Savonarola’s closest friend amongst the Florentine intellectual community seems to have presented an altogether different case. Where Pico was concerned, all question of heresy was a thing of the past. During the months following his return to Florence under the protection of Lorenzo he appears to have abandoned all thought of creating any further philosophical works. Yet it is now clear that around this time he returned to writing. He had long since renounced any secular beliefs, placing his faith in the hands of Savonarola, who was more than ever impressed by the quality of his friend’s spirituality and intellect. Savonarola would even go so far as to claim of Pico that ‘in mind alone, he was greater than St Augustine’.10 This was some compliment, considering that the philosopher and theologian St Augustine was undeniably one of the greatest intellects amongst the saints, and as such had been an object of extreme veneration to Savonarola from his earliest days as a novice.
This superlative respect appears to have been mutual – despite there being such evident differences between Pico and Savonarola with regard to temperament, ambition, social standing and lifestyle. And there can be no doubt that these differences remained evident – especially where the last of these categories was concerned. For even during this most pious and penitent stage of his life, Pico found it impossible to set aside the habits of a lifetime. Ridolfi paraphrases ‘a previously undiscovered note’11 written by Fra Giovanni Sinibaldi, one of Savonarola’s most trusted confidants at San Marco during this period:
From this we learn an extraordinary and unexpected fact which certainly does not accord with the much-vaunted ‘life of a saint’ which Pico was reported to have lived during this period – namely, the fact that he was living with a concubine.12
In such circumstances – historical, linguistic and geographical – the use of the word ‘concubine’ (concubina) would indicate a common-law wife, rather than, as can be the case elsewhere, a mistress, an unaccredited extra wife or simply a ‘kept woman’. Pico had evidently abandoned his previous licentious habits, but could not bring himself to forgo the pleasures of the flesh entirely. Yet why should Pico, who was now striving in so many ways to emulate his friend Savonarola, and was discussing theological matters with him on such a regular basis, have chosen to live in sin, especially when he knew all too well Savonarola’s horror of fornication? Why didn’t Pico simply get married? Nothing is known of his partner, and it is of course possible that in the manner of the period a wide difference in class rendered marriage out of the question. However, there could have been another reason for Pico remaining single, and this appears to be the most likely explanation. Pico had been encouraged by Savonarola to prepare himself for taking up monastic vows and entering the Dominicans as a friar. Pico was at first all for this idea, but would later be less sure if he was fitted for such a life. At any rate, although he blew hot and cold about this life-changing choice, it remained a strong possibility, and any officially documented marriage would have rendered such a vocation out of the question. Ridolfi also makes a rather surprising suggestion, writing that, ‘According to Sinibaldi, Savonarola was well aware of this state of affairs and even confided it to Fra Roberto Ubaldini … the future chronicler of San Marco.’13 This all-but-unbelievable circumstance provides a key to a number of ensuing events that might otherwise appear utterly inexplicable.
Although Pico may have renounced his humanist ideas and heretical universal philosophy, Savonarola was determined that his friend should not renounce his formidable intellect. To this end, he encouraged Pico to write a work that would eventually become entitled Disputationes adversus astrologiam divinatricem (loosely ‘Against Astrological Prediction’). Astrology had become highly popular amongst the humanists, because it attempted to show that human lives were dominated by psychological traits (star signs) whose movements through the night sky could be scientifically mapped in relation to one another (producing ‘influences’). All this ran parallel with the burgeoning Renaissance sense of individualism, self-understanding and growing scientific awareness. Unfortunately, this was not psychology but wishful thinking, not self-understanding but self-delusion, not physics but metaphysics. And instead of allowing the soul the freedom to choose its own destiny, so that it could be judged fit for heaven, purgatory or hell, by implication its predestined determinism locked each human being into an inescapable fate no matter how he or she chose to behave. There could be no denying that astrology was incompatible with Christian doctrine (as indeed it was with the central tenets of the humanist outlook).
