The 120,000-florin treaty was now signed, but the tension through the city continued to rise, with each day bringing further stabbings and kidnappings. And still Charles VIII showed no sign of wishing to depart from Florence, taking his troops with him. How much longer would he refrain from allowing his troops to sack the city?
As a last resort, the Signoria called upon Savonarola to try and use his personal influence with Charles VIII. According to a contemporary report, Savonarola went to the Palazzo Medici and demanded to see the king. When the guards barred his way, he simply pushed past them. Inside he found Charles VIII dressed in full armour, preparing to lead his men in a sack of the city. Savonarola stood before him and raised a brass crucifix, whereupon Charles VIII’s manner changed and he greeted the priest with full respect. Savonarola addressed him forcefully, insisting:
It is not me to whom you should be paying respect. You should be giving honour to Him who is King of Kings, He who grants victory to the kings of this world only in accordance with His will and His justice, but punishes those who are unjust. You and all your men will be destroyed by Him unless you cease at once your cruel treatment of the citizens of our poor city …18
Savonarola pointed out to the young French king that the longer he stayed in Florence, the more he lessened the impetus of his campaign against Naples. Exasperatedly, he told Charles VIII:
Now listen to the voice of God’s servant! Continue on your journey without any more delay. Don’t try to ruin this city or you’ll bring God’s anger down on your head.
Savonarola’s words evidently had their effect, for on 28 November Charles VIII and his army duly left Florence. Contemporary reports make it clear that there was a widespread belief amongst the citizens of Florence that the city had been saved only by Capponi’s bravery and by Savonarola’s calming influence, both on his congregation and on Charles VIII.
Savonarola’s spirited demeanour during this tense and difficult period is rendered all the more admirable by what we now know of his personal situation at the time. On 15 November, the very day before he delivered his vital sermon before the French occupation calling for calm and ‘urging every man to keep his place’, he had learned of the death of his mother in Ferrara. Savonarola’s closeness to his mother can be gauged even from the few letters that he wrote to her, where in the view of Ridolfi: ‘beneath the pious resolution, there is an unmistakable current of great tenderness not to be found elsewhere’.19 He also refers warmly to his mother in one of his later sermons. Two days after his mother’s death, on the very day the French marched into Florence, Savonarola learned of another death, that of his beloved Pico della Mirandola. This meant that in the course of just a few months he had lost both of his closest secular admirers – for on the night of 28–9 September he had learned of the death of his friend, the poet Poliziano. This had come suddenly and unexpectedly, at the very time when Poliziano was encouraging Botticelli with his painting of The Calumny of Apelles, with the intention of persuading Piero de’ Medici that the whispers concerning Savonarola preaching against him were in fact nothing but slanders. Yet Poliziano would also be the object of slanderous rumours himself, and on his death a scandalous story began to circulate. According to the rumour, Poliziano had succumbed to a fever brought on by his love for a local Greek youth. In the middle of the night he had been possessed by a frenzy, rushed from his house and begun playing a lute beneath the Greek youth’s window; he had then been brought back home, only to expire later that night in a delirium. Savonarola had been deeply upset by Poliziano’s death, and had understood at once that the scandalous rumour concerning its circumstances was only intended to blacken his friend and expose his recent conversion to Savonarola’s teachings as a mere charade.
