nationalities, with such varied attire and strange weapons, was as new
and amazing a sight to Florence as to almost all Italy, where no standing
armies were as yet in existence, and mercenaries the only soldiery known.
It is impossible to give the number of the forces accompanying the King
to Florence, for his artillery were marching toward Rome by another
route; he had left garrisons in many strongholds, and sent on another
body of men by Romagna. Gaddi, who witnessed the entrance of the French,
says that their numbers amounted to twelve thousand; Rinuccini, who was
also present, estimated them at a lower figure; others at a higher. In
any case the city and suburbs were crammed with them.
The procession marched over the Ponte Vecchio ("Old Bridge"), which was
gay with festive decorations and sounds of music, wound across the Piazza
amid a crowd of triumphal cars, statues, etc., and, passing the Canto dei
Pazzi, made the tour of the Cathedral Square, and halted before the great
door of the church. The people shouted the name of France with cries
of applause, but the King only smiled inanely and stammered some
inappropriate words in Italian. Entering the Duomo, he was met by the
seigniory, who, to avoid the pressure of the armed host, had been obliged
to come around by the back streets. After joining in prayers with their
royal guest, they escorted him to the sumptuous palace of the Medici, and
the soldiers dispersed to their quarters. That night and the next the
whole city was a blaze of illuminations; the intervening day was devoted
to feasting and amusements, and then the terms of the treaty began to be
discussed.
The terms of the treaty stood as follows: That there should be a good
and faithful friendship between the republic and the King; that their
subjects should have reciprocal protection; that the King should receive
the title of restorer and protector of the liberty of Florence; that he
should be paid one hundred twenty thousand florins in three instalments;
that he was not to retain the fortresses for more than two years; and if
the Neapolitan expedition finished before that date, he was then to give
them up without delay; that the Pisans were to receive pardon as soon as
they should resume their allegiance to Florence. It was also stipulated
that the decree putting a price on the heads of the Medici should be
revoked, but that the states of Giuliano and Cardinal Giovanni were to
remain confiscated until all Piero's debts had been paid, and that the
said Piero was to remain banished to a distance of two hundred miles, and
his brothers of one hundred, from the Tuscan border. After the agreement
had been drawn up in regular official form, the contracting parties met
in the Duomo to swear to the observance of all its clauses, and in the
evening there was a general illumination of the city, although the people
gave no signs of their previous good-will toward the King.
But no sooner was one difficulty disposed of than another arose. When
all was concluded Charles relapsed into his normal state of inertia, and
showed no disposition to depart. The city was thronged by the French
quartered in the houses, and the Italian soldiery hidden on all sides;
the shops were shut up and all traffic suspended; everything was in a
state of uncertainty and disorder, and the continual quarrels between the
natives and the foreigner might at any moment provoke the most serious
complications. There were perpetual robberies and murders by night--a
most unusual state of things for Florence; and the people seemed to be on
the verge of revolt at the least provocation. Thus matters went on from
day to day, and consequently all honest citizens vainly did their utmost
to hasten the King's departure. And the universal suspense was heightened
by the impossibility of finding any way of forcing him to a decision.
At last another appeal was made to Savonarola, who was exerting all his
influence to keep the people quiet, and whose peaceful admonitions during
this period of danger and confusion had been no less efficacious than the
heroic defiance of Piero Capponi. The friar's sermons at this time were
always directed to the general welfare. He exhorted the citizens "to lay
aside their animosities and ambitions; to attend the councils at the
palace in a righteous spirit, and with a view, not to their personal
interest, but to the general good, and with the firm resolve to promote
the unity and concord of their city. Then, indeed, would they be
acceptable in the Lord's sight." He addressed himself to every class
of the people in turn, proving to all that it would be to their own
advantage, both in this life and the next, to labor for the defence of
liberty and the establishment of unity and concord. When asked to seek
the King and endeavor to persuade him to leave, he cheerfully undertook
the task and hastened to the royal abode. The officers and lords in
attendance were at first inclined to refuse him admittance, fearing that
his visit might defeat their plan of pillaging the treasures of this
sumptuous palace. But, remembering the veneration in which the friar was
held by the King, they dared not refuse his demand and allowed him to
pass. Charles, surrounded by his barons, received him very graciously,
and Savonarola went straight to the point by saying: "Most Christian
Prince, thy stay here is causing great injury both to our own city and
thy enterprise. Thou losest time, forgetful of the duty imposed on thee
by Providence, and to the serious hurt of thy spiritual welfare and
worldly fame. Hearken now to the voice of God's servant! Pursue thy
journey without delay. Seek not to bring ruin on this city, and thereby
rouse the anger of the Lord against thee."
