” And he stopped his
poor mule, which seemed relieved at the command.
poor mule, which seemed relieved at the command.
Warner - World's Best Literature - v26 - Tur to Wat
He pressed her close in his arms, and I
saw tears in his eyes too; he stretched out his hand to me and
became paler than usual. She spoke softly to him, and her
long blonde tresses fell on his shoulder; her twist had become
undone, like a cable which unrolls suddenly. That hair — if you
had seen it! it was like gold.
"As they still spoke low, the young man kissing her brow
,
from time to time, and she weeping, I grew impatient. Well,
does that suit you? I said at last. But — but, captain, you
are very good;' said the husband, but - you could not live with
deported convicts he lowered his eyes.
«T,' said I, do not know what you have done to be exiled;
but you shall tell me some day if you choose, or you shall not
if you choose. You do not seem to me to have a very heavy
conscience; I am very sure that I have done much more in my
life than you, poor innocents! For instance, as long as you are
under my guard, I shall not let you go: you need not expect
it; I would sooner cut your throats as I would two pigeons. But
(
## p. 15348 (#296) ##########################################
15348
ALFRED DE VIGNY
(
my child?
>
once my epaulet removed, I know no longer either admiral or any.
thing else.
«What I am thinking is,' he replied, sadly shaking his brown
head, slightly powdered as it was still worn in those days, that
it would be dangerous for you, captain, to seem to know us.
We
laugh because we
are so young; we seem to be happy because
we love each other: but I have some ugly moments when I
think of the future, and I do not know what will become of
my poor Laure. ' He again pressed the young wife's head to his
breast. (That was what I should say to the captain, was it not,
Would you not have said the same thing ? ?
"I took my pipe and got up; for I began to feel my eyes
growing moist, and that was not becoming to me.
«Come, come! ' I said: that will all be cleared up after a
while. If the tobacco is unpleasant to madame, her absence will
be necessary. She arose, her face all on fire and wet with tears,
like a child that has been scolded.
« And yet,' she said, looking at my clock, you two do not
think about it that letter! ?
"I felt as if something had struck me. I had a kind of pain
up
under
my
hair when she said that to me.
(Pardieu! I did not think of it,' I said. Ah, here indeed
is a pretty affair! If we have passed the first degree north, all
I can do is to throw myself overboard! ' I must be lucky: that
child reminded me of that devilish letter!
"I looked quickly at my marine map; and when I saw that
there was still a week ahead of us, my head felt easier, but not
my heart, - I could not tell why.
«It is because the Directory does not joke about the article
obedience! ' I said. "Good!
once more afloat this time.
Time few so quickly that I had entirely forgotten it. '
“Well, sir, we remained all three with our noses in the air,
looking at that letter as if it were going to speak to us. What
struck me very much was that the sun, which slipped in through
the skylight, lit up the glass of the clock, and made the big red
seal and the other little ones seem like features of a face in
the midst of fire.
« Would not one say that the eyes were starting from his
head? ) I said to amuse them.
««Oh! my friend,' said the young woman, “it looks like blood
stains. '
-
I am
(
## p. 15349 (#297) ##########################################
ALFRED DE VIGNY
15349
(c
« « Bah! bah! ' said her husband, laying her arm in his, you
are mistaken, Laure: it looks like a card of announcement of
a marriage. Come and rest yourself, come: why let that letter
bother you ? '
“They went off. I remained alone with that big letter; and
I remember that while smoking my pipe, I continued to look at
it, as if those red eyes had attached mine to them by drawing
them ever as do the eyes of a serpent.
« The night was more beautiful than any I had ever seen in
my life so near the tropics The moon rose on the horizon as
large as a sun; the sea cut it in half, and became all white, like
a cloth of snow covered with little diamonds. I was glad to hear
nothing. I love silence and order. I had forbidden all noises
and all fires. Nevertheless I perceived a small red line almost
under my feet. I should have got into a temper instantly; but as
it was in the cabin of my little convicts, I wished to be sure of
what they were doing before I grew angry. I had only to bend
down: I could see through the big hatchway into the little room,
and I looked. The young wife was on her knees praying. A
small lamp threw its light on her. I thought I would slip away,
but I said, 'Bah! an old soldier, what does it matter? ' And
I remained to see. While she prayed, her husband took the
ends of her long hair and kissed them noiselessly. When she had
.
finished she made the sign of the cross, with the air of going to
paradise. She got up, kissed him, and stretched herself in the
hammock, into which he had tossed her without saying a word,
one sets a child on a seesaw. There was a choking heat:
with pleasure she felt herself swinging with the motion of the
vessel, and seemed to begin to fall asleep. My friend,” said she,
half asleep, are you not sleepy? Do you know that it is very
late?
"On a beautiful morning I awoke, astonished to feel no motion
of the vessel. We had fallen in a dead calm, and it was on the
first degree of north latitude and the twenty-seventh of longi-
tude. I poked my nose out: the sea was as smooth as a bowl of
oil. The sails, all spread, fell glued to the masts like empty bal-
loons. I said quickly, “I've got time enough before me yet to
read you,' looking sideways at the letter. I waited till sundown
that night. But it had to come: I opened the clock and quickly
took out the sealed order. Well, my dear sir, I held it there for
a quarter of an hour before I could make up my mind to read it.
as
.
## p. 15350 (#298) ##########################################
15350
ALFRED DE VIGNY
me
At last I said, “This is too much! ) and I broke the three seals
with one thumb-stroke; and the great red seal I ground into dust.
After I had read it I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was mistaken. I
re-read the letter, entirely; I read it over again; I began it again
at the last line, and went up to the first. I did not believe it.
My legs trembled a little under me; I sat down; I felt a twitch-
ing of the skin on my face; I rubbed my cheeks a little with
rum, and I poured some in the hollow of my hands, and I pitied
myself for being such a fool: but it was only an affair of a
moment. I went up into the open air. Laurette was so pretty
that day that I did not want to go near her: she wore a little
white dress quite simple, her arms bare to the shoulder, and her
long hair hanging as she always wore it.
“I made a sign to the young man to come and speak to me
on the quarter-deck behind. She turned. I do not know how I
looked, but — she took him by the arm violently, and said, “Oh!
do not go: he is so pale! '
"He came, though, close to on the quarter-deck; she
looked at us, leaning against the great mast. We walked to and
fro for a long time without speaking. I was smoking a cigar,
which I found bitter, and I spat into the water. He followed
me with his eyes; I took his arm: I was choking; on my word
of honor I was choking.
« Ah, here! ' I said to him, tell me something of your his-
tory, my little friend. What in the devil have you done to those
dogs of lawyers there, setting themselves up like the King's five-
franc pieces? They seem to have a bad grudge against you.
It's funny! '
“He shrugged his shoulders, hanging his head (with such a
sweet air, the poor boy), and said to me:
“O my heavens, captain! no great thing, I assure you:
three couplets of vaudeville on the Directory, that is all. '
“Impossible! ' I said.
«O my God, yes! The couplets were not even very good,
I was arrested the 15th Fructidor, and conducted to La Force;
condemned first to death, then through benevolence to exile. '
« It is curious,' I said. (The Directeurs are very susceptible
comrades; for that letter, you know, gives me the order to shoot
(
you. "
"He did not answer, but smiled, putting a good enough face
on it for a young man of nineteen. He only looked at his wife,
## p. 15351 (#299) ##########################################
ALFRED DE VIGNY
15351
>
C
see me.
and wiped his forehead, from which great drops of sweat fell.
had fully as many on my face, and other drops in my eyes.
“I began again: -
« It seems to me those citizens did not wish to do this busi-
ness on land: they thought that here it would be kept more
quiet. But it is very hard on me, my. child; for though you are
a good child, I cannot but obey. The sentence of death is there
all regular and correct, the order of execution signed with flour-
ish and seal. Nothing has been left out. '
"He bowed to me politely, blushing.
«I ask for nothing, captain,' he said in a voice as sweet as
usual. 'I should be distressed to make you fail in your duty. I
only want to speak a little with Laure, and pray you to protect
her in case she should survive me, which I do not believe she
will. )
« Oh, as for that, it's all right, my boy: if it does not dis-
please you, I shall take her to her family on my return
France, and I shall only leave her when she no longer cares to
But to my mind, you may flatter yourself that she will
never recover from that stroke, poor little woman! '
« (My brave captain, you will suffer more than I in what
remains for you to do, I feel sure; but what can we do? I may
count upon you to keep for her all that belongs to me, to pro-
tect her, to see that she receives what her old mother may leave
her, may I not? - to guarantee her life, her honor? And also
to see that her health is cared for. See, I must tell you further
that she is very delicate,' he added in a lower voice: (her chest
is often affected so that she faints many times a day; she must
always wrap herself well. But you will replace her father, her
mother, and me, as much as possible, will you not? If she could
keep her rings, which her mother gave her, I should be very
glad. But if it is necessary to sell them for her, it must be
done. My poor Laurette! •see how beautiful she is. '
“I pressed his hand as a friend; but he still held mine, and
looked at me in a curious way.
