Italy: A Royal Fury

So swiftly it rushed towards the royal stream, that naught held it back.

My frozen body at its mouth the raging Archain found, and swept it into the Arno.

Dante well knew the sudden fury of the Arno and its tributaries. So did later Florentines who saw their city flooded in 1333, 1577, 1666 and 1844. Last week the 450,000 citizens of the capital of Renaissance art once again watched in silent disbelief as the floodwaters of the “royal stream” receded. This time, the raging tide had swept down from the mountainous north in a wide arc through Florence. The waters killed at least 100 persons, dealt a severe blow to the economy of one-third of Italy, and ruined countless millions of dollars’ worth of Florentine masterpieces.

Sliding Forests. Disaster began with a cyclonic storm that poured millions of tons of water into the Arno, the Po and their tributaries. In the mountain resort of Alleghe, a hotel employee reported that the nearby lake was overflowing its banks, pushing whole forests down the sides of the mountain. In the Trentino region near Austria, 30,000 persons were left homeless. The torrent uprooted vineyards in Chianti-producing Tuscany and massacred livestock in a region that produces most of Italy’s meat. In Venice, it heavily damaged some 7,000 shops, though canal-traveling Venetians were better able to ride out the crisis than the Florentines.

In Florence, the tide tore through the walls of jewelers’ shops on the Ponte Vecchio (built in 1345) and inundated the Piazza, della Signoria. Propelling logs and other debris, it piled autos into heaps of smashed steel and left a thick oil slick in its wake. Hundreds of rare manuscripts and books were destroyed in the slime. The water knocked out five panels of Ghiberti’s “Doors of Paradise,” the famed bronze reliefs on the doors of the Baptistery near the Duomo. It wrecked the priceless 13th century crucifix by Cimabue in the Museum of Santa Croce. In the basements and other galleries of the Uffizi, 1,200 paintings were spattered with mud and grease.

When it was over, makers of fleur-de-lis leather dried their soaked goods on the riverbanks, jewelers dug with their hands through tons of mud looking for their wares. In his wrecked work shop, Fashion Designer Emilio Pucci, who said his loss may reach $1,000,000, shrugged, “I personally will begin again”; but he noted sadly that many of Florence’s artisans could never recover without outside aid. Meanwhile, Italian helicopters flew”800 missions a day to supply badly needed water and food. In Florence and its outskirts, Italian troops destroyed the carcasses of some 4,000 animals with flamethrowers.

Grim Days Ahead. Florentines attacked the government for delays in relief. “How is it possible to move this mass of liquid and mud with shovels?” complained Mayor Piero Bargellini. “We need earth movers, bulldozers, trucks.” In the Italian Parliament, Premier Aldo Moro was jeered—mostly trom the Communist benches—when he rose to speak. The government appropriated $320 million for emergency aid, raising the gasoline tax 6.4¢ per gallon to do it.

Though the loss in Florentine art was incalculable, Superintendent of Galleries Ugo Procacci gave assurance that “the Florence of the 15th century has withstood the fury of the elements and will be saved.” The Italian economy was not so fortunate. Premier Moro said that the disaster had wiped out the nation’s recent economic gains and warned Italians to be ready for “austerity and sacrifice.”