Now, on the very day the French army was to march into Florence, Pico too lay on his deathbed, having suddenly succumbed to a fatal illness at the age of just thirty-one. For some time Pico had been torn between his natural inclination to the life of a worldly intellectual, sharing a villa outside Florence with his concubine, and his longing to dedicate his life to God by becoming a Dominican monk – a longing heavily encouraged by his friend Savonarola. Yet now that Pico so suddenly and unexpectedly found his life ebbing away, he is said to have bequeathed all his possessions to San Marco and at last begged Savonarola to receive him into his order. According to legend, Savonarola laid out a Dominican habit over the body of the dying Pico, and later he would be placed in his coffin wearing this habit, buried on Savonarola’s instigation in San Marco beside the tomb of his friend Poliziano. After Savonarola had delivered his sermon on the following Sunday, 24 November, he gave a brief oration marking the death of his friend, declaring that ‘if he had lived longer he would have written works which would have outshone those of any other during the previous eight centuries’.20 Savonarola went on to say that he had worried about his friend Pico’s ultimate fate, fearing that on account of his life he would be condemned to the everlasting torments of hell. However, during the night Pico had appeared to him in a dream, saying that he was instead expiating his sins in purgatory. This remission had been granted on account of his alms-giving to San Marco and the fervent prayers of its Dominican monks who had come to regard him as one of their brethren.
Pico’s death would be mourned all over Italy, as had been the earlier death of his friend Poliziano. Curiously, Savonarola had seen to it that Poliziano too had been buried in the robes of a Dominican monk, despite the fact that – according to a contemporary Florentine – he had been ‘the object of as much infamy and public vituperation as it is possible for a man to attract’.21 This public disgrace had been caused not only by the slanderous rumours that had been spread about the manner of his death, but also by his closeness to Piero de’ Medici.
However, all this was to have a sensational denouement. In 2008 the cadavers of both Poliziano and Pico della Mirandola were exhumed in order to try and determine the true cause of their deaths. As reported in the Daily Telegraph:
The scientists used biomolecular technology and scanning equipment as well as DNA analysis to find a cause … they concluded that both men had been poisoned with arsenic, after finding a toxic quantity in their bones. High levels of mercury and lead were also found … Silvano Vincenti, head of the national cultural committee that organised the exhumation, said the killers came from Pico’s closest circle … ‘Combining the results of our analysis with historical documents which have recently come to light, it seems Piero [de’ Medici] was the most likely culprit for the assassination order.’22
In the end, Piero de’ Medici had never been given Botticelli’s Calumny of Apelles, and had come to believe the calumnies against Savonarola that were being whispered into his ear. These had finally convinced him that his apparent close friends Poliziano and Pico della Mirandola, who were evidently in such sympathy with the prior of San Marco, were in fact plotting against him and would have to be destroyed.
fn1 According to Joseph Calmette, the editor of Commines’ Mémoires, ‘it was believed that the horn of this fabulous beast was capable of detecting the presence of poison’.3 Likewise, its rarity, hardness and phallic symbolism had given rise to the belief that, when ground into a powder, it was a highly efficacious aphrodisiac.
fn2 Put at 20,000 ducats by Commines; other sources suggest the sum of 16,000 florins.
fn3 At the time, a moderately prosperous merchant in Florence could expect to provide for his entire household, including family, relatives and servants, for the equivalent of around 150 florins a year.
fn4 That is, a castrated chicken. Many have characterised this as a feeble joke by the dim-witted Charles VIII, yet under the circumstances it would have appeared to be something of a sharp pun.