« (Look here: if I have any advice to give you,' I added, it
is not to speak to her about it. We will arrange the thing so
that she shall not know it, or you either, be sure of that: that
concerns me. '
“Ah! that is different,' said he: I did not know. That
would be better indeed. Besides, good-bys, good-bys, they
weaken one. '
## p. 15352 (#300) ##########################################
15352
ALFRED DE VIGNY
(
“Yes, yes,' I said to him, 'do not be a child: it is better so.
Do not embrace her, iny friend; do not embrace her if you can
help it, or you are lost. '
“It seemed to me that he did not keep the secret well; for
they walked arm in arm during a quarter of an hour.
"Night came all of a sudden. It was the moment I had
resolved to take. But that moment has lasted for me up to this
day, and I shall drag it after me all my life, like a ball. ”
oh,
« They
Here the old commandant was forced to stop. I was careful
not to speak, for fear of turning the course of his ideas; he
began again, striking himself on the breast:-
(That moment, I tell you - I cannot yet understand it. I felt
a fury seizing me by the hair; and at the same time I do not
know what made me obey, and pushed me on. I called the offi.
cers, and said to one of them, Come, a skiff overboard, as we are
now executioners! You will put that woman into it, you will take
her farther and farther away until you hear gun-shots! Then
you will return. ' To obey a piece of paper! for after all, that
was what it came to. There must have been something in the
air which pushed me on.
I saw from afar the young man
it was horrible to see — kneel before his Laurette, and kiss her
knees, her feet.
« These small boats hold six men,” he continued.
threw themselves into it, and carried Laure off with them, with-
out her having time to cry, or speak. Oh! there are things for
which no honest man can console himself if he has caused them.
There is no use in saying one forgets such things.
"I was speaking to you still, I think, of the little Laurette!
Poor woman! How stupid some men are in this world! The
officer was fool enough to steer the boat before the brig. After
this, it is right to say we cannot foresee everything. I counted
upon night to hide the business; and •I did not count upon the
light of twelve guns fired all at once. And, ma foi! from the
boat she saw her husband fall into the sea, shot.
“If there is a God up there, he knows how what I am going
to tell you happened; as for me, I do not know, but it was seen
and heard, as I see and hear you. At the moment of the shot
she raised her hand to her head as if a ball had struck her
brow, and sat in the boat without fainting, without crying, with-
out speaking, and returned to the brig when they wanted, and as
they wanted. I went to her, and spoke to her for a long time,
## p. 15353 (#301) ##########################################
ALFRED DE VIGNY
15353
and as well as I could. She seemed to listen to me, and looked
me in the face, rubbing her forehead. She did not understand,
and her brow was red, and her face all pale. She trembled all
over as though afraid of every one. That trembling remains
still with her. She is still the same poor little one: idiot, or
imbecile, or crazy, as you choose. Never has a word been drawn
from her, except when she asks to have taken out what she has
in her head.
“From that moment I became as sad as she; and I felt some-
thing in me that said to me, “Stay by her the rest of your
days, and take care of her. ' I have done it. When I returned to
France, I asked to pass with the same rank into the land troops;
having a hatred to the sea, because I had thrown into it inno-
cent blood. I sought for Laure's family. Her mother was dead.
Her sisters, to whom I took her insane, would have none of her,
and proposed to put her into Charenton. I turned my back on
them, and kept her with me.
“Ah! my God, comrade, if you wish to see her, it rests only
with yourself. "
“Is she in there? ” I asked.
«Certainly, here! Wait! ho! ho! mule.
” And he stopped his
poor mule, which seemed relieved at the command. At the same
time he raised the oilcloth of his little cart, as if to arrange the
straw which almost filled it; and I saw something very painful.
I saw two blue eyes, large beyond measure, admirable in shape,
looking out of a pale emaciated face, inundated with straight
light hair. She looked at us a moment, trembled, smiled faintly
at me. I noticed with astonishment that on her long fingers she
had two diamond rings.
»
## p. 15354 (#302) ##########################################
15354
PASQUALE VILLARI
(1827-)
T has been said that the history of any given nation can be
clearest understood and best written by a member of that
nation, as obviously fitted by temperament to enter into
that sympathy with the past which is the first requisite of the his-
torian. The truth of this is exemplified in the case of Pasquale Vil-
lari, a modern Italian historian, whose noted lives of Savonarola and
of Machiavelli owe their value as much to the author's comprehension
of the Italian temperament as to his thorough and extensive scholar-
ship. The first volume of the Life and Times of Savonarola' was
published in 1859, the second in 1861. In writing this history, Villari
had to deal with one of the most complex periods of Italian develop-
ment, when the Renaissance was approaching its zenith, introducing
into European life the elements out of which the modern world was
to be formed. Like other transitional periods, it was fraught with
much that seems inexplicable and contradictory, even to a far-removed
generation; furthermore, Villari had to treat of a character concern-
ing the estimate of whose place and work in the world a historian
might easily go astray. Savonarola in his perfect simplicity is one of
the most unintelligible figures of history, when regarded, as is usually
the case, as a mediæval friar of a profound and mystic devotional
genius. Villari does not question the genius, but he places Savonarola
where he belongs, in the modern and not in the medieval world.
“It cannot be denied that he had the spirit of an innovator; and indeed,
the main purpose of our work has been to insist on this point. Savonarola
was the first to raise the standard announcing the uprisal of the truly original
thought of the Renaissance at the close of the great epoch of humanistic learn-
ing. He was the first man of the fifteenth century to realize that the human
race was palpitating with the throes of a new life; and his words were loudly
echoed by that portion of the Italian people still left untainted by the prev-
alent corruption. He accordingly merits the title of prophet of the new civil-
ization.
Columbus discovered the paths of the sea, Savonarola those of
the soul;
he endeavored to conciliate reason with faith, religion with
liberty. His work may be ranked with that of the Council of Constance, of
Dante Alighieri, of Arnaldo of Brescia: he aspired to the reform of Christian-
ity and Catholicism that has been the constant ideal of the greatest minds of
Italy. ”
## p. 15355 (#303) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15355
Villari thus renders an enormous service to the life and work of
Savonarola. Seen in this light, the Dominican friar of San Marco
becomes the embodiment of the better elements of the Renaissance;
he perished because his environment was chiefly made up of the
lower elements of that great growth in the direction of the new
world. A Florence leavened by the Medici surrounded the prophet.
Villari has described this environment with wonderful penetration,
using the slightest details as explanatory of the central figure. For
these reasons his 'Life of Savonarola' is pre-eminent among the other
biographies of the great Dominican.
In his Niccolo Machiavelli and His Times,' he approaches his
subject in the same rational and sympathetic manner. The first
volume of this work is devoted to a survey of the principal Italian
States, — Milan, Florence, Venice, Rome, and Naples, — of the politi-
cal condition of Italy at the end of the fifteenth century, and of the
literature of the period. In this way he prepares the reader for a
comprehension of the character of Machiavelli, by the comprehen-
sion of the social and political conditions which produced him. In
his own words, he studied Machiavellism before Machiavelli. ) His
estimate of the great politician is singularly original and striking: he
proceeds upon the assumption that Machiavelli's noted maxim, “The
end justifies the means," was but a corollary to a much more com-
prehensive principle,-namely, that the whole is greater than the
parts; that the welfare of society is of more importance than the wel-
fare of the individual. He first points out that the political and social
state of the Italy of Machiavelli's time was directly productive of the
theories of statecraft embodied in The Prince. ) "All private rela-
tions were ruled by Christian morality, or at all events professed
unquestioning adherence to its precepts; but it was forsaken in pub-
lic life, where it was supposed to have no practical value. Good
faith, loyalty, and Christian goodness would have subjected to cer-
tain destruction any prince or government that should have actually
obeyed their dictates in political matters. The State would have cer-
tainly fallen a prey to the enemy; would perhaps have dissolved
into anarchy. ” Machiavelli “clearly saw that statecraft has ways
and means of its own, which are not the ways and means of private
morality: that on the contrary, the morality of private life may some-
times check a statesman in mid-career, and render him vacillating,
without his being either a good or a bad man; and that it is mainly
vacillation of this kind that leads to the downfall of States. There
must be no vacillation, he said, but a daring adoption of the meas-
ures demanded by the nature of events. Such measures will always
he justified when the end is obtained. And the end in view must
be the welfare of the State. He who obtains this, if even he be a
>>
## p. 15356 (#304) ##########################################
15356
PASQUALE VILLARI
wicked man, may be condemned for his wickedness; but as a prince
he will deserve everlasting glory. . . . Such is the true meaning of
Machiavelli's maxim, that the end justifies the means.