Savonarola was so keen to promulgate this argument, and encourage Pico to put his intellectual talents to good use in its cause, that he became a source of constant encouragement to his friend. According to Giovanni Nesi, a Platonist friend of Ficino, Savonarola assisted Pico by giving him ‘advice and judgement’14 whilst he was writing Disputationes. How far this went is difficult to say, but other informed contemporary sources suggest that Savonarola’s role may have extended to the point where he virtually co-authored Disputationes. Either way it was a work of some brilliance, which systematically dismantled one by one the foundations upon which this ancient Babylonian science of divination existed. Parts are unmistakably authored by Pico, such as when he reverts to ridicule, pointing out that astrologers – far from being able to prophesy great events – were not even able to forecast the weather. Other more subtle theological points could have been written by either of the putative co-authors. Typical of these was the insistence that by relying upon the movements of zodiacal signs and planets, named after secular images and pagan deities, the astrologers were in fact interceding with false gods. These owed no allegiance to God and operated according to their own movements or whimsical laws, all of which had nothing whatever to do with the Christian orthodoxy of the Ten Commandments of the Old Testament or with the New Testament teachings of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount. In essence, the astrological universe was a mechanical universe with ‘influences’, rather than a meaningful universe with a moral purpose.
Despite such evidence of his continuing brilliance, Pico’s mind had now undergone a profound categorical transformation. Previously he had sought to synthesise the ideas of various ages and religions into a creative unison, to reconcile all of humanity’s experience of the world into one imaginative vision that would be acceptable to all human beings. This ‘syncretism’ was a positive aspiration, in tune with the Renaissance ethos, and it is not difficult to see it as a metaphor, prescient of the scientific world view that would begin to emerge over the coming centuries, with its universally applicable laws. To a certain extent, Disputationes can also be viewed as a scientific work – in that it is a rejection of metaphysics and whimsical associations involving ‘influences’ and symbols. Unfortunately, in all other aspects it represents a complete reversal of Pico’s thought. Rejecting the Renaissance way of thinking, Pico was now returning to the characteristic mindset of the medieval era. Instead of attempting to create a truth by synthesis, he was now reverting to the medieval method of thought championed by Savonarola. The truth was to be found in the correct interpretation of a body of authoritative texts. Incorrect interpretations, or other unorthodoxies, had to be condemned as the antithesis of such truth, as heresies. Authority, as in the word of God, was the only acceptable truth. Pico’s great intellect had reverted from the Renaissance to the medieval world, from the freedom of creative imagination to the limitations of orthodoxy.
Savonarola was, of course, most supportive of Pico’s wish to take up holy orders, and did his best to dissuade him from his moments of vacillation. Yet even Savonarola knew that such a step would require more than his strong support and Pico’s belief in his vocation. The charge of heresy – the result of Pico’s earlier philosophical activities – remained outstanding after Innocent VIII’s death. The only way Pico could be pardoned was by order of the new pope, Alexander VI. Concrete evidence of Pico’s reform and strict adherence to orthodoxy could certainly have been produced by the publication of his bri
lliantly argued Disputationes adversus astrologiam divinatricem, but Savonarola had his doubts about presenting such a work to the Borgia pope Alexander VI. Not only was the new pope degenerate and unreliable (facts to which Savonarola had already begun making oblique reference in his sermons), but it was also rumoured that the Spanish Borgia family were highly superstitious and deeply committed practitioners of astrology. (This may well explain why Disputationes was not in fact published, or even widely distributed in manuscript form, until well after the death of both its putative authors.) No, if Alexander VI was to be persuaded to drop the charge of heresy against Pico, Savonarola realised that some other approach would have to be used.
