Death in Florence: the Medici, Savonarola and the Battle for the Soul of the Renaissance City

by Paul Strathern

  With regards to prophecy, I have absolutely never made any claim to be a prophet. However, it would not be heresy were I to do so, for I have foretold things that have already come to pass, and the other things I have foretold will be proven true when they come to pass in the future.5

  His most elaborate and pedantic arguments were reserved for his rebuttal of the papal Brief’s claims concerning the separation of the Lombardy and Tuscan Congregations. Savonarola insisted that this separation had not been the result of ‘the exhortations of certain deceitful friars’, as it had come about through the intervention of Cardinal Caraffa, the Cardinal Protector of the Dominican order. (Cardinal Caraffa’s subterfuge, and then slipping the ring from the pope’s finger – which certainly involved deceit, and arguably extortion too – were not mentioned, although Savonarola would certainly have been informed of what had happened.) Furthermore, he went on to argue, although the move for separation may have been instigated by the Dominicans of San Marco, they could hardly be stigmatised as ‘deceitful friars’ when they were known far and wide for their exemplary piety. Not least, Savonarola contended that it was definitely unjust to appoint the Vicar General of the Lombardy Congregation to head an inquiry into his behaviour, for Vicar General Maggi was known to have become his sworn enemy as a result of the separation. Ridolfi summarises Savonarola’s extraordinary conclusion:

  Thus the accusations made against him were exposed as nothing but low slander. And for this reason, he indicated that he would take no action in accord with these superior orders until His Holiness, recognising his innocence, absolved him from all blame in this matter.6

  This last ‘indication’ was certainly dangerous. However, Savonarola was playing on the fact that Alexander VI’s unwarranted interference in the affairs of the Dominicans was liable to cause deep ructions within the Church hierarchy. In consequence, immediately after finishing his reply to the pope, he wrote to Cardinal Caraffa, as head of the order, pleading for his support in this matter and claiming:

  I am well aware of who is behind all these lies about me, and understand that they are the work of perverse citizens who wish to re-establish tyranny in Florence.7

  Savonarola was confident that his arguments would win the day. So much so, that he now took matters into his own hands. Regardless of his insistence in his letter that he had always been submissive to the wishes of the Church, he defied the order in the papal Brief banning him from preaching by delivering a sermon on Sunday 11 October. This was followed by another the next Sunday. Savonarola’s motives for this action appear to have been to forestall his enemies. He had almost certainly heard from Rome (probably by way of Cardinal Caraffa) that Alexander VI had now covertly chosen to support the Medici cause and was backing a possible coup. The central messages of Savonarola’s sermons were both specious and directly political. First, he claimed that he had written to the pope and that his position had been resolved. He then advised the citizens of Florence that it was necessary to take immediate measures against the Arrabbiati, who were plotting against him, and to defend themselves against an imminent Medici coup. Now, instead of urging Florentines to forgive their enemies, he deliberately incited them to violence: ‘The time for mercy is past, it is time you took up your swords … cut off the head of anyone who opposes the republic.’8 Later, he drove home his message with what was unmistakably a direct reference to Piero de’ Medici: he urged the citizens of Florence to behave like the Ancient Romans when faced with the traitors who sought to overthrow the republic and restore Tarquin as their king: ‘Cut off his head, even though he be head of his family, cut off his head!’

  Yet by the time he came to preach a third sermon, on Sunday 25 October, his entire attitude had undergone a transformation. This time he bade his congregation farewell, adding cryptically: ‘Pray to God that I will be inspired when the time comes for me to preach once more.’9 Savonarola had somehow received advance warning of what was about to take place. In a Brief from Alexander VI dated 16 October (which at the time of the sermon was still on its way from Rome to Florence), the pope had stated unequivocally:

  We command you, by virtue of your vow of obedience, to cease preaching forthwith, both in public and in private, until such time as you are able to present yourself before us.10

  This time there was no mistaking the author, the authority or the authenticity of the papal Brief (though in accord with protocol, it was once again signed by Floridi, to whom it would have been dictated). Alexander VI was determined to silence Savonarola. Yet why did he not officially excommunicate him?