Villari con-
cludes his history by demonstrating that Machiavelli's conception of
Italy's needs was essentially a true one.
.
>>
«Italy had become incapable of a religious reformation like that accom-
plished in Germany. Instead of springing towards God, as Savonarola had pre-
dicted; instead of seeking strength in a new conception of faith, she aimed at
a recomposition of the idea of the State and the motherland. She saw in the
sacrifice of all to the universal good the only possible way of political and
moral redemption. The unity of the regenerated country would have inevitably
led to the re-establishment of morality; would have rekindled faith in public
and private virtue, and discovered a method of sanctifying the purpose of life.
This idea, vaguely and feebly felt by many, was the ruling thought of Machi-
avelli. . . . At the present day, when Italy's political redemption has begun,
and the nation is constituted according to the prophecies of Machiavelli, the
moment has at last come for justice to be done to him. ”
Villari himself has had that acquaintance with public affairs which
is invaluable to the historian. Born in Naples in 1827, he became
involved in the revolutionary movement which broke out in Naples in
1848, and took refuge in Florence. His exile proved of great benefit
to him as a historian, his researches in the archives of the city lead-
ing him to write the histories of Savonarola and Machiavelli. After
the publication of the former work, the chair of modern history in the
University of Pisa was bestowed upon him.
In 1862 he published a
work on Latin and English Civilization'; in 1877 the first volume, and
in 1882 the second volume, of Niccolo Machiavelli) were published.
Critical Essays' appeared in 1876, and Art, History, and Philosophy
in 1884. He also wrote political pamphlets, some of which had great
popularity. In 1866 he was sent to the Italian Parliament by the elect-
ors of Arezzo, but he did not become prominent as a politician. He
is now professor of modern history in the Florentine Institute; he is
also a member of the Superior Council of Public Instruction.
(The Life of Savonarola) and (Niccolo Machiavelli? have been
translated into English by the wife of Villari. The style of these
works is clear, forcible, and in the best sense popular.
## p. 15357 (#305) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15357
SAVONAROLA
From (Life and Times of Girolamo Savonarola)
SAY
AVONAROLA was of middle height, of dark complexion, of a
sanguineo-bilious temperament, and of a most high-strung
nervous system. His dark gray eyes were very bright, and
often flashed fire beneath his black brows; he had an aquiline
nose and a large mouth. His thick lips were compressed in a
manner denoting a stubborn firmness of purpose; his forehead,
already marked with deep furrows, indicated a mind continually
absorbed in meditation of serious things. But although his
countenance had no beauty of line, it expressed a severe nobility
of character, while a certain melancholy smile indued his harsh
features with so benevolent a charm as to inspire confidence at
first sight. His manners were simple, if uncultured; his language
rough and unadorned. But on occasion his homely words were
animated by a potent fervor that convinced and subdued all his
hearers.
While in the monastery of St. Dominic he led a silent life,
and became increasingly absorbed in spiritual contemplation. He
was so worn by fasting and penance that when pacing the clois-
ters, he seemed more like a spectre than a living man. The
hardest tests of the novitiate seemed light to him, and his supe-
riors were frequently obliged to curb his zeal. Even on days
not appointed for abstinence he scarcely ate enough to support
life. His bed was a grating with a sack of straw on it and one
blanket; his clothing of the coarsest kind, but strictly clean; in
modesty, humility, and obedience he surpassed all the rest of the
brethren. The fervor of his devotion excited the wonder of the
superiors, and his brother monks often believed him to be rapt
in a holy trance. The cloister walls seemed to have had the
effect of restoring his peace of mind by separating him from the
world, and to have purified him of all desires save for prayer and
obedience.
In the year 1481, serious alarms of war were threatening Fer-
rara from all sides. Already many of the inhabitants had fled,
and before long the university in which the Dominicans taught
theology was closed. Thereupon, either from economy or as a
measure of precaution, the superior of the order dispatched the
a
## p. 15358 (#306) ##########################################
15358
PASQUALE VILLARI
greater part of his monks elsewhere. Savonarola was directed
to go to Florence; he thus bade a last farewell to his family,
friends, and native town,- for he was destined never to see them
again.
On this, his first arrival in Florence, in 1481, he entered the
monastery of St. Mark, where the brightest and also the saddest
years of his life were to be passed. And inasmuch as the name
of Savonarola is always associated with that of St. Mark, it will
be well to say a few words on the convent's history.
At the beginning of the fifteenth century it was a poor, half-
ruined building, inhabited by a few monks of the order of St.
Sylvester, whose scandalous life occasioned numerous complaints
to be laid before the Court of Rome. Finally, Cosimo the Elder
obtained the papal permission to remove these monks elsewhere,
and granted the house to the reformed Dominicans of the Lom-
bard congregation. Then, deciding to rebuild it, he charged the
celebrated architect, Michelozzo Michelozzi, with the work; and
six years later, in 1443, the monastery was finished at a cost of
36,000 forins. Cosimo was never sparing of expense for churches,
monasteries, and other public works fitted to spread the fame of
his munificence and increase his popularity. While the convent
was in course of erection, he had been very generous in helping
the Dominicans; and now that the work was so successfully com-
pleted, he was not satisfied until he could endow them with a
valuable library. This, however, was a difficult undertaking and
one of considerable expense; since it was a question of collecting
manuscripts, which just then commanded exorbitant prices.
the opportune decease of Niccold Niccoli, the greatest manuscript-
collector in Europe, enabled Cosimo to fulfill his purpose. Nic-
coli had been one of the most learned men of his day, and spent
his whole life and fortune in acquiring a store of codices that
was the admiration of all Italy. He had bequeathed this treas-
ure to Florence; but having also left many debts behind him, 'his
testamentary dispositions had not been carried out. Accordingly
Cosimo paid off the debts; and reserving a few of the more pre-
cious codices for himself, intrusted the rest of the collection to
the monastery of St. Mark. This was the first public library
established in Italy; and the monks kept it in such excellent
order as to prove themselves worthy of the charge. St. Mark's
became almost a centre of erudition; and being joined to the
## p. 15359 (#307) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15359
congregation of the Lombard Dominicans, the more learned
brothers of the order resorted to Florence, and increased the
new convent's renown. The most distinguished men of the time
frequently came to St. Mark's to enjoy conversation with the
friars. It was during these years that Fra Giovanni da Fiesole,
better known as Fra Beato Angelico, was employed in covering
the convent walls with his incomparable works. But above all
their treasures of art and learning, the brethren chiefly gloried in
their spiritual father and founder, St. Antonine.
During his first days in Florence, Savonarola was accordingly
half intoxicated with delight. He was charmed by the smiling
landscape, the soft lines of the Tuscan hills, the elegance of the
Tuscan speech. Even before reaching the town, the gentle man-
ner of the country-folk he met on the way had predisposed him
to expect happiness in this fairest of Italian cities, where art and
nature contend for the palm of beauty. To his deeply religious
mind, Florentine art seemed the expression of a divine harmony,
a proof of the omnipotence of genius when inspired by faith.
The paintings of Fra Angelico appeared to have filled the clois-
ters of St. Mark with a company of angels; and as he gazed
upon them, the friar felt transported into a blessed sphere like
unto the world of his dreams. The sacred memories of Anto.
nine; the saint's deeds of charity, still enduring and still vener-
ated by the brotherhood; the friars themselves, so superior in
culture and refinement to any that he had yet known,- all com-
bined to make him believe his lot cast among real brethren of the
soul. His heart expanded with ingenuous hopes; he forgot all
past disappointments, and did not anticipate the still sadder trials
awaiting him when he should have been long enough in Florence
to understand better the nature of its inhabitants.
At the time of Savonarola's coming, Lorenzo the Magnificent
had reigned in Florence for many years, and was then at the
height of his power and fame. Under his rule all things wore
an air of prosperity and well-being. The factions which had so
frequently distracted the city had long been extinguished; all
refusing to bend beneath the Medicean yoke were either impris-
oned, exiled, or dead: and general tranquillity reigned. Con-
tinually occupied with festivities, dances, and tournaments, the
Florentines, once so jealous of their rights, seemed now to have
forgotten the very name of freedom.
## p. 15360 (#308) ##########################################
15360
PASQUALE VILLARI
After the first few days in Florence, Savonarola was again
oppressed by a feeling of isolation. Intimacy with the inhabit.
ants quickly betrayed the confirmed skepticism and flippancy
hidden beneath their great intellectual culture. The general
absence of principle and faith once more threw him back upon
himself; and his disgust was all the greater in consequence of
the lofty hopes with which he had entered Florence. Even
among the brethren of St. Mark's there was no real religious
feeling; for although the name of St. Antonine was so often on
their lips, it was uttered in a vainglorious rather than a loving
spirit. But above all, his indignation was aroused by the much-
vaunted studies of the Florentines. It was a new and horrible
experience to him to hear them wrangling over the precepts of
Plato and Aristotle, without caring or even perceiving that from
party spirit, and in the heat of discussion, they were denying
the most essential principles of the Christian faith. Accordingly
he began from that moment to regard all these men of letters,
erudites, and philosophers, with a sort of angry contempt; and
this feeling increased in strength to the point of often leading
him to disparage the very philosophy in which, by many years of
strenuous labor, he was himself so thoroughly versed.