But for the time being he became preoccupied with another important matter.
fn1 A cubit is usually reckoned to have been at least one and a half feet, making Noah’s Ark around 150 yards long.
fn2 This was the revelation mentioned earlier, which was wrongly thought to have preceded the death of Lorenzo the Magnificent, allegedly causing the congregation to see the thunderbolt that struck the cathedral as miraculous evidence of God’s scourge, as mentioned by Savonarola.
fn3 Cyrus the Great, who appears several times in the Old Testament, was the sixth-century BC King of the Persians who set free the Israelites from their captivity in Babylon, allowing them to return to their homeland to rebuild the Temple of Jerusalem. As such, Cyrus had long been seen in the Judaeo-Christian tradition as an unwitting instrument of God.
fn4 The Asia referred to here is the orginal territory given that name – the province of the Roman Empire that occupied the bulk of western Anatolia (modern Turkey), including the entire Aegean coast. The tribute was that paid to the Turks by the Venetians and the Genoese so that they could continue their lucrative trade with the Levant.
fn5 This particular incident, along with several others, is usually referred to as one of Savonarola’s ‘visions’. Circumstances suggest that on this and some other occasions what he experienced was in fact a dream, rather than a waking ‘vision’. The latter he would seem to have experienced (that is, seen in his mind) in a waking context whilst he was in a heightened emotional state (such as during a sermon) or when his mind was affected by his regime of excessive self-denial – which involved such mind-altering activities as painful self-chastisement, starvation or sleep deprivation.
10
A Bid for Independence
SAVONAROLA’S WISH TO move his Dominican friars from San Marco into new, more appropriate premises received an unexpected boost sometime around 1493, when a rich patron donated to the monastery a plot of woodlands, containing a wild chestnut forest, on the hillside of Monte Cavo near Careggi. Now it would be possible for Savonarola and his fellow friars to move out of San Marco and set up from scratch a monastery of their own. Savonarola had already thought long and hard about such a project, insisting that he and his fellow friars could live:
a life of sanctity, erecting a poor and simple monastery, wearing woollen habits that are old and patched, eating and drinking sparingly in the sober manner of the saints, living in poor cells without anything but the bare necessities, maintaining silent contemplation and solitude, cut off from the world.1
According to contemporary sources he had even worked out a suitable design for his new priory:
He intended to build his new monastery in a remote and solitary spot, which would express in every part of its design the spirit of poverty and simplicity. He wished the structure to remain low, close to the ground, with small cells separated by partitions of board or screens made out of plastered wattle, all with their door frames, thresholds and latches made out of wood. None would have iron bolts or keys. The columns would be constructed out of brick, not stone, and would be devoid of any decoration.2
Here at last Savonarola’s group of friars, utterly dedicated to their community, living out in the countryside in a simple building devoid of locks or protective iron bars, would be able to devote their lives to the vision of true Christianity that had become Savonarola’s ideal. As Savonarola explained to his colleagues:
When we have completed the building of this monastery and men come to the door and ask to speak to any particular friar or father, the gate-keeper will answer them: ‘Are you simple people? If you are indeed simple people you may come in. If you are not simple, you must leave us, for there are only simple people here.’3
On the surface, Savonarola’s motives for building his new priory were entirely pure. This would mark his withdrawal from the world and any attempt at political influence in Florence. But in reality, it was precisely the opposite. Only now does the full nature of Savonarola’s agreement with Lorenzo the Magnificent on his deathbed begin to emerge. In return for Savonarola’s support for his son Piero, and for refraining from preaching sermons demanding the freedom of the people of Florence from the ‘tyranny’ of the Medici regime, Savonarola would be guaranteed the support of Piero in his own political struggle for freedom.