So at last, on November 28th, at the twenty-second hour of the day, the
King departed with his army, leaving the people of Florence very badly
disposed toward him. Among their many just causes of complaint was
the sack of the splendid palace in which he had been so liberally and
trustfully entertained. Nor were common soldiers and inferior officers
alone concerned in this robbery; the hands of generals and barons were
equally busy, and the King himself carried off objects of the greatest
value; among other things a precious intaglio representing a unicorn,
estimated by Comines to be worth about seven thousand ducats. With such
an example set by their sovereign, it may be easily imagined how the
others behaved; and Comines himself tells us that "they shamelessly took
possession of everything that tempted their greed." Thus the rich and
marvellous collections formed by the Medici were all lost, excepting what
had been placed in safety at St. Mark's, for the few things left
behind by the French were so much damaged that they had to be sold.
Nevertheless, the inhabitants were so rejoiced to be finally rid of their
dangerous guests that no one mourned over these thefts. On the contrary,
public thanksgivings were offered up in the churches, the people went
about the streets with their old gayety and lightheartedness, and the
authorities began to take measures to pro vide for the urgent necessities
of the new republic.
During this interval the aspect of Florentine affairs had entirely
changed. The partisans of the Medici had disappeared from the city as if
by magic; the popular party ruled over everything, and Savonarola ruled
the will of the whole population. He was unanimously declared to have
been a prophet of all that had occurred, the only man that had succeeded
in controlling the King's conduct on his entry into Florence, the only
man who had induced him to depart; accordingly all hung on Savonarola's
lips for counsel, aid, and direction as to their future proceedings. And,
as though the men of the old state saw the need of effacing themselves to
make way for new blood, several prominent representatives and friends of
the Medici house died during this period. Angelo Poliziano had passed
away this year, on September 24th, "loaded with as much infamy and public
opprobrium as a man could well bear." He was accused of numberless vices
and unlimited profligacy; but the chief cause of all the hatred lavished
on him was the general detestation already felt for Piero de' Medici,
the approach of his downfall and that of all his adherents. Nor was the
public rancor at all softened by the knowledge that the last utterances
of the illustrious poet and learned scholar had been the words of a
penitent Christian. He had requested that his body should be clothed in
the Dominican habit and interred in the Church of St. Mark, and there
his ashes repose beside the remains of Giovanni Picodella Mirandola, who
expired on the very day of Charles VIII's entry into Florence. Pico had
long entertained a desire to join the fraternity of St. Mark's, but,
delaying too long to carry out his intent, was surprised by death at the
early age of thirty-two years. On his death-bed he, too, had besought
Savonarola to allow him to be buried in the robe he had yearned to wear.
The end of these two celebrated Italians recalled to mind the last hours
and last confession of Lorenzo the Magnificent, and was by many regarded
as a sign that the Medicean adherents had been unwilling to pass away
without acknowledging their crimes, without asking pardon from the people
whom they had so deeply oppressed, and from the friar, who was, as it
were, the people's best representative. It was certainly remarkable that
all these men should turn to the convent of St. Mark, whence had issued
the first cry of liberty, and the first sign of war against the tyranny
of the Medici.
