IT’S autumn in Florence, the perfect time to enjoy the Italian city. Most of the tourists have migrated for the winter season, inexplicably preferring the inferno of the Arno valley in July and August. In the old Santa Croce quarter, standing elegantly with its perfectly symmetrical marble façade, is one of the most prestigious Franciscan churches in the world. With its magnificent frescos, sculptures and stained-glass windows, the Basilica of Santa Croce is tranquillity itself. Its artworks and religious symbols are of such beauty that reverence or joyful contemplation are the only fitting responses. Yet, I didn’t come here for artistic joy. I came here to find the tomb of one of the most notorious names in political history, that of Niccolò Machiavelli (1469–1527).
On the right-hand side of the nave, alongside memorials commemorating Michelangelo and Dante, lies Machiavelli’s tomb. Incongruous, you might think. A modest tomb compared with the others, it is a simple sarcophagus made of white Carrara marble under a Latin inscription: ‘Tanto nomini nullum par elogium’ (‘No eulogy is equal to so great a name’). Seated on the sarcophagus is an allegorical depiction of Politics holding a medallion with a portrait said to capture the great man’s likeness. The sharp, shrewd, skinny profile bears an uncanny resemblance to Tony Blair. Are my reflections on Machiavelli’s relevance in contemporary politics playing tricks on me?
هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة October 23, 2024 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
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هذه القصة مأخوذة من طبعة October 23, 2024 من Country Life UK.
ابدأ النسخة التجريبية المجانية من Magzter GOLD لمدة 7 أيام للوصول إلى آلاف القصص المتميزة المنسقة وأكثر من 9,000 مجلة وصحيفة.
بالفعل مشترك? تسجيل الدخول
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