But in no case would it have been possible for him to have
long retained the sympathy of the Florentines, inasmuch as they
were held apart from the newly arrived friar by an irreconcilable
diversity of temperament. Everything in Savonarola came from
the heart; even his intellect was ruled by its generous impulse:
but his manners and speech were rough and unadorned. He
spoke with a harsh accent, expressed himself in a homely way,
and made use of lively and almost violent gesticulations. Now,
the Florentines preferred preachers of scholarly refinement of
gesture, expression, and style, able to give an unmistakable imi-
tation of some ancient writers and copious quotations from others:
as to the gist of the sermon, they cared little about it; often
indeed conferring most praise on the speaker who allowed them
to see that he had little belief in religion. Savonarola, on the
contrary, thundered forth furious diatribes against the vices of
mankind, and the scanty faith of clergy and laity; he spoke dis-
paragingly of poets and philosophers, condemned the strange
craze for ancient authors, and quoting from no book save the
Bible, based all his sermons on its texts. Now, there were few
## p. 15361 (#309) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15361
Florentines who read the Bible at all; since, finding its Latin
incorrect, they were afraid of corrupting their style.
Having entered the convent of St. Mark towards the end of
1481, the following year Savonarola was charged by the friar
with the instruction of the novices, and applied himself to the
task with his accustomed zeal. Continually dominated by the same
mystic enthusiasm, he constantly exhorted his pupils to study
the Scriptures; and often appeared among them with tear-swollen
eyes, and wrought almost 'to ecstasy by prolonged vigils and fer-
vid meditation.
He retained his modest post of lecturer to the novices, up to
the Lent of 1486, when he was sent to preach in various cities
of Lombardy, and especially in Brescia. Here, with the Book of
Revelation for his theme, he found it easier to stir the sympa-
thies of his hearers. His words were fervent, his tone command-
ing, and he spoke with a voice of thunder; reproving the people
for their sins, denouncing the whole of Italy, and threatening all
with the terrors of God's wrath. He described the forms of the
twenty-four elders, and represented one of them as rising to
announce the future calamities of the Brescians. Their city, he
declared, would fall a prey to raging foes; they would see rivers
of blood in the streets; wives would be torn from their husbands,
virgins ravished, children murdered before their mothers' eyes:
all would be terror and fire and bloodshed. His sermon ended
with a general exhortation to repentance, inasmuch as the Lord
would have mercy on the just. The mystic image of the elder
made a deep impression upon the people. The preacher's voice
seemed really to resound from the other world; and his threat-
ening predictions awakened much alarm. During the sack of
Brescia in 1512 by the ferocious soldiery of Gaston de Foix,-
when, it is said, about six thousand persons were put to the
sword,- the inhabitants remembered the elder of the Apocalypse
and the Ferrarese preacher's words.
The great success of these Lenten sermons at last made the
name of Savonarola known to all Italy, and decided the course
of his life: for henceforward he no longer doubted his mission.
Yet such was the goodness and candor of his nature, that self-
confidence only made him more modest and humble. His ardor
for prayer, his faith and devout exultation, rose to so great a
height, that as his companion, Fra Sabastiano of Brescia, says,
Savonarola, when engaged in prayer, frequently fell into a trance;
XXVI--961
## p. 15362 (#310) ##########################################
15362
PASQUALE VILLARI
after celebrating mass, was so transported with holy fervor as
to be obliged to retire to some solitary place; and a halo of light
was often seen to encircle his head.
Savonarola remained in Lombardy until the January of 1489,
and during that period wrote to his mother from Pavia a long
and most affectionate letter. In this he begs her to forgive him
if he has nothing but prayers to offer to his family, since his
religious profession precludes him from helping them in other
ways; but he adds that in his heart he still shares their sorrows
and their joys. “I have renounced this world, and have become
a laborer in my Master's vineyard in many cities, not only to
save my own soul, but the souls of other men. If the Lord
has intrusted the talent to me, I must needs use it as he wills;
and seeing that he hath chosen me for this sacred office, rest ye
content that I fulfill it far from my native place, for I bear
better fruit than I could have borne at Ferrara. There it would
be with me as it was with Christ, when his countrymen said, 'Is
not this man a carpenter, and the son of a carpenter ? ' But out
of my own place this has never been said to me; rather, when I
have to depart, men and women shed tears, and hold my words
in much esteem. I thought to have written only a few lines;
but love hath caused my pen to run on, and I have opened my
heart to you far more than was my purpose. Know, then, that
this heart of mine is more than ever bent on devoting soul and
body, and all the knowledge granted to me by God, to his sery-
ice and my neighbors' salvation; and since this work was not
to be done in my own land, I am fain to perform it elsewhere.
Encourage all to righteous living. I depart for Genoa this day. ”
Of Savonarola's preachings in Genoa nothing is known to
But we know that in the summer of 1489 he was suddenly
recalled by his superiors to Florence, and strangely enough, at
the express desire of Lorenzo de' Medici. The prince made the
request in order to gratify his favorite friend, Pico della Miran-
dola, who had earnestly pressed him to do so.
In the Lent of 1491 Savonarola preached in the Duomo, and
his voice echoed for the first time within the walls of Santa
Maria del Fiore. From that moment he would seem to have
become paramount in the pulpit, and master of the people; who
flocked to hear him in increasing numbers, and with redoubled
enthusiasm. The friar's imagery enchanted the popular fancy;
his threats of coming chastisement had a magical effect upon the
us.
## p. 15363 (#311) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15363
He was
minds of all, for it truly seemed that all were already oppressed
by evil presentiments. His recently published writings likewise
assured his influence over distinguished men who had hitherto
stood hesitatingly aloof; but this did not prevent him from con-
demning, in the plainest and most decided terms, the skepticism
and corruption of the most celebrated literati of the time.
All this naturally caused much annoyance to Lorenzo de'
Medici, and roused the hostility of his friends.
already styled a tyrant by many, and universally charged with
having corrupted the magistrates, and appropriated public and
private funds. Therefore it was plain that the friar had dared
to make allusion to him. Nevertheless this audacity served to
increase Savonarola's fame, and in the July of 1491 he was
elected Prior of St. Mark's. This new office, while raising him
to a more prominent position, also gave him greater independ-
ence. He at once refused to conform to an abuse that had been
introduced in the convent: namely, that the new prior must go to
pay his respects, and as it were do homage, to the Magnificent.
"I consider that my election is owed to God alone,” he said,
"and to him alone will I vow obedience. » Lorenzo was deeply
offended by this, and exclaimed, “You see! a stranger has come
into my house, yet he will not stoop to pay me a visit. ” Never-
theless, being reluctant to wage war with the prior of a convent,
or attach too much importance to a monk, he sought to win him
over by kindness. He went several times to hear mass in St.
Mark's, and afterwards walked in the garden; but Savonarola
could not be persuaded to leave his studies in order to bear him
company. When the friars ran to tell him of Lorenzo's presence,
he replied, “If he does not ask for me, let him go or stay at his
pleasure. ”
He was very severe in his judgment of Lorenzo's
character; and knowing the harm wrought on public morals by
the prince, had no wish to approach a tyrant whom he regarded
not only as the foe and destroyer of freedom, but as the chief
obstacle to the restoration of Christian life among the people.
Lorenzo then began to send rich gifts and generous alms to the
convent. But this naturally increased Savonarola's previous con-
tempt for his character. And he alluded to the circumstance in
the pulpit, when saying that a faithful dog does not leave off
barking in his master's defense, because a bone is thrown to
him. Nevertheless, soon after this he found a large sum of
money in gold in the convent alms-box; and persuaded that
## p. 15364 (#312) ##########################################
15364
PASQUALE VILLARI
(C
Lorenzo was the donor, immediately sent it all to the congrega-
tion of the good men of St. Martin for distribution among the
poor, saying that silver and copper sufficed for the needs of his
brethren. Thus, as Burlamacchi remarks, Lorenzo was at last
convinced that this was not the right soil in which to plant
vines. ”
But Lorenzo refused to be checked by this rebuff; and pres-
ently sent five of the weightiest citizens in Florence to Savon-
arola, in order to persuade him to change his behavior and
manner of preaching, by pointing out the dangers he was incur-
ring for himself and his convent. But Savonarola soon cut short
their homily by saying, "I know that you have not come of your
own will, but at that of Lorenzo.
saw tears in his eyes too; he stretched out his hand to me and
became paler than usual. She spoke softly to him, and her
long blonde tresses fell on his shoulder; her twist had become
undone, like a cable which unrolls suddenly. That hair — if you
had seen it! it was like gold.
