R. Nisbet Bain - The Cambridge Modern History

The passionate hatred which Savonarola had excited may seem hard to explain. It was otherwise with Sant’ Antonino, who had laboured not less earnestly in the field of morality and religion, or with San Bernardino, who had found favour both with Guelf and Ghibelline. Saints are not necessarily unpopular. The cause may, perhaps, be sought in Savonarola’s self-assertion, in his perpetual use of the first person, in the reiteration of all that he had done for Florence, of all the prophecies that had been fulfilled or were to be fulfilled, at the expense of those who would not listen. Whoever will force himself to read one of his more emphatic sermons from an opponent’s point of view may find the key to the final verdict of the city. The child had grown into the man. Savonarola had striven to break the wings of the foul bird, and the bird had struck him with its talons; he had lifted his rod to part the waters, and the Red Sea had overwhelmed him.

The fascination which Savonarola exercised is almost as living to-day as it was when his congregation sat spell-bound round him. The object of these pages has been to discuss his influence upon political and constitutional history; but this is only one aspect of his career and to himself the least important. He was, perhaps, no skilled statesman, no wise political leader; but, as a spiritual force whose influence long survived him, he has had few equals. Those who would study this side of his character must leave the chroniclers, the despatches of ambassadors, and the biographies, and turn to his letters, his sermons, and his tracts. His zeal for righteousness, his horror of sin, his sympathy for the poor, his love of children appeal to the earnest and loving of all ages. There is little question that for most foreigners, certainly for those of the English-speaking race, the very thought of Florence centres in Dante, the exile of Ravenna, and in Savonarola, the alien of Ferrara.

BY the year 1512 the downfall of the Florentine Republic was complete. Her failure was due to a variety of causes. A form of government which had worked satisfactorily while remaining outside the general stream of European politics, proved incapable of readjustment to novel conditions, and became an anachronism, more and more discredited as time went on. The character of the Florentine constitution rendered almost impossible any continuity of aim or persistence in policy. The Signoria changed every two months: the Dieci della guerra, who had de facto the largest control over foreign politics, changed every six months. No State could repose confidence in a government, in which political secrets could not be kept and where it appeared impossible to fix responsibility on anyone. From time to time efforts were made at Florence to remove this source of weakness, and the appointment in 1502 of a Gonfaloniere holding office for life seemed to many men, including Machiavelli, to have at last furnished some real guarantee for a stable policy. Not only, however, was the notion of a permanent official at variance with the theories of political liberty accepted at Florence, but the new Gonfaloniere, Piero Soderini, was in reality unequal to his position, and maintained his authority only at the cost of much unnecessary friction. He was firm only in his allegiance to France. Louis XII on his part was indifferent to the real interests of the city, though ready to make what use he could of Florentine assistance in his Italian expeditions. When the French were ultimately forced to withdraw from Italy, Florence was left isolated and impotent.

It was not merely the inherent defects of her constitution that weakened Florence; in the city itself there was never during these years any real union. The death of Savonarola neither removed the causes of internal discontent, nor mitigated the animosity of faction. The quarrels of individuals and of parties rendered it difficult to maintain order in the city or to conduct the daily business of government. The adherents of the Medici family were numerous, rich, and unscrupulous, and in the end proved successful. They were ready at any moment to cooperate with any foreigner or Italian, who might be an enemy of the Republic. The result was to create general distrust, and to render impossible any combined effort on a large scale.

A city so situated could only maintain its independence, if its military strength supplied more than a counterpoise to its constitutional weakness. An adequate army and trustworthy commanders were indispensable, and Florence possessed neither. The practice of hiring professional soldiers was general in Italy, and was adopted at Florence. It became the cause of incalculable evil. Not only was the city liable to be deserted or betrayed, even during a battle, by her mercenary troops, but the system necessarily involved a vast outlay of public money and a heavy taxation. By 1503 the financial crisis had in consequence become so acute that it was necessary to levy a tithe upon all real property. The evil was mitigated, but not removed, by the military reforms of 1506. Machiavelli, who carried into effect the new system, though the idea did not originate with him, was able, by means of his indomitable diligence and enthusiasm, to muster a force of about 5000 citizen soldiers; but in the end they proved to be of little service.

Florence was, moreover, set in the midst of many and great enemies. In the North, Ludovico il Moro at Milan, whether as open enemy or insidious friend, did what he could to damage the State, until he was taken prisoner by the French in 1500 and finally disappeared from Italian history. Venice had long ago abandoned her traditional policy and been seeking to acquire an inland empire, and, until the battle of Agnadello in 1509 crushed her power, harassed and impeded the Florentines at every turn. At Rome both Alexander VI and Julius II were indifferent or hostile to Florentine interests, and Cesare Borgia was believed, probably with reason, to include among his designs the incorporation of Tuscany with his other conquests. And besides the opposition of the larger Italian States, Florence had during this period to struggle against the hostility of nearly all the smaller towns in her neighbourhood. Pisa in particular was a source of endless trouble. From 1494, when Pisa, thanks to Charles VIII, threw off the Florentine dominion and became a free State, until 1509, Florence was at war with her; and any other Power, whose object was to damage Florence, was sure to intervene from time to time in the struggle.

To meet the dangers which threatened them from outside and the embarrassments and perplexities within the city, the Florentines possessed no statesmen of commanding ability or acknowledged pre-eminence, and no generals with real military genius. There were skilful diplomatists and mediocre captains in abundance, and even men who, like Antonio Giacomini and Niccolo Capponi, might under more favourable conditions have proved efficient commanders; but, speaking broadly, at Florence, as in most cities of Central Italy, intellect had outrun character, and the sterner virtues were almost unknown. The “corruption” of which Machiavelli complained so often and so bitterly, was to be found everywhere; and, though its effects were naturally most obvious in the military class, it was equally a source of weakness in the political world. The defensive attitude which was forced upon the city by the movements of the larger European Powers, and the constant vigilance and diplomatic manoeuvring necessary to combat the shifting designs of Italian neighbours, prevented any elevation of view, and rendered inevitable the employment of all the familiar resources of small and weak States in extremis.