14
A New Government
THE FRENCH ARMY had left Tuscany in ruins – its ports in French hands, its main thoroughfare under French control. As Guicciardini recorded: ‘Florence was stripped of Pisa, Leghorn [Livorno], Sarzana and Pietrasanto – p
laces on which our power, safety, authority and reputation depended.’1 Other cities in Tuscany, such as Arezzo and Montepulciano in the south, had taken the opportunity to cast off Florentine rule: ‘so many lands had been lost and practically our whole dominion had been broken up, that the city was greatly weakened, its income and power diminished’. The Medici days were over, and the city would have to reconstitute itself. Guicciardini described how:
When Charles VIII had departed, the city was left in civic disorganisation and the citizens set about reforming the government. A plan was put forward by several of the most important citizens whose leaders included … Piero Capponi … Lorenzo di Pier Francesco [de’ Medici] and Bernardo Rucellai. When they had agreed upon this plan, the bells were rung.2
On 2 December 1494, just four days after the French had marched out of Florence, the Vacca tolled atop the campanile and the citizens flocked to the Piazza della Signoria for a parlamento, to hear and vote upon the plans suggested by the ‘principal citizens’. The chief proposals were the abolition of the corrupt councils brought in by the Medici to maintain their power, and that all citizens who had been banished since the Medici took full power in 1434, as well as their families and descendants, were to be allowed to return from exile. To each of these proposals the crowd shouted overwhelmingly in favour. It was also communally decided that ‘an election should take place as soon as possible. For the present twenty of the noblest and ablest men would be appointed who would do the work of the Signoria and other offices, until the election should be arranged.’3 In effect, the council of twenty ‘noblest and ablest’ citizens would decide upon a new constitution that would replace the old corrupt Medici councils. The coming election would then select a new gonfaloniere and Signoria, as well as the members of any new councils set up by the twenty citizens. It was also agreed that the election would be carried out entirely openly and in a manner free from the previous corrupt practices, such as rigging the names of those eligible for office and tampering with the leather ballot bags.
By now many exiles were already beginning to return, the Signoria having posted a general amnesty immediately after Piero de’ Medici had fled. This inevitably stirred up old conflicts and a wish for revenge, especially against citizens who had openly supported the Medici and benefited from their rule. As Guicciardini describes it:
Anyone who had held public office during the time of Lorenzo or Piero was terrified. And the same was true of anyone who had ever harmed, or even whose ancestors had harmed, any of the exiles or their forefathers.4
As a precautionary measure, Lorenzo di Pierfrancesco de’ Medici decided that in order to dissociate himself from the previous regime, he would change his name from Medici to Popolani (that is, ‘of the people’). But there were some who were beyond such cosmetic measures. From the very day when news spread that Piero de’ Medici had fled the city, the mobs gathered, bent on revenge, and went in search of his chief henchmen. The house of Piero’s financial fixer Miniati was ransacked for cash and then burned to the ground, along with that of several other leading Medici supporters. But Miniati himself and his cronies managed to escape and went on the run within the city as best they could. According to Guicciardini, ‘although they had hidden in churches and convents, [they] were eventually taken prisoner to the gaol’.5 Luckily for them they were arrested by the authorities, or they would certainly have been torn limb from limb by the mob. There was a mood for swift and murderous vengeance throughout the city and, in the attempt to assuage this, the authorities gave in to popular feeling. Landucci recorded in his diary:
12th December (Friday). Antonio di Bernardo di Miniato [Miniati] was hanged in the morning, from a window of the Casa del Capitano;fn1 and his body remained hanging there until 24 in the evening [8 p.m.].6
But the mob were in no mood to be so easily appeased and began baying for more executions of Piero’s henchmen. The Twenty caved in, and according to Guicciardini:
They decided that Ser Giovanni, the government notary, should suffer the same fate. He was widely hated and a man of little worth. But Savonarola came to his rescue, preaching from his pulpit that the time for justice was over and instead it was now a time for mercy.7
Savonarola was now well into his series of Advent sermons, which were being delivered at the cathedral to such vast crowds that ‘there were always 13 or 14 thousand people at his sermons’,8 and these were beginning to act on his every word. As early as 6 December, the diarist recorded how Savonarola had:
preached and ordered that alms should be given to the Poveri Vergognosifn2 … These were collected the following day, on Sunday. Indeed, so much was given that it was not possible even to estimate its value. These alms consisted of gold and silver, woollen and linen materials, silks and pearls and all manner of other things. Everyone gave so much out of love and charity.
When Savonarola saw how the Twenty had been willing to follow his recommendation of mercy for Ser Giovanni, he began to sense the true extent of his power. The fate of Florence would be decided during the coming free elections and he was now determined to have his say. On 14 December, Savonarola:
did all he could in the pulpit to convince the people of Florence to adopt a good form of government … he preached in some detail about matters of State, and that we must love and fear God, and love good government; and that no one should set himself up proudly above the people. He always favoured the people.