  Alexander VI now found himself facing the possibility of a serious threat to his very papacy itself. It had become clear that Charles VIII was once again considering the possibility of leading the French army into Italy, and this time he would not hesitate to depose Alexander VI at the first opportunity. Savonarola had remained in contact with Charles VIII, and had in fact written to him during the summer, urging him to do just this. Savonarola remained convinced that Charles VIII represented the ‘scourge of God’ and, should he fail to act in his appointed capacity, or behave in a manner not worthy of this role, God would not fail to punish him, as he had pointed out to the king personally when he had prevented him from sacking Florence.

  As a result of this new threat, Alexander VI had decided to pursue a different policy in Italy, one that was no longer so reliant upon the Holy League, which was already showing signs of falling apart. His long-term aim would be to try and lure France into an alliance. This would be a difficult task, but it seemed the best hope to enable him to realise his political ambitions – or, indeed, to remain in power. And for this he would need the goodwill of Savonarola. Any attempt to excommunicate the ‘little friar’ would have upset both the people of Florence and Charles VIII, who still looked upon Savonarola as his friend. However, by taking the minor step of forbidding him from preaching, for disobeying the order in the previous papal Brief, Alexander VI knew that he was well within his rights. In fact, such a response would have been expected of him, in order to maintain his authority as pope: neither the people of Florence nor Charles VIII could have expected less. By silencing Savonarola, Alexander VI knew that he would be rendering him virtually ineffective. Savonarola’s power – over the people and his followers within the Church – lay above all else in his oratory.

  During the ensuing months, Alexander VI found himself under considerable pressure to rescind his order silencing Savonarola, especially if he wished to gain the favour of Charles VIII. In consequence, when both the Florentine ambassador and Cardinal Caraffa once more pressed him to sign an order permitting Savonarola to start preaching again early in 1496, Alexander VI let it be known verbally that Savonarola could go ahead and preach the coming Lenten sermons. However, he refused to sign any document to this effect: Savonarola’s licence was thus limited, and open to immediate denial.

  Carnival time, in the run-up to Lent, was traditionally a period of boisterous celebration in Florence. This was when Lorenzo the Magnificent had laid on his most elaborate and excessive entertainments, such as the bawdy dramas for which he had composed rhymes like ‘The Song of the Peasants’ (‘We’ve all got cucumbers, and big ones too …’). The activities of Carnival stemmed from the pre-Christian pagan festivals of Ancient Rome, and their true meaning had long since been lost in time. According to traditional custom, the citizens put on fancy dress and wore masks, roaming the streets and participating in wild revelries, often involving obscene ditties and lewd antics. Bonfires would be lit, around which men and women would perform bacchanalian dances. Barriers would be erected at the entrances to the different neighbourhoods, and any who wished to pass would be subjected to rude personal questions and coerced into paying ‘customs’ money. Things sometimes went too far during the ritual stone-throwing fights between gangs of boys from rival districts, when participants would frequently suffer ugly wounds, cracked skulls and even, on occasion, be killed. Many respectable citizens felt that these ‘celebrati
ons’ were now getting dangerously out of control, and Savonarola latched onto this sentiment, organising a systematic campaign aimed at stamping out such ‘unchristian’ behaviour.