"As they still spoke low, the young man kissing her brow
,
from time to time, and she weeping, I grew impatient. Well,
does that suit you? I said at last. But — but, captain, you
are very good;' said the husband, but - you could not live with
deported convicts he lowered his eyes.
«T,' said I, do not know what you have done to be exiled;
but you shall tell me some day if you choose, or you shall not
if you choose. You do not seem to me to have a very heavy
conscience; I am very sure that I have done much more in my
life than you, poor innocents! For instance, as long as you are
under my guard, I shall not let you go: you need not expect
it; I would sooner cut your throats as I would two pigeons. But
(
## p. 15348 (#296) ##########################################
15348
ALFRED DE VIGNY
(
my child?
>
once my epaulet removed, I know no longer either admiral or any.
thing else.
«What I am thinking is,' he replied, sadly shaking his brown
head, slightly powdered as it was still worn in those days, that
it would be dangerous for you, captain, to seem to know us.
We
laugh because we
are so young; we seem to be happy because
we love each other: but I have some ugly moments when I
think of the future, and I do not know what will become of
my poor Laure. ' He again pressed the young wife's head to his
breast. (That was what I should say to the captain, was it not,
Would you not have said the same thing ? ?
"I took my pipe and got up; for I began to feel my eyes
growing moist, and that was not becoming to me.
«Come, come! ' I said: that will all be cleared up after a
while. If the tobacco is unpleasant to madame, her absence will
be necessary. She arose, her face all on fire and wet with tears,
like a child that has been scolded.
« And yet,' she said, looking at my clock, you two do not
think about it that letter! ?
"I felt as if something had struck me. I had a kind of pain
up
under
my
hair when she said that to me.
(Pardieu! I did not think of it,' I said. Ah, here indeed
is a pretty affair! If we have passed the first degree north, all
I can do is to throw myself overboard! ' I must be lucky: that
child reminded me of that devilish letter!
"I looked quickly at my marine map; and when I saw that
there was still a week ahead of us, my head felt easier, but not
my heart, - I could not tell why.
«It is because the Directory does not joke about the article
obedience! ' I said. "Good!
once more afloat this time.
Time few so quickly that I had entirely forgotten it. '
“Well, sir, we remained all three with our noses in the air,
looking at that letter as if it were going to speak to us. What
struck me very much was that the sun, which slipped in through
the skylight, lit up the glass of the clock, and made the big red
seal and the other little ones seem like features of a face in
the midst of fire.
« Would not one say that the eyes were starting from his
head? ) I said to amuse them.
««Oh! my friend,' said the young woman, “it looks like blood
stains. '
-
I am
(
## p. 15349 (#297) ##########################################
ALFRED DE VIGNY
15349
(c
« « Bah! bah! ' said her husband, laying her arm in his, you
are mistaken, Laure: it looks like a card of announcement of
a marriage. Come and rest yourself, come: why let that letter
bother you ? '
“They went off. I remained alone with that big letter; and
I remember that while smoking my pipe, I continued to look at
it, as if those red eyes had attached mine to them by drawing
them ever as do the eyes of a serpent.
« The night was more beautiful than any I had ever seen in
my life so near the tropics The moon rose on the horizon as
large as a sun; the sea cut it in half, and became all white, like
a cloth of snow covered with little diamonds. I was glad to hear
nothing. I love silence and order. I had forbidden all noises
and all fires. Nevertheless I perceived a small red line almost
under my feet. I should have got into a temper instantly; but as
it was in the cabin of my little convicts, I wished to be sure of
what they were doing before I grew angry. I had only to bend
down: I could see through the big hatchway into the little room,
and I looked. The young wife was on her knees praying. A
small lamp threw its light on her. I thought I would slip away,
but I said, 'Bah! an old soldier, what does it matter? ' And
I remained to see. While she prayed, her husband took the
ends of her long hair and kissed them noiselessly. When she had
.
finished she made the sign of the cross, with the air of going to
paradise. She got up, kissed him, and stretched herself in the
hammock, into which he had tossed her without saying a word,
one sets a child on a seesaw. There was a choking heat:
with pleasure she felt herself swinging with the motion of the
vessel, and seemed to begin to fall asleep. My friend,” said she,
half asleep, are you not sleepy? Do you know that it is very
late?
"On a beautiful morning I awoke, astonished to feel no motion
of the vessel. We had fallen in a dead calm, and it was on the
first degree of north latitude and the twenty-seventh of longi-
tude. I poked my nose out: the sea was as smooth as a bowl of
oil. The sails, all spread, fell glued to the masts like empty bal-
loons. I said quickly, “I've got time enough before me yet to
read you,' looking sideways at the letter. I waited till sundown
that night. But it had to come: I opened the clock and quickly
took out the sealed order. Well, my dear sir, I held it there for
a quarter of an hour before I could make up my mind to read it.
as
.
## p. 15350 (#298) ##########################################
15350
ALFRED DE VIGNY
me
At last I said, “This is too much! ) and I broke the three seals
with one thumb-stroke; and the great red seal I ground into dust.
After I had read it I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was mistaken. I
re-read the letter, entirely; I read it over again; I began it again
at the last line, and went up to the first. I did not believe it.
My legs trembled a little under me; I sat down; I felt a twitch-
ing of the skin on my face; I rubbed my cheeks a little with
rum, and I poured some in the hollow of my hands, and I pitied
myself for being such a fool: but it was only an affair of a
moment. I went up into the open air. Laurette was so pretty
that day that I did not want to go near her: she wore a little
white dress quite simple, her arms bare to the shoulder, and her
long hair hanging as she always wore it.
“I made a sign to the young man to come and speak to me
on the quarter-deck behind. She turned. I do not know how I
looked, but — she took him by the arm violently, and said, “Oh!
do not go: he is so pale! '
"He came, though, close to on the quarter-deck; she
looked at us, leaning against the great mast. We walked to and
fro for a long time without speaking. I was smoking a cigar,
which I found bitter, and I spat into the water. He followed
me with his eyes; I took his arm: I was choking; on my word
of honor I was choking.
« Ah, here! ' I said to him, tell me something of your his-
tory, my little friend. What in the devil have you done to those
dogs of lawyers there, setting themselves up like the King's five-
franc pieces? They seem to have a bad grudge against you.
It's funny! '
“He shrugged his shoulders, hanging his head (with such a
sweet air, the poor boy), and said to me:
“O my heavens, captain! no great thing, I assure you:
three couplets of vaudeville on the Directory, that is all. '
“Impossible! ' I said.
«O my God, yes! The couplets were not even very good,
I was arrested the 15th Fructidor, and conducted to La Force;
condemned first to death, then through benevolence to exile. '
« It is curious,' I said. (The Directeurs are very susceptible
comrades; for that letter, you know, gives me the order to shoot
(
you. "
"He did not answer, but smiled, putting a good enough face
on it for a young man of nineteen. He only looked at his wife,
## p. 15351 (#299) ##########################################
ALFRED DE VIGNY
15351
>
C
see me.
and wiped his forehead, from which great drops of sweat fell.
had fully as many on my face, and other drops in my eyes.
“I began again: -
« It seems to me those citizens did not wish to do this busi-
ness on land: they thought that here it would be kept more
quiet. But it is very hard on me, my. child; for though you are
a good child, I cannot but obey. The sentence of death is there
all regular and correct, the order of execution signed with flour-
ish and seal. Nothing has been left out. '
"He bowed to me politely, blushing.
«I ask for nothing, captain,' he said in a voice as sweet as
usual. 'I should be distressed to make you fail in your duty. I
only want to speak a little with Laure, and pray you to protect
her in case she should survive me, which I do not believe she
will. )
« Oh, as for that, it's all right, my boy: if it does not dis-
please you, I shall take her to her family on my return
France, and I shall only leave her when she no longer cares to
But to my mind, you may flatter yourself that she will
never recover from that stroke, poor little woman! '
« (My brave captain, you will suffer more than I in what
remains for you to do, I feel sure; but what can we do? I may
count upon you to keep for her all that belongs to me, to pro-
tect her, to see that she receives what her old mother may leave
her, may I not? - to guarantee her life, her honor? And also
to see that her health is cared for. See, I must tell you further
that she is very delicate,' he added in a lower voice: (her chest
is often affected so that she faints many times a day; she must
always wrap herself well. But you will replace her father, her
mother, and me, as much as possible, will you not? If she could
keep her rings, which her mother gave her, I should be very
glad. But if it is necessary to sell them for her, it must be
done. My poor Laurette! •see how beautiful she is. '
“I pressed his hand as a friend; but he still held mine, and
looked at me in a curious way.