By this stage Savonarola had made it clear that ‘he did not want any women to attend his sermons’. He was addressing his words to the enfranchised male population who could attend a parlamento, and he wanted as many of these as possible to be present. If Landucci’s estimate of the numbers attending his sermons at this time is correct, it means that a large majority of those who could vote were now in attendance.
In the last of Savonarola’s Advent sermons before Christmas he demanded that Christ should be declared King of Florence. The administration duly ordered the striking of a coin with the Lily of Florence on one side and on the other the words ‘Jesus Christus Rex Noster’9 (Jesus Christ Our King). From now on, Florence would be the ‘City of God’. Yet even at this stage Savonarola’s main concern appeared to be with the spiritual governance of the people; although he left no doubt as to his views on civil governance, political matters were ultimately to be left to the voters themselves. The freest elections in Florence that anyone could recall were now set to take place, and with Savonarola’s apparent blessing; he went so far as to declare, ‘the one form of government that suits us is a civil, collective government’, though he did admonish his congregation of voters: ‘May real misfortune strike you, if you choose a tyrant to crush and oppress everybody.’ Elections had been promised, but what precise form these would take had yet to be worked out. The difficulties here were formidable. As Villari points out, after so many years of corrupt government:
the people no longer saw themselves as a democratic body, and lacked all confidence in themselves. This made the organization of any new government exceedingly difficult … None of the old Republican forms of government were in any way suited to the present situation. As well as lacking the necessary aptitude, the people had no gifted leaders to guide them through the difficult but essential task of forming a new constitution.10
The obvious choice of a leader would have been Piero Capponi, but many were of the opinion that although:
Piero Capponi had won immortality by his defiance of Charles VIII and all his powerful court, he lacked the necessary qualities and patience of a statesman. When brave action was required, and he could draw his sword, he was in his element; yet his ability to sit quietly in his cloak and hood listening to endless nit-picking debates over matters of constitution was quite beyond him.
Discussions concerning a new constitution continued at the Palazzo della Signoria, and Savonarola was called in several times for consultation. In his sermons he had let it be known that he was in favour of a Great Council, which would elect the gonfaloniere a
nd the Signoria, as well as all senior posts in the administration, would approve all laws and embark upon a reform of the tax system. Membership of this Great Council would be open to all citizens who qualified for elected posts in the administration – by tradition this included any male over twenty-nine years old who paid taxes, or whose family had in the past provided a senior member of the administration. Desite such restrictions, the council’s actual membership would consist of ‘one-fifth of the male population over twenty-nine’12 – initially some 3,200 people. In order that the assembly should retain its democratic nature without being too unwieldy, this larger group was divided into three, with each third serving for six months in turn. At the same time, ‘to encourage the young and incite older men to virtue’,13 every three years a further sixty men not eligible to vote would be selected for the Great Council. Despite its limitations, this institution introduced by Savonarola would make the government of Florence comparable with an independent city state in Ancient Greece – arguably the first of its kind in a major European city for more than 1,800 years.
If anything, the Great Council was an improvement on its classical counterparts – as found, for instance, in ancient Athens – for it would prove more efficient in its operation. Although such government was far from being democratic in the modern sense, ‘it so broadened the number of citizens who could take part in the making of laws and in elections to public offices that it was regarded then as a governo populare [populist government]’.14
As ever, politics remained an explosive issue. Landucci recorded how during his Advent sermons Savonarola
went on discoursing about State matters, and great fear was felt lest the citizens should not agree. Chi la volava lesso e chi arrosto (One wished it boiled another roast): i.e. everyone had a different opinion, one agreed with the Frate [Savonarola], and another was against him; and if it had not been for him there would have been bloodshed.15
Death in Florence: the Medici, Savonarola and the Battle for the Soul of the Renaissance City Page 26
