Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Rev. I. T. Hecker, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C.
[JEROME SAVONAROLA.]
PART THIRD.
“For neither in our own age nor in those of our fathers and grandfathers has any ecclesiastic been known to be so richly endowed with virtues, on whom so great reliance could be placed, or who enjoyed a greater degree of authority. Even his opponents admit him to have been a man of vast learning in numerous branches.... This was especially the case in respect of the Holy Scriptures, and in the knowledge of which it is a general belief that there had not existed for ages any one at all his equal. He evinced a profound judgment, not only in literature, but in the ordinary affairs of life.... The confidence he inspired was marvellous.”—Guicciardini, Storia Inedita di Firenze.
“ ... Of such a man one ought never to speak but with reverence.”—Machiavelli, Discorsi.
Charles VIII. crossed the Alps at the head of an army of 22,000 infantry and 24,000 cavalry—admirably armed and appointed for that period. They had thirty-six cannons, of which the wonder was related that they were drawn by horses, the guncarriages having four wheels, two of which could be detached when they went into battery. To these forces were to be joined those of Ludovico the Moor, Duke of Milan, who had specially urged the coming of Charles. To such an army as this, the Italians feared that all the armies of Italy, even if they could be consolidated, could offer no effectual resistance. They were in wretched condition, both as to men and commanders, and the famous condottieri had degenerated into mere consumers of pay and rations.
Under the able diplomacy of Lorenzo, the most friendly relations had been cultivated with France, and Charles VIII. was inclined to treat Tuscany more as an ally than an enemy. But Piero, with characteristic ineptness, manifested a preference for Naples, and alienated the French king. The indignation of the Florentines was intense when they found that Piero’s course was likely to bring an army of invasion within their walls; for the French advance was already marked by the brutal massacres of the people of Rapallo and Fivizzano after the garrisons had surrendered. Having separated his cause from that of the citizens, and without men and means to oppose the French, the frightened Piero set out for the king’s camp to sue for peace. Charles had yet to pass on his way to Florence three strongholds, Sarzanello, Sarzano, and Pietra Santa, any one of which with a small force could hold a powerful army in check. When Piero reached the French lines, Charles had been besieging Sarzanello for three days without success. The invaders were in a barren country, shut in between the mountains and the sea. In point of fact, they were poorly commanded; the French king himself was a model of stupid indolence and neglect, and they might easily have been driven back in confusion. And yet the panic-stricken Piero, without consulting the ambassadors who accompanied him, immediately yielded to all the conditions demanded by Charles, and even more; for he surrendered at once the three formidable fortresses, besides those of Pisa and Leghorn, and agreed, moreover, to a forced loan of 200,000 ducats from Florence. The fortresses thus given up had been gained by long sieges and enormous sums of money, and were the military keys of Tuscany. Naturally enough, the news of their surrender aroused the Florentines to anger, which was intensified by what they heard from the ambassadors of the conduct of Piero. Excitement spread throughout the city. All business was suspended. Groups in the public places soon swelled to crowds. Fierce and angry-looking men were seen bearing weapons but partially concealed. Daggers were brandished that had not seen the light of day since the Pazzi conspiracy. Artisans of all trades, and in particular the ciómpi, the strong-armed wool-combers, abandoned their workshops, recalling their former triumphs under Michele di Lando in the days of the republic. But the old friends of popular liberty among the higher classes had, during the past sixty years, all melted away in exile or persecution, and there was every excess and atrocity to be feared from an enraged multitude just freed from servitude, and making no concealment of their threats against those who had become wealthy and powerful by oppressing them. Such crowds as these raged through the streets of Florence, when a sermon from Savonarola was announced at the Duomo. A dense mass of people soon filled it, and Savonarola from his place looked down on a human powder-magazine in which the smallest spark in shape of an imprudent word would create explosion and spread dire disaster. If “turbulent, priestly demagogue” there were, this was the moment and this the place to find him.
What said Savonarola?
Not a word of their complaints or their wrongs, past or present; not the slightest allusion to Piero or to the Medici; but, bending over the pulpit with outstretched arms, and looking into the mass of upturned faces with gaze of affection and expression of tenderest sympathy, he poured out words of peace, union, and charity: “Behold, the sword has descended, the scourges have commenced, the prophecies are being fulfilled; behold the Lord, who is leading on those armies. O Florence! the time for music and dancing is at an end: now is the time for pouring out rivers of tears over your sins. Thy crimes, O Florence! thy crimes, O Rome! thy crimes, O Italy! are the cause of these chastisements. Behold, then, give alms, offer up prayers, be a united people. O my people! I have been to thee as a father; I have labored throughout my life to make thee know the truth of faith, and how to lead a good life, and have met with nothing but tribulation, scorn, and opprobrium. I might have had this compensation at least, that I might have seen thee performing some good deeds. My people, have I ever shown any other desire than to see thee in safety, to see thee united? Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand. But that I have said many times. I have so often cried out to thee, I have so often wept for thee, O Florence! that it might have sufficed thee. I turn, then, to thee, Lord; pardon this people, who desire to be thine.” He then went on enjoining charity and faith with an energy overflowing more with affection than eloquence, and the crowd who entered the Duomo a raging multitude, left it in peaceful procession.