« (Look here: if I have any advice to give you,' I added, it
is not to speak to her about it. We will arrange the thing so
that she shall not know it, or you either, be sure of that: that
concerns me. '
“Ah! that is different,' said he: I did not know. That
would be better indeed. Besides, good-bys, good-bys, they
weaken one. '
## p. 15352 (#300) ##########################################
15352
ALFRED DE VIGNY
(
“Yes, yes,' I said to him, 'do not be a child: it is better so.
Do not embrace her, iny friend; do not embrace her if you can
help it, or you are lost. '
“It seemed to me that he did not keep the secret well; for
they walked arm in arm during a quarter of an hour.
"Night came all of a sudden. It was the moment I had
resolved to take. But that moment has lasted for me up to this
day, and I shall drag it after me all my life, like a ball. ”
oh,
« They
Here the old commandant was forced to stop. I was careful
not to speak, for fear of turning the course of his ideas; he
began again, striking himself on the breast:-
(That moment, I tell you - I cannot yet understand it. I felt
a fury seizing me by the hair; and at the same time I do not
know what made me obey, and pushed me on. I called the offi.
cers, and said to one of them, Come, a skiff overboard, as we are
now executioners! You will put that woman into it, you will take
her farther and farther away until you hear gun-shots! Then
you will return. ' To obey a piece of paper! for after all, that
was what it came to. There must have been something in the
air which pushed me on.
I saw from afar the young man
it was horrible to see — kneel before his Laurette, and kiss her
knees, her feet.
« These small boats hold six men,” he continued.
threw themselves into it, and carried Laure off with them, with-
out her having time to cry, or speak. Oh! there are things for
which no honest man can console himself if he has caused them.
There is no use in saying one forgets such things.
"I was speaking to you still, I think, of the little Laurette!
Poor woman! How stupid some men are in this world! The
officer was fool enough to steer the boat before the brig. After
this, it is right to say we cannot foresee everything. I counted
upon night to hide the business; and •I did not count upon the
light of twelve guns fired all at once. And, ma foi! from the
boat she saw her husband fall into the sea, shot.
“If there is a God up there, he knows how what I am going
to tell you happened; as for me, I do not know, but it was seen
and heard, as I see and hear you. At the moment of the shot
she raised her hand to her head as if a ball had struck her
brow, and sat in the boat without fainting, without crying, with-
out speaking, and returned to the brig when they wanted, and as
they wanted. I went to her, and spoke to her for a long time,
## p. 15353 (#301) ##########################################
ALFRED DE VIGNY
15353
and as well as I could. She seemed to listen to me, and looked
me in the face, rubbing her forehead. She did not understand,
and her brow was red, and her face all pale. She trembled all
over as though afraid of every one. That trembling remains
still with her. She is still the same poor little one: idiot, or
imbecile, or crazy, as you choose. Never has a word been drawn
from her, except when she asks to have taken out what she has
in her head.
“From that moment I became as sad as she; and I felt some-
thing in me that said to me, “Stay by her the rest of your
days, and take care of her. ' I have done it. When I returned to
France, I asked to pass with the same rank into the land troops;
having a hatred to the sea, because I had thrown into it inno-
cent blood. I sought for Laure's family. Her mother was dead.
Her sisters, to whom I took her insane, would have none of her,
and proposed to put her into Charenton. I turned my back on
them, and kept her with me.
“Ah! my God, comrade, if you wish to see her, it rests only
with yourself. "
“Is she in there? ” I asked.
«Certainly, here! Wait! ho! ho! mule.
” And he stopped his
poor mule, which seemed relieved at the command. At the same
time he raised the oilcloth of his little cart, as if to arrange the
straw which almost filled it; and I saw something very painful.
I saw two blue eyes, large beyond measure, admirable in shape,
looking out of a pale emaciated face, inundated with straight
light hair. She looked at us a moment, trembled, smiled faintly
at me. I noticed with astonishment that on her long fingers she
had two diamond rings.
»
## p. 15354 (#302) ##########################################
15354
PASQUALE VILLARI
(1827-)
T has been said that the history of any given nation can be
clearest understood and best written by a member of that
nation, as obviously fitted by temperament to enter into
that sympathy with the past which is the first requisite of the his-
torian. The truth of this is exemplified in the case of Pasquale Vil-
lari, a modern Italian historian, whose noted lives of Savonarola and
of Machiavelli owe their value as much to the author's comprehension
of the Italian temperament as to his thorough and extensive scholar-
ship. The first volume of the Life and Times of Savonarola' was
published in 1859, the second in 1861. In writing this history, Villari
had to deal with one of the most complex periods of Italian develop-
ment, when the Renaissance was approaching its zenith, introducing
into European life the elements out of which the modern world was
to be formed. Like other transitional periods, it was fraught with
much that seems inexplicable and contradictory, even to a far-removed
generation; furthermore, Villari had to treat of a character concern-
ing the estimate of whose place and work in the world a historian
might easily go astray. Savonarola in his perfect simplicity is one of
the most unintelligible figures of history, when regarded, as is usually
the case, as a mediæval friar of a profound and mystic devotional
genius. Villari does not question the genius, but he places Savonarola
where he belongs, in the modern and not in the medieval world.
“It cannot be denied that he had the spirit of an innovator; and indeed,
the main purpose of our work has been to insist on this point. Savonarola
was the first to raise the standard announcing the uprisal of the truly original
thought of the Renaissance at the close of the great epoch of humanistic learn-
ing. He was the first man of the fifteenth century to realize that the human
race was palpitating with the throes of a new life; and his words were loudly
echoed by that portion of the Italian people still left untainted by the prev-
alent corruption. He accordingly merits the title of prophet of the new civil-
ization.
Columbus discovered the paths of the sea, Savonarola those of
the soul;
he endeavored to conciliate reason with faith, religion with
liberty. His work may be ranked with that of the Council of Constance, of
Dante Alighieri, of Arnaldo of Brescia: he aspired to the reform of Christian-
ity and Catholicism that has been the constant ideal of the greatest minds of
Italy. ”
## p. 15355 (#303) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15355
Villari thus renders an enormous service to the life and work of
Savonarola. Seen in this light, the Dominican friar of San Marco
becomes the embodiment of the better elements of the Renaissance;
he perished because his environment was chiefly made up of the
lower elements of that great growth in the direction of the new
world. A Florence leavened by the Medici surrounded the prophet.
Villari has described this environment with wonderful penetration,
using the slightest details as explanatory of the central figure. For
these reasons his 'Life of Savonarola' is pre-eminent among the other
biographies of the great Dominican.
In his Niccolo Machiavelli and His Times,' he approaches his
subject in the same rational and sympathetic manner. The first
volume of this work is devoted to a survey of the principal Italian
States, — Milan, Florence, Venice, Rome, and Naples, — of the politi-
cal condition of Italy at the end of the fifteenth century, and of the
literature of the period. In this way he prepares the reader for a
comprehension of the character of Machiavelli, by the comprehen-
sion of the social and political conditions which produced him. In
his own words, he studied Machiavellism before Machiavelli. ) His
estimate of the great politician is singularly original and striking: he
proceeds upon the assumption that Machiavelli's noted maxim, “The
end justifies the means," was but a corollary to a much more com-
prehensive principle,-namely, that the whole is greater than the
parts; that the welfare of society is of more importance than the wel-
fare of the individual. He first points out that the political and social
state of the Italy of Machiavelli's time was directly productive of the
theories of statecraft embodied in The Prince. ) "All private rela-
tions were ruled by Christian morality, or at all events professed
unquestioning adherence to its precepts; but it was forsaken in pub-
lic life, where it was supposed to have no practical value. Good
faith, loyalty, and Christian goodness would have subjected to cer-
tain destruction any prince or government that should have actually
obeyed their dictates in political matters. The State would have cer-
tainly fallen a prey to the enemy; would perhaps have dissolved
into anarchy. ” Machiavelli “clearly saw that statecraft has ways
and means of its own, which are not the ways and means of private
morality: that on the contrary, the morality of private life may some-
times check a statesman in mid-career, and render him vacillating,
without his being either a good or a bad man; and that it is mainly
vacillation of this kind that leads to the downfall of States. There
must be no vacillation, he said, but a daring adoption of the meas-
ures demanded by the nature of events. Such measures will always
he justified when the end is obtained. And the end in view must
be the welfare of the State. He who obtains this, if even he be a
>>
## p. 15356 (#304) ##########################################
15356
PASQUALE VILLARI
wicked man, may be condemned for his wickedness; but as a prince
he will deserve everlasting glory. . . . Such is the true meaning of
Machiavelli's maxim, that the end justifies the means.