Although Savonarola was prior of San Marco, the most prestigious Dominican monastery in Florence, and indeed the whole of Tuscany, he was not Vicar General of the Dominican order in the region. By a quirk of historical fate, the Dominicans of Tuscany belonged to the Congregation of the Lombardy region of northern Italy, which in turn belonged to the Dukedom of Milan. When the Vicar General of the Congregation of Lombardy was informed of Savonarola’s plans, which were due to proceed without his permission, the project for a new monastery was immediately vetoed. Instead, Savonarola was told to move his friars into the adjoining building of La Sapienza, an educational establishment attached to San Marco, at the north-eastern edge of the piazza.fn1 According to some sources, Piero de’ Medici supported the Vicar General in this move. Yet this can only have been part of a subterfuge, for Piero de’ Medici was in close touch with Savonarola through their mutual close friends Pico and Poliziano, and remained well aware of his plans. At the same time, there is a letter from Savonarola to Piero de’ Medici in which he states in the most loyal and respectful terms, ‘it is my intention and that of the monastery to do all that Your Lordship [Vostra Magnificentia] wishes’.
In Piero de’ Medici’s attempt to emerge from the dominating shadow of his father and establish himself as his own man, he had decided that Florence should become less dependent upon its powerful northern ally Milan, at the same time strengthening its ties with its other main axis ally, the Kingdom of Naples. The veto of Savonarola’s plans by the Vicar General of the Lombardy Congregation presented Piero de’ Medici with a perfect opportunity to pursue his new foreign policy. He decided to send a delegation to petition Pope Alexander VI for the Dominican Congregation of Tuscany to be declared independent of the Dominican Congregation of Lombardy, as this link was no more than a historical anomaly, which no longer bore any relevance to contemporary Church administration.
However, following the death of his friend Lorenzo the Magnificent, Ludovico ‘il Moro’ Sforza of Milan now considered that he was the main arbiter of power in Italy, and as such he should be the one to be consulted with regard to any initiatives affecting the Italian political situation (which at this period very much included the Church administration). Any lessening of Milan’s power, as impudently suggested by Piero de’ Medici, was out of the question. As it stood, the Dominican Congregation of Lombardy provided Milan with both a useful source of information in Florence and a hold over some of the most influential clerics in the region. Milan would send a delegation to Rome to contest Piero de’ Medici’s petition to the pope, and this would be backed by the strongest possible diplomatic representations. Ludovico Sforza knew that in Rome there were powerful conservative elements within the Church who had no wish to see any such ‘reforms’ – especially one involving Savonarola, whose antagonism towards Rome and everything it stood for was all too plain. Amongst Ludovico Sforza’s allies in Rome were the ambassadors from Venice, Bologna and Naples. Also, within the Tuscan Congregation there were many priors who fiercely opposed Savonaro
la and his new ‘message’, realising that his ‘independence’ would have an immediate and radical effect upon the administration of their own monasteries. Specifically, these included the Dominicans of Fiesole, Pisa, Siena and in particular the prior of San Gimignano. As if this body of powerful opinion were not enough, it was decided that the pro-Lombardy delegation should be led by none other than Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, who was not only the brother of Ludovico Sforza of Milan, but also a close personal ally of Alexander VI. Indeed, it was Cardinal Ascanio who had given the casting vote (encouraged by a mule-train of gold and jewellery delivered to his villa) that had ensured Alexander VI the papacy. Piero’s delegation faced a difficult – if not impossible – task.
Yet the machinations of politics, and especially the exercise of power, were not all they seemed in fifteenth-century Rome, especially with a pope of Alexander VI’s character occupying the throne of St Peter. Florence’s entire case was to hinge upon this. In line with Piero de’ Medici’s new foreign policy, his choice to lead his delegation in Rome was Cardinal Oliviero Caraffa of Naples, the official ‘Cardinal Protector’ of the Dominican order, though he was hardly a man of influence when compared with his opponents. Piero de’ Medici’s seventeen-year-old brother Cardinal Giovanni, who had only been a cardinal for just over a year and was still inexperienced in the ways of papal politics, may well have had a hand in this seemingly ineffectual choice; but it may also have been endorsed by Pico and Poliziano, whose wide network of intellectual friends throughout Italy perhaps afforded them a somewhat better vantage from which to judge Cardinal Caraffa’s character.
Death in Florence: the Medici, Savonarola and the Battle for the Soul of the Renaissance City Page 19