  To do this, he made use of boys between the age of twelve and eighteen. In preparation for the traditional Christian rite of passage that confirmed full membership of the Church, allowing participants to take Holy Communion, the young men of Florence would be required to attend religious classes. Here they would learn their catechism, the questions and answers they would be expected to remember for the confirmation ceremony. Savonarola realised that these classes presented a unique opportunity to organise the youth of Florence into a strong religious force capable of combating the excesses of Carnival. He instructed the friars from San Marco who gave these classes to win over their charges to the simple faith that he preached in his sermons. Ideal candidates for such radicalising zeal, these impressionable adolescent boys soon became enthusiastic converts to Savonarola’s brand of fundamentalism. They were then organised into groups, clad in white for purity, and sent out into the Carnival streets with the aim of preventing any excesses. Altars, complete with crucifix and candles, were set up at the main city crossroads, where the boys sang hymns, encouraging the passers-by to stop and join in with them. Stealing a march on the revellers, they also set up their own street barriers, where instead of ridiculing those who sought to pass and bullying them into giving money, they would humbly seek alms for the poor. And by contrast with the gangs who roamed the streets looking for stone-throwing fights with their neighbourhood rivals, ‘Savonarola’s boys’ knocked on doors collecting items for charity.

  Landucci, ever the upright citizen, recorded with pride that ‘some of my sons were amongst those blessed and pure-minded troops of boys’.11 In his diary, he described an incident involving Savonarola’s boys during Carnival and the reaction it provoked:

  Some boys took it upon themselves to confiscate the veil-holder of a girl walking down the Via de’ Martegli, and her family created a great uproar about it. This all took place because Savonarola had encouraged the boys to oppose the wearing of unsuitable ornaments by women.12

  Savonarola also encouraged similar high-handed action towards the gamblers that he detested, ‘so that whenever anyone said, “Here come Savonarola’s boys!”, all the gamblers fled, no matter how rough they were’. Likewise, the ‘little friar’ had it in for his favourite abomination, which remained so popular in Florence: ‘The boys were so respected that everyone foreswore evil practices, and most of all the abominable vice. Such a thing was never mentioned by young or old during this holy time.’ The ‘abominable vice’ to which Landucci here refers was sodomy, which was widely practised throughout the city at this time on both men and women – by young men because of the unavailability of young women, who were required to remain virgins until they were married, and by husbands who wished to prevent their wives from producing a ruinous number of children. At Savonarola’s request, one of the first meetings of the Great Council in December 1494 had passed a new law imposing the death-penalty for sodomy. Yet despite Savonarola’s strictures, the city refrained from any mass burning at the stake of sodomites: over the coming three years just one man would be condemned, and he ‘was also said to be an infamous thief and bandit, for which the penalty was also death’.13 As Lauro Martines puts it: ‘Even in the face of a strong commitment to the Friar, Florence had too much political wisdom to witch-hunt active homosexuals and sodomised women.’14 Yet this might be seen as the exception that proved the rule. In so many other spheres, Savonarola’s coercion to religious fundamentalism was growing ever more effective.

  Despite these puritanical constraints, Savonarola’s repression was evidently felt by many to be nothing compared to the repression from which the more democratic ‘City of God’ had relieved its citizens. Instead of the subtly pervasive and corrupting repression of Lorenzo the Magnificent and the Medici party enforcers, the people were seemingly liberated by their new-found holiness. As Landucci put it: ‘God be praised that I saw this short period of holiness. I pray that he may give us back that holy and pure life … what a blessed time it was.’ Although there was definitely some reaction against ‘Savonarola’s boys’ when they launched their campaign during the pre-Lenten Carnival of 1496, Landucci’s pious sentiments were undoubtedly echoed by a large number of his fellow citizens.