Villari con-
cludes his history by demonstrating that Machiavelli's conception of
Italy's needs was essentially a true one.
.
>>
«Italy had become incapable of a religious reformation like that accom-
plished in Germany. Instead of springing towards God, as Savonarola had pre-
dicted; instead of seeking strength in a new conception of faith, she aimed at
a recomposition of the idea of the State and the motherland. She saw in the
sacrifice of all to the universal good the only possible way of political and
moral redemption. The unity of the regenerated country would have inevitably
led to the re-establishment of morality; would have rekindled faith in public
and private virtue, and discovered a method of sanctifying the purpose of life.
This idea, vaguely and feebly felt by many, was the ruling thought of Machi-
avelli. . . . At the present day, when Italy's political redemption has begun,
and the nation is constituted according to the prophecies of Machiavelli, the
moment has at last come for justice to be done to him. ”
Villari himself has had that acquaintance with public affairs which
is invaluable to the historian. Born in Naples in 1827, he became
involved in the revolutionary movement which broke out in Naples in
1848, and took refuge in Florence. His exile proved of great benefit
to him as a historian, his researches in the archives of the city lead-
ing him to write the histories of Savonarola and Machiavelli. After
the publication of the former work, the chair of modern history in the
University of Pisa was bestowed upon him.
In 1862 he published a
work on Latin and English Civilization'; in 1877 the first volume, and
in 1882 the second volume, of Niccolo Machiavelli) were published.
Critical Essays' appeared in 1876, and Art, History, and Philosophy
in 1884. He also wrote political pamphlets, some of which had great
popularity. In 1866 he was sent to the Italian Parliament by the elect-
ors of Arezzo, but he did not become prominent as a politician. He
is now professor of modern history in the Florentine Institute; he is
also a member of the Superior Council of Public Instruction.
(The Life of Savonarola) and (Niccolo Machiavelli? have been
translated into English by the wife of Villari. The style of these
works is clear, forcible, and in the best sense popular.
## p. 15357 (#305) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15357
SAVONAROLA
From (Life and Times of Girolamo Savonarola)
SAY
AVONAROLA was of middle height, of dark complexion, of a
sanguineo-bilious temperament, and of a most high-strung
nervous system. His dark gray eyes were very bright, and
often flashed fire beneath his black brows; he had an aquiline
nose and a large mouth. His thick lips were compressed in a
manner denoting a stubborn firmness of purpose; his forehead,
already marked with deep furrows, indicated a mind continually
absorbed in meditation of serious things. But although his
countenance had no beauty of line, it expressed a severe nobility
of character, while a certain melancholy smile indued his harsh
features with so benevolent a charm as to inspire confidence at
first sight. His manners were simple, if uncultured; his language
rough and unadorned. But on occasion his homely words were
animated by a potent fervor that convinced and subdued all his
hearers.
While in the monastery of St. Dominic he led a silent life,
and became increasingly absorbed in spiritual contemplation. He
was so worn by fasting and penance that when pacing the clois-
ters, he seemed more like a spectre than a living man. The
hardest tests of the novitiate seemed light to him, and his supe-
riors were frequently obliged to curb his zeal. Even on days
not appointed for abstinence he scarcely ate enough to support
life. His bed was a grating with a sack of straw on it and one
blanket; his clothing of the coarsest kind, but strictly clean; in
modesty, humility, and obedience he surpassed all the rest of the
brethren. The fervor of his devotion excited the wonder of the
superiors, and his brother monks often believed him to be rapt
in a holy trance. The cloister walls seemed to have had the
effect of restoring his peace of mind by separating him from the
world, and to have purified him of all desires save for prayer and
obedience.
In the year 1481, serious alarms of war were threatening Fer-
rara from all sides. Already many of the inhabitants had fled,
and before long the university in which the Dominicans taught
theology was closed. Thereupon, either from economy or as a
measure of precaution, the superior of the order dispatched the
a
## p. 15358 (#306) ##########################################
15358
PASQUALE VILLARI
greater part of his monks elsewhere. Savonarola was directed
to go to Florence; he thus bade a last farewell to his family,
friends, and native town,- for he was destined never to see them
again.
On this, his first arrival in Florence, in 1481, he entered the
monastery of St. Mark, where the brightest and also the saddest
years of his life were to be passed. And inasmuch as the name
of Savonarola is always associated with that of St. Mark, it will
be well to say a few words on the convent's history.
At the beginning of the fifteenth century it was a poor, half-
ruined building, inhabited by a few monks of the order of St.
Sylvester, whose scandalous life occasioned numerous complaints
to be laid before the Court of Rome. Finally, Cosimo the Elder
obtained the papal permission to remove these monks elsewhere,
and granted the house to the reformed Dominicans of the Lom-
bard congregation. Then, deciding to rebuild it, he charged the
celebrated architect, Michelozzo Michelozzi, with the work; and
six years later, in 1443, the monastery was finished at a cost of
36,000 forins. Cosimo was never sparing of expense for churches,
monasteries, and other public works fitted to spread the fame of
his munificence and increase his popularity. While the convent
was in course of erection, he had been very generous in helping
the Dominicans; and now that the work was so successfully com-
pleted, he was not satisfied until he could endow them with a
valuable library. This, however, was a difficult undertaking and
one of considerable expense; since it was a question of collecting
manuscripts, which just then commanded exorbitant prices.
the opportune decease of Niccold Niccoli, the greatest manuscript-
collector in Europe, enabled Cosimo to fulfill his purpose. Nic-
coli had been one of the most learned men of his day, and spent
his whole life and fortune in acquiring a store of codices that
was the admiration of all Italy. He had bequeathed this treas-
ure to Florence; but having also left many debts behind him, 'his
testamentary dispositions had not been carried out. Accordingly
Cosimo paid off the debts; and reserving a few of the more pre-
cious codices for himself, intrusted the rest of the collection to
the monastery of St. Mark. This was the first public library
established in Italy; and the monks kept it in such excellent
order as to prove themselves worthy of the charge. St. Mark's
became almost a centre of erudition; and being joined to the
## p. 15359 (#307) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15359
congregation of the Lombard Dominicans, the more learned
brothers of the order resorted to Florence, and increased the
new convent's renown. The most distinguished men of the time
frequently came to St. Mark's to enjoy conversation with the
friars. It was during these years that Fra Giovanni da Fiesole,
better known as Fra Beato Angelico, was employed in covering
the convent walls with his incomparable works. But above all
their treasures of art and learning, the brethren chiefly gloried in
their spiritual father and founder, St. Antonine.
During his first days in Florence, Savonarola was accordingly
half intoxicated with delight. He was charmed by the smiling
landscape, the soft lines of the Tuscan hills, the elegance of the
Tuscan speech. Even before reaching the town, the gentle man-
ner of the country-folk he met on the way had predisposed him
to expect happiness in this fairest of Italian cities, where art and
nature contend for the palm of beauty. To his deeply religious
mind, Florentine art seemed the expression of a divine harmony,
a proof of the omnipotence of genius when inspired by faith.
The paintings of Fra Angelico appeared to have filled the clois-
ters of St. Mark with a company of angels; and as he gazed
upon them, the friar felt transported into a blessed sphere like
unto the world of his dreams. The sacred memories of Anto.
nine; the saint's deeds of charity, still enduring and still vener-
ated by the brotherhood; the friars themselves, so superior in
culture and refinement to any that he had yet known,- all com-
bined to make him believe his lot cast among real brethren of the
soul. His heart expanded with ingenuous hopes; he forgot all
past disappointments, and did not anticipate the still sadder trials
awaiting him when he should have been long enough in Florence
to understand better the nature of its inhabitants.
At the time of Savonarola's coming, Lorenzo the Magnificent
had reigned in Florence for many years, and was then at the
height of his power and fame. Under his rule all things wore
an air of prosperity and well-being. The factions which had so
frequently distracted the city had long been extinguished; all
refusing to bend beneath the Medicean yoke were either impris-
oned, exiled, or dead: and general tranquillity reigned. Con-
tinually occupied with festivities, dances, and tournaments, the
Florentines, once so jealous of their rights, seemed now to have
forgotten the very name of freedom.
## p. 15360 (#308) ##########################################
15360
PASQUALE VILLARI
After the first few days in Florence, Savonarola was again
oppressed by a feeling of isolation. Intimacy with the inhabit.
ants quickly betrayed the confirmed skepticism and flippancy
hidden beneath their great intellectual culture. The general
absence of principle and faith once more threw him back upon
himself; and his disgust was all the greater in consequence of
the lofty hopes with which he had entered Florence. Even
among the brethren of St. Mark's there was no real religious
feeling; for although the name of St. Antonine was so often on
their lips, it was uttered in a vainglorious rather than a loving
spirit. But above all, his indignation was aroused by the much-
vaunted studies of the Florentines. It was a new and horrible
experience to him to hear them wrangling over the precepts of
Plato and Aristotle, without caring or even perceiving that from
party spirit, and in the heat of discussion, they were denying
the most essential principles of the Christian faith. Accordingly
he began from that moment to regard all these men of letters,
erudites, and philosophers, with a sort of angry contempt; and
this feeling increased in strength to the point of often leading
him to disparage the very philosophy in which, by many years of
strenuous labor, he was himself so thoroughly versed.
