rising political party. The same was true of his DNA expert, who now accompanied him on the walk. They avoided the main entrance and rounded to the far side of the building. Its façade was austere rough stone, crossed by deep horizontal lines whose purpose would have been to support a marble facing that was never applied. There’d been lots of talk of finishing the exterior to Michelangelo’s medieval specifications, but no one had, as yet, raised the money to make that happen.

In the beginning the Medici were careful, assiduous men of business, prudent and generous, defenders of the poor against tyranny. Then they became farsighted capable statesmen, burdened with public affairs, raising the power and prosperity of Florence and advocating the arts and learning. Finally they morphed into crowned heads, dukes of the most important territory in Italy.

The family’s motto?

Semper.Always.

What set them apart? They were consistently superior in mind and spirit.

Like himself.

But he was also a realist.

A populist thrived only off what was said. Not what was done. Like the Medici of the past he and his colleagues promoted the idea that they alone representedthe peoplein their struggle against a corrupt and indifferent establishment. They alone understood disenchantment. Fear. A desire for alternatives. Critics said they advocated demagoguery and authoritarianism like Mussolini, offering overly simplistic answers to complex issues, presented in a flamboyantly emotional manner. Okay. What was so wrong there? Opponents called it political opportunism. Trying only to please voters and ease their minds without considering rational, carefully thought-out solutions. Maybe so. But it worked.

He’d carefully studied other populists. Latin American leaders like Juan Perón in Argentina and Hugo Chávez in Venezuela.But there’d also been a more recent emergence of the movement in Spain, Greece, and Brazil. Even the United States had seen its share, where the message was aided by a constitutional freedom of speech. Viktor Orbán’s Civic Party recently won a majority of seats in the Hungarian national assembly. True, Orbán’s close ties with Moscow raised concerns, but his core voters were persuaded by his iron-fisted rhetoric that mending ties with the European Union might lead Hungary into war. A good lesson learned there.

Brazil taught the opposite. Jair Bolsonaro won the country’s presidential election in 2018. He openly expressed admiration for the brutal military dictatorship that once ruled Brazil. But Bolsonaro became arrogant, ignoring the nation’s aggressive press and strongly independent judiciary. He failed to accomplish anything meaningful regarding taxes or Social Security. He also underplayed the recent pandemic, assuring Brazilians that the illness was no more thana little flu. He opposed lockdowns in favor of keeping the economy open, disparaged masks, and voiced doubts regarding vaccines. Not surprisingly, the death rate in Brazil soared to the fifth highest in the world and Bolsonaro lost his bid for reelection.

So populism came with limits.

He spotted the curator, who waited at the church doors.

“Everyone is gone,” the man said as they approached. “The building is empty and secure.”

“Cameras?”

“Off for the next hour.”

Perfect. He stepped close and laid a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “I appreciate that. Tonight, we change history.”

“It would be incredible if the royal Medici returned.”

He’d said enough to gain trust. “We have the one link established. Now we need to complete the chain.”

He knew, of course, that his own bloodline worked its way all the way back to Gregorio Cappello. But who were Cappello’s parents? That was the question for the night, or at least half of it.They’d come to find Gregorio Cappello’s mother, who held the distinction of being the last royal Medici.

Anna Maria Luisa was born in 1667, the middle child of three to Cosimo III, Grand Duke of Tuscany. The family succession seemed secure with three healthy heirs, two of whom were male. But in reality, the Medicis’ time was running out, the family vitality gone sour and drying up. At age twenty-four Anna married Johann Wilhelm, the Elector Palatine of the Rhine, and moved to Germany. By all accounts their twenty-five-year marriage was a good one, but it remained childless.

Grace and fascination hung round her every move, and whether she was grave or happy, silent or speaking, quiet or in motion she was always attractive.

He liked that description of her.

Along withwhile without any particular regularity of features she concentrated within herself the varied influence of every feminine beauty.

Sounded like quite a lady.

When her husband died in 1716 Anna’s world fell apart, and though he left her amply provided for in his will, the Holy Roman emperor, Charles III, denied her that wealth. So in 1717, she left Germany and returned to Florence. There, she took up residence in the royal palace with her father. Her older brother, Ferdinando, had already died and her younger brother, Gian Gastone, was an inept alcoholic. But when her father died in 1723 Gian became grand duke. Brother and sister did not get along and for fourteen years Anna languished in isolation, watching her brother’s steady decline. She was seventy years old when Gian Gastone, the last legitimate male royal Medici, died in 1737.

Childless.

Anna died in 1743. Childless.

Or so history noted.

He could still hear his grandmother’s words.

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