From Boccaccio to Boccacelli A history of Albergo Montreal Giles Walker - Lecturer in Italian, Pembroke College, Oxford (GB), 25th March 2004

We have often been asked why our hotel is called Albergo Montreal... Perturbed by the stench coming from the first floor, Jean climbed the stairs... As the hermit grew older, so he realised that he needed assistance... We have often been asked why our hotel is called Albergo Montreal. The name calls to mind the great French-speaking city of Canada, Montréal, and we shall see later that a Canadian pilgrim plays an important part in our story. But the origins of the name Montreal go back much further, to the time of the great Florentine writer, Boccaccio.

His famous work, the Decameron portrays a society in which the growing merchant class was becoming ever more powerful, and two sectors were particularly strong: the wool trade and banking. The name Monte is the archaic Tuscan word for bank, and it is probable that the site of the current hotel formerly belonged to one of the great houses that lent money to borrowers all over Europe. During Boccaccio's time, Florentine bankers financed the frequent wars between England and France, as a result of which the bank on this site might have acquired the nickname Monte Reale, that is the Royal Bank. In 1337 the rival kings Edward III of England and Charles IV of Anjou are believed to have borrowed heavily to finance their latest war.

Three years later, after the Battle of Sluys, which he won, Edward suspended repayments until the war's end. Following another defeat at Crécy in 1346, Charles too defaulted. Unfortunately for the Monte Reale, the series of battles that followed was to become known as the Hunderd Years' War, and it remained deadlocked at the end of normal time, despite the burning at the stake of the French teenager Joan of Arc in Rouen in 1431. Sixteen years of extra time were required before the French emerged victorious under the Golden Battle rule in 1453.

Sadly, of course, the Monte Reale had long since been bankrupted by a century of missed repayments and so the site of our hotel became derelict for a number of centuries, although it is rumoured to have been inhabited for most of that time by a hermit, who had made the unusual vow never to wash his feet. Certainly, the hermit was still there in August 1856 when a lumberjack from Québec passed through Florence as part of a pilgrimage from Santiago de Compostella to Rome. This lumberjack was called Jean Albert, and like many travellers from the time of Christ's birth until the present day, he couldn't find anywhere to spend the night. After hours of wandering the ancient streets with his pilgrim's staff and heavy backpack, at last Jean pushed at the open door of the delapidated palazzo that had once been Monte Reale.

Perturbed by the stench coming from the first floor, Jean climbed the stairs, where he found the saintly hermit deep in prayer. Odours the pilgrim had never before experienced on all his travels floated inexorably into his nostrils from the hermit's feet. As soon as the latter had finished his devotions, however, he listened patiently to the traveller's story and, filled with compassion, decided to take him in. Jean stayed for several days, visiting the many churches of Florence, and, over long hot evenings of endless conversations, formed a strong friendship with the hermit. Eventually they decided to build an inn on the site of the Monte Reale, to ease the hardships endured by future pilgrims. Jean was a skilled craftsman and worked quickly so that before the onset of winter, the first floor was complete. The hermit was so thrilled that he decided to name the inn Albergo Montreal in his honour. On the night of Christmas Eve, Jean was also to place the numbers on the doors. Unfortunately, the lumberjack wandered into one of the excellent taverns of via San Gallo, where the patron, Roberto, introduced him to the delights of Chianti Classico, and Jean was somewhat less than sober when he returned. Anxious not to offend the hermit by declining his kindness, however, he insisted on putting up the numbers as planned.

This may explain why until last year the numbers on the doors read clockwise 2, 1, 3, 5, 6, 7, 10, 9, 12, 11, 8, 22, 4. The epithet 'buono' was installed on the door of the tiny cell occupied by the hermit, and Jean set off after Christmas for Rome, promising to return in time to open the doors of the inn for the next season. The hermit vowed to wait for him, and remained patiently on his camp bed for over a hundred years. History does not relate what became of the pilgrim, although it is certain that he was not detained in Rome by that city's insipid white wines. On 4th November 1966, as the waters of the Arno flooded into the ground floor of the palazzo, the hermit decided he could wait no longer, and he ventured out to rescue survivors of the flood. Afterwards he gave free accommodation to those made temporarily homeless by the disaster and, when they eventually left, he opened the doors of Albergo Montreal to travellers for the first time, so fulfilling a dream he had shared with a Canadian pilgrim so many years earlier.

As the hermit grew older, so he realised that he needed assistance and so he took on a partener, Andrea, and a cleaning lady, Stefania. Andrea was a friendly and generous soul, who always made sure that when he repaired to the Grotta di Leo below to play cards, that he left a note for his guests, which read 'I'm in the Pizzeria!' If Andrea were winning, he would always offer his guests a glass of wine whilst the game was completed; however, when things were going less well, he was always willing to answer the call of duty and to abandon the table in order to open the hotel.

At first, guests were unused to the high standards of cleanliness introduced by Stefania. Soon, however, they began to come back in ever increasing numbers, until Andrea realised he would need to expand. In the 1990's he added two rooms, before selling the hotel and setting up the excellent Florence by Bike. The new owners were Roberto Boccaccelli, a swarthily handsome young Florentine, and his friendly Sicilian wife, Silvia lo Monaco. They immediately set to work to improve the hotel, adding the second floor rooms and the apartments. Then a chance meeting occurred on the eve of the new millennium between the mayor of Florence, Domenici, and Roberto. They talked a little about their plans for the new era, and both spoke of the need for 'grandi lavori', Domenici to build a tramway and Roberto to modernise the first floor of Albergo Montreal.

The pair laid a friendly bet that the one would complete his project before the other. At first, as the hole in Piazza Vittorio Vattene became longer and deeper, it seemed that Domenici had a head start, and certainly Roberto's hair became a whiter shade of grey when he received a whispered voice message 'Chi finisce per ulitmo, paga'. However, work on the tramway soon stopped, whilst Roberto refused to yield, until by 2002 all the rooms had carpets, sound-proofing and sensible numberings. The bathrooms too were modernised and gradually television sets began to appear. As this goes to press, the new reception area and breakfast room have been opened, and the lift has made its maiden voyage.

All these events have brought Roberto and Silvia closer together, as a result of which India and Alberto have joined the family. Now assistant manager, Stefania too has made her contribution to the next generation of the friendly Albergo Montreal, although this youngster shares the name Niccolò with the great Florentine political thinker, Machiavelli, so he may have join the city council and find out what happened to Domenici's tramway!