But in no case would it have been possible for him to have
long retained the sympathy of the Florentines, inasmuch as they
were held apart from the newly arrived friar by an irreconcilable
diversity of temperament. Everything in Savonarola came from
the heart; even his intellect was ruled by its generous impulse:
but his manners and speech were rough and unadorned. He
spoke with a harsh accent, expressed himself in a homely way,
and made use of lively and almost violent gesticulations. Now,
the Florentines preferred preachers of scholarly refinement of
gesture, expression, and style, able to give an unmistakable imi-
tation of some ancient writers and copious quotations from others:
as to the gist of the sermon, they cared little about it; often
indeed conferring most praise on the speaker who allowed them
to see that he had little belief in religion. Savonarola, on the
contrary, thundered forth furious diatribes against the vices of
mankind, and the scanty faith of clergy and laity; he spoke dis-
paragingly of poets and philosophers, condemned the strange
craze for ancient authors, and quoting from no book save the
Bible, based all his sermons on its texts. Now, there were few
## p. 15361 (#309) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15361
Florentines who read the Bible at all; since, finding its Latin
incorrect, they were afraid of corrupting their style.
Having entered the convent of St. Mark towards the end of
1481, the following year Savonarola was charged by the friar
with the instruction of the novices, and applied himself to the
task with his accustomed zeal. Continually dominated by the same
mystic enthusiasm, he constantly exhorted his pupils to study
the Scriptures; and often appeared among them with tear-swollen
eyes, and wrought almost 'to ecstasy by prolonged vigils and fer-
vid meditation.
He retained his modest post of lecturer to the novices, up to
the Lent of 1486, when he was sent to preach in various cities
of Lombardy, and especially in Brescia. Here, with the Book of
Revelation for his theme, he found it easier to stir the sympa-
thies of his hearers. His words were fervent, his tone command-
ing, and he spoke with a voice of thunder; reproving the people
for their sins, denouncing the whole of Italy, and threatening all
with the terrors of God's wrath. He described the forms of the
twenty-four elders, and represented one of them as rising to
announce the future calamities of the Brescians. Their city, he
declared, would fall a prey to raging foes; they would see rivers
of blood in the streets; wives would be torn from their husbands,
virgins ravished, children murdered before their mothers' eyes:
all would be terror and fire and bloodshed. His sermon ended
with a general exhortation to repentance, inasmuch as the Lord
would have mercy on the just. The mystic image of the elder
made a deep impression upon the people. The preacher's voice
seemed really to resound from the other world; and his threat-
ening predictions awakened much alarm. During the sack of
Brescia in 1512 by the ferocious soldiery of Gaston de Foix,-
when, it is said, about six thousand persons were put to the
sword,- the inhabitants remembered the elder of the Apocalypse
and the Ferrarese preacher's words.
The great success of these Lenten sermons at last made the
name of Savonarola known to all Italy, and decided the course
of his life: for henceforward he no longer doubted his mission.
Yet such was the goodness and candor of his nature, that self-
confidence only made him more modest and humble. His ardor
for prayer, his faith and devout exultation, rose to so great a
height, that as his companion, Fra Sabastiano of Brescia, says,
Savonarola, when engaged in prayer, frequently fell into a trance;
XXVI--961
## p. 15362 (#310) ##########################################
15362
PASQUALE VILLARI
after celebrating mass, was so transported with holy fervor as
to be obliged to retire to some solitary place; and a halo of light
was often seen to encircle his head.
Savonarola remained in Lombardy until the January of 1489,
and during that period wrote to his mother from Pavia a long
and most affectionate letter. In this he begs her to forgive him
if he has nothing but prayers to offer to his family, since his
religious profession precludes him from helping them in other
ways; but he adds that in his heart he still shares their sorrows
and their joys. “I have renounced this world, and have become
a laborer in my Master's vineyard in many cities, not only to
save my own soul, but the souls of other men. If the Lord
has intrusted the talent to me, I must needs use it as he wills;
and seeing that he hath chosen me for this sacred office, rest ye
content that I fulfill it far from my native place, for I bear
better fruit than I could have borne at Ferrara. There it would
be with me as it was with Christ, when his countrymen said, 'Is
not this man a carpenter, and the son of a carpenter ? ' But out
of my own place this has never been said to me; rather, when I
have to depart, men and women shed tears, and hold my words
in much esteem. I thought to have written only a few lines;
but love hath caused my pen to run on, and I have opened my
heart to you far more than was my purpose. Know, then, that
this heart of mine is more than ever bent on devoting soul and
body, and all the knowledge granted to me by God, to his sery-
ice and my neighbors' salvation; and since this work was not
to be done in my own land, I am fain to perform it elsewhere.
Encourage all to righteous living. I depart for Genoa this day. ”
Of Savonarola's preachings in Genoa nothing is known to
But we know that in the summer of 1489 he was suddenly
recalled by his superiors to Florence, and strangely enough, at
the express desire of Lorenzo de' Medici. The prince made the
request in order to gratify his favorite friend, Pico della Miran-
dola, who had earnestly pressed him to do so.
In the Lent of 1491 Savonarola preached in the Duomo, and
his voice echoed for the first time within the walls of Santa
Maria del Fiore. From that moment he would seem to have
become paramount in the pulpit, and master of the people; who
flocked to hear him in increasing numbers, and with redoubled
enthusiasm. The friar's imagery enchanted the popular fancy;
his threats of coming chastisement had a magical effect upon the
us.
## p. 15363 (#311) ##########################################
PASQUALE VILLARI
15363
He was
minds of all, for it truly seemed that all were already oppressed
by evil presentiments. His recently published writings likewise
assured his influence over distinguished men who had hitherto
stood hesitatingly aloof; but this did not prevent him from con-
demning, in the plainest and most decided terms, the skepticism
and corruption of the most celebrated literati of the time.
All this naturally caused much annoyance to Lorenzo de'
Medici, and roused the hostility of his friends.
already styled a tyrant by many, and universally charged with
having corrupted the magistrates, and appropriated public and
private funds. Therefore it was plain that the friar had dared
to make allusion to him. Nevertheless this audacity served to
increase Savonarola's fame, and in the July of 1491 he was
elected Prior of St. Mark's. This new office, while raising him
to a more prominent position, also gave him greater independ-
ence. He at once refused to conform to an abuse that had been
introduced in the convent: namely, that the new prior must go to
pay his respects, and as it were do homage, to the Magnificent.
"I consider that my election is owed to God alone,” he said,
"and to him alone will I vow obedience. » Lorenzo was deeply
offended by this, and exclaimed, “You see! a stranger has come
into my house, yet he will not stoop to pay me a visit. ” Never-
theless, being reluctant to wage war with the prior of a convent,
or attach too much importance to a monk, he sought to win him
over by kindness. He went several times to hear mass in St.
Mark's, and afterwards walked in the garden; but Savonarola
could not be persuaded to leave his studies in order to bear him
company. When the friars ran to tell him of Lorenzo's presence,
he replied, “If he does not ask for me, let him go or stay at his
pleasure. ”
He was very severe in his judgment of Lorenzo's
character; and knowing the harm wrought on public morals by
the prince, had no wish to approach a tyrant whom he regarded
not only as the foe and destroyer of freedom, but as the chief
obstacle to the restoration of Christian life among the people.
Lorenzo then began to send rich gifts and generous alms to the
convent. But this naturally increased Savonarola's previous con-
tempt for his character. And he alluded to the circumstance in
the pulpit, when saying that a faithful dog does not leave off
barking in his master's defense, because a bone is thrown to
him. Nevertheless, soon after this he found a large sum of
money in gold in the convent alms-box; and persuaded that
## p. 15364 (#312) ##########################################
15364
PASQUALE VILLARI
(C
Lorenzo was the donor, immediately sent it all to the congrega-
tion of the good men of St. Martin for distribution among the
poor, saying that silver and copper sufficed for the needs of his
brethren. Thus, as Burlamacchi remarks, Lorenzo was at last
convinced that this was not the right soil in which to plant
vines. ”
But Lorenzo refused to be checked by this rebuff; and pres-
ently sent five of the weightiest citizens in Florence to Savon-
arola, in order to persuade him to change his behavior and
manner of preaching, by pointing out the dangers he was incur-
ring for himself and his convent. But Savonarola soon cut short
their homily by saying, "I know that you have not come of your
own will, but at that of Lorenzo.
