Né pur chi de’ suoi vizi si vergogni.”[145]
We find in his youthful productions, says Villari, “both vigor and poetic talent, but united with negligence of form.” Later in life, he wrote numerous spiritual lauds, composed for the purpose of counteracting and taking the place of the degrading carnival songs in vogue under the Medici. As poetry, they possess no special merit. Villari mentions several of his canzoni, written when he was a young man, and cites one in praise of S. Catherine of Negri, in three long stanzas of fifteen lines each, in which he finds great delicacy and exquisite tenderness of feeling. He also refers to some of his Latin compositions modelled on the Psalms, which are eminently poetical. In one of them, he celebrates the praises of God, saying: “I sought thee everywhere, but found thee not. I asked the earth, Art thou my God? and I was answered, Thou deceivest thyself: I am not thy God. I asked the air, and was answered, Ascend still higher. I asked the sky, the sun, the stars, and they all answered me, He who made me out of nothing, he is God; he fills the heavens and the earth; he is in thy heart. I then, O Lord, sought thee far off, and thou wast near. I asked my eyes if thou hadst entered by them, and they answered, We know colors only. I asked the ear, and was answered that it knew sound only. The senses, then, O Lord, knew thee not; thou hast entered into my soul, thou art in my heart, and thou makest manifest thyself to me when I am performing works of charity.”
Owing to his terribly earnest denunciation of pagan excesses in poetry and painting, and his indignation at their imitation by Christians, Savonarola has been held up as the enemy of both poets and poetry, and this even in his own day. To this charge he replied in his work on The Division and Utility of all the Sciences, one part of which treats of poetry. We select a few of its points. He begins:
“It never entered my mind to say a word in condemnation of the art of poetry. I condemned solely the abuse which many had made of it, although I have been calumniated on that account by many persons, both in speaking and writing.... The essence of poetry is to be found in philosophy. If any one believe that the art of poetry teaches us only dactyls and spondees, long and short syllables, and the ornaments of speech, he has certainly fallen into a great mistake.... The object of poetry is to persuade by means of that syllogism called an example, expressed with elegance of language, so as to convince and, at the same time, to delight us. And as our soul has supreme delight in song and harmony, the ancients contrived the measures of versification, that, by such means, men might be more readily excited to virtue. But measure is mere form; and the poet may produce a poem without metre and without verse. This, in fact, is the case in the Holy Scriptures, in which our Lord makes true poetry consist in wisdom; true eloquence in the spirit of truth; hence, our minds are not occupied with the outward letter, but are filled with the spirit.” ... He then goes on to denounce “a fallacious race of pretended poets, who know no better than to tread in the footsteps of the Greeks and Romans; keep to the same form, the same metre; invoke the same gods, nor venture to use any other names or words than those they find in the ancients.... This is not only a false poetry, but one most pernicious to youth. We find the heathens themselves condemning such poets. Did not Plato himself declare that a law ought to be passed to expel those poets from the city who, by the allurements of the most corrupting verses, contaminate everything with vile lusts and moral degradation? What, then, are our Christian princes about? Why do they not issue a law to expel from their cities not only these false poets, but their works also, and all the works of ancient authors who have written on libidinous subjects and praise false gods? It would be well if all such works were destroyed, and none were allowed to remain except such as excite to virtuous conduct.”
It is on such passages as these that Savonarola’s enemies base their charges of enmity to poetry, etc. The charges are unfounded. His æsthetic opinions were in harmony with the purest principles of art, and his sense of the true and the beautiful was always acute. “In what does beauty consist?” he asks, in one of his sermons. “In colors? No. In figures? No. Beauty results from harmony in all the parts and colors. This applies to composite subjects; in simple subjects, beauty is in light. Look at the sun and the stars—their beauty is in light; behold the spirits of the blessed—light constitutes their beauty; raise your thoughts to the Almighty—he is light and is beauty itself. The beauty of man and woman is greater and more perfect the nearer it approaches to the primary Beauty. But what, then, is this beauty? It is a quality resulting from a due proportion and harmony between the several members and parts of the body. You would never say that a woman was handsome because she had a fine nose and pretty hands; but when her features harmonize. Whence comes this beauty? Inquire, and you will find it is from the soul.”
Addressing himself to women, he said: “Ye women who glory in your ornaments, in your head-dresses, in your hands, I tell you that you are all ugly! Would you see true beauty? Observe a devout person, man or woman, in whom the Spirit dwells—observe such an one, I say, while in the act of prayer, when the countenance is suffused with divine beauty, and the prayer is over. You will then see the beauty of God reflected in that face, and a countenance almost angelic.”
We have thus endeavored, in referring to Savonarola’s acquirements, and by presenting him to our readers in a variety of mental aspects, to convey some idea of the moral, intellectual, and æsthetic sides of his character, in order that, as the story of his life and the account of the exciting incidents with which it is filled progress in our pages, they may be the better able to appreciate his action by at least a partial knowledge of his spiritual constitution and mental resources. We resume, then, the thread of our narrative.
THE SERMON AT BOLOGNA.
Savonarola preached his usual course of Lenten sermons in 1493, not at Florence, but at Bologna. His correspondence with his brother friars at S. Mark’s during his absence shows that he had gone there unwillingly, and it is hence supposed that Piero de’ Medici had brought about his absence through orders from his superiors at Milan and at Rome. The friar confined his preaching to subjects of doctrine and morals, and at the outset attracted but little public attention. The beaux esprits set him down as “a poor simpleton, a preacher for women”—uomo semplice e predicatore da donne. But his animation and sincerity were contagious, and hearers soon came in crowds. The tyrant Giovanni Bentivoglio then ruled Bologna, and his wife, an Orsini, appeared at all the sermons, entering late, and followed by a large retinue of gentlemen, pages, and ladies—gentildonne e damizelle. The silent rebuke of stopping short in his sermon until the disturbance thus caused had subsided was tried by the preacher several times in vain. He then referred to the disedification given by such interruptions, and mildly requested that ladies who came to hear the sermon should endeavor to be present at its beginning. In response, the haughty woman made a point of continuing the annoyance with offensive and increased ostentation, until one morning, when thus breaking in upon the friar while in all the fervor of his discourse, his patience gave way, and he cried out: Ecco, ecco il demonio che viene ad interrompere il verbo di Dio—“Behold the demon who comes to interrupt the word of God!” All the blood of all the Orsinis boiled over at this public insult. A reigning princess to be thus treated by a mere frate! As the story runs, she ordered two of her attendants to slay him in the pulpit; but whether their courage failed them, or the crowd would not permit them to reach the friar, they did not carry out their order. Still enraged, she sent two other satellites to his cell, where Savonarola received them with such dignity and impressive calmness that their resolution oozed away, and they said with great respect: “Our lady has sent us to your reverence to know if you had need of anything.” To which suitable and courteous reply being made, they were dismissed. In his closing sermon at Bologna, the preacher announced: “This evening I shall depart for Florence with my slender staff and wooden flask, and I shall sleep at Pianoro. If any person want aught of me, let him come before I set out. My death is not to be celebrated at Bologna, but elsewhere.”
The legend runs that it was on this journey, when near to Florence, that Savonarola, unable to take any food and broken with fatigue, sank by the roadside, powerless to go further. Quickly there came to him the vision of an unknown man, who, giving him strength, accompanied him to the city gate, and disappeared, saying: “Remember that thou doest that for which thou hast been sent by God.” Each reader will decide for himself as to the degree of credibility to be attached to such a legend. Certain it is, nevertheless, that Savonarola himself and many men of the strongest minds of that day fully believed in it.[146]