  He paints a vivid picture of what took place on Shrove Tuesday 1496, the day before the beginning of Lent, when in previous years the raucous behaviour had reached its traditional climax:

  16 February. The Carnival. A few days earlier Savonarola had preached against such stupid Carnival traditions as gangs of boys throwing stones at each other and building camps out of twigs. Instead, he said that they should be out collecting alms for the poveri vergognosi [the destitute]… So instead of erecting barriers in the streets, the boys behaved like holy innocents, holding up crucifixes at street corners. As this was the last day of Carnival, after Vespers the bands of boys assembled in their four quarters of the city, each bearing its own special banner … They marched accompanied by drummers and pipers, accompanied by the official mace bearers and servants of the Palazzo della Signoria, singing praises to heaven, all bearing olive branches in their hands. This sight moved many good and respectable citizens to tears … In all, some six thousand boys or more, all between the ages of five and sixteen, are said to have taken part.15

  These four processions came together at the Ospedale degli Innocenti.fn2 This joint procession then wound its way through the entire city, singing hymns and collecting items for charity, stopping off at various major locations – including many of the city’s best-known churches, such as Savonarola’s San Marco, before crossing the river to the Oltrarno, returning across the Ponte Vecchio and proceeding to the cathedral. Indicatively absent from this itinerary was the Palazzo Medici, which would certainly have been a stopping-off point for any such city processions during the previous decades – an unsurprising omission, given the circumstances, yet one that would have been of profound and moving significance to all: the times had changed, and those days were over.

  The lengthy hymn-singing procession must have taken well over an hour, possibly two, if it stopped at all the places dutifully listed by Landucci in his diary. Likewise, the long route must have been seen by a large percentage of the population of Florence – who either lined the routes or looked down from their windows – many of whom would, under normal circumstances, have spent the day revelling. Although not all the people of Florence were in favour of this new development, no serious incidents such as barricading the streets or stone-throwing were recorded by contemporary sources.

  When the procession reached the cathedral:

  the church was packed out with men and women, divided with the women on one side and the men on the other, and here the offering was made, with such faith and tears of holy emotion as ever witnessed. Around several hundred florins must have been collected. Many gold florins were put into the collecting bowls, but mostly it was in small copper coins and silver. Some women gave their veil-holders, some their silver spoons, handkerchiefs, towels, and all kinds of other things. It seemed as if everyone wanted to make an offering to Christ and His Mother. I have set down these things because they are true, and I did see them with my own eyes, at the same time experiencing great emotion.

  Although the last sentence has the feel of a subsequent addition, its message would only seem to confirm the extraordinariness of what Landucci felt he was experiencing on this day. Once more, the most civilised city in Europe was ahead of its time. This was a revolution, no less – the first in the dawn of the modern era. In this aspect, Savonarola can be seen as being the precursor of a tradition that would go on to produce such figures as Luther, Cromwell, Robespierre, even Lenin. And it is not difficult to see in Savonarola embryonic elements of all these figures – just as it is not difficult to see in Landucci’s ecstatic words (‘what a blessed time it was …’ etc.) a p
resentiment of Wordsworth’s celebrated stanza on the French Revolution:

  Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,16

  But to be young was very heaven! …

  Next day, Ash Wednesday 1496, Savonarola delivered his first Lenten sermon in the cathedral before a congregation packed to overflowing:

  steps for Savonarola’s boys were set up along the walls, opposite the chancel behind the women … and all the boys on the steps sang sweet praises to God before the sermon began. And then the clergy entered the chancel and began singing the Litanies, to which the boys responded. It was all so beautiful that everyone wept, even the most reserved men amongst them, saying: ‘This is a thing of the Lord.’17

  Many have considered Savonarola’s Lenten sermons for 1496 as the finest he delivered. There is less of the extreme apocalyptic imagery of his early sermons, and instead he put forward arguments outlining his aims. In his opening sermon he saw a specific future involving those who had recently done so much to promulgate his ideas:

  In you, young men, I place my hope and that of the Lord. You will govern the city of Florence, for you are not prone to the evil ways of your fathers, who did not know how to get rid of their tyrannical rulers or appreciate God’s gift of liberty to his people.18

  He also dealt with the unresolved matter of his relations with the Church, resorting once more to skilful intellectual argument:

  I have written to Rome explaining that if by accident I have in some way written or preached anything which is heretical … I am prepared to apologise and unreservedly withdraw anything that I have said. I will always submit to the rule of the Church.