JEAN C. L. SISMONDI
At the moment that Florence expelled the Medici, the republic was divided
among three different parties. The first was that of the enthusiasts,
directed by Girolamo Savonarola, who promised the miraculous protection
of the Divinity for the reform of the Church and establishment of
liberty. These demanded a democratic constitution; they were called the
"Piagnoni." The second consisted of men who had shared power with the
Medici, but who had separated from them; who wished to possess alone the
powers and profits of government, and who endeavored to amuse the people
by dissipations and pleasures, in order to establish at their ease an
aristocracy. These were called the "Arabbiati." The third party was
composed of men who remained faithful to the Medici, but, not daring to
declare themselves, lived in retirement; they were called "Bigi."
These three parties were so equally balanced in the _balia_ named by the
parliament, on December 2, 1494, that it soon became impossible to carry
on the government. Girolamo Savonarola took advantage of this state of
affairs to urge that the people had never delegated their power to a
balia which did not abuse the trust.
"The people," he said, "would do much better to reserve this power to
themselves, and exercise it by a council, into which all the citizens
should be admitted." His proposition was agreed to; more than one
thousand eight hundred Florentines furnished proof that either they,
their fathers, or their grandfathers had sat in the magistracy; they were
consequently acknowledged citizens and admitted to sit in the general
council. This council was declared sovereign on July 1, 1495; it was
invested with the election of magistrates, hitherto chosen by lot, and
a general amnesty was proclaimed, to bury in oblivion all the ancient
dissensions of the Florentine republic.
So important a modification of the constitution seemed to promise this
republic a happier futurity. The friar Savonarola, who had exercised such
influence in the council, evinced at the same time an ardent love of
mankind, deep respect for the rights of all, great sensibility, and an
elevated mind. Though a zealous reformer of the Church, and in this
respect a precursor of Luther, who was destined to begin his mission
twenty years later, he did not quit the pale of orthodoxy; he did not
assume the right of examining doctrine; he limited his efforts to the
restoration of discipline, the reformation of the morals of the clergy,
and the recall of priests, as well as other citizens, to the practice of
the gospel precepts. But his zeal was mixed with enthusiasm; he believed
himself under the immediate inspiration of Providence; he took his own
impulses for prophetic revelations, by which he directed the politics of
his disciples, the Piagnoni.
He had predicted to the Florentines the coming of the French into Italy;
he had represented to them Charles VIII as an instrument by which the
Divinity designed to chastise the crimes of the nation; he had counselled
them to remain faithful to their alliance with that King, the instrument
of Providence, even though his conduct, especially in reference to the
affairs of Pisa, had been highly culpable.
This alliance, however, ranged the Florentines among the enemies of Pope
Alexander VI, one of the founders of the league which had driven the
French out of Italy. He accused them of being traitors to the Church and
to their country for their attachment to a foreign prince. Alexander,
equally offended by the projects of reform and by the politics of
Savonarola, denounced him to the Church as a heretic, and interdicted him
from preaching. The monk at first obeyed, and procured the appointment of
his friend and disciple the Dominican friar, Buonvicino of Pescia, as
his successor in the Church of St. Mark; but on Christmas Day, 1497, he
declared from the pulpit that God had revealed to him that he ought not
to submit to a corrupt tribunal; he then openly took the sacrament with
the monks of St. Mark, and afterward continued to preach. In the course
of his sermons he more than once held up to reprobation the scandalous
conduct of the Pope, whom the public voice accused of every vice
and every crime to be expected in a libertine so depraved--a man so
ambitious, perfidious, and cruel--a monarch and a priest intoxicated with
absolute power.
In the mean time the rivalry encouraged by the court of Rome between
the religious orders soon procured the Pope a champion eager to combat
Savonarola; he was a Dominican--the general of the Augustines, that
Order whence Martin Luther was soon to issue. Friar Mariano di Ghinazzano
signalized himself by his zeal in opposing Savonarola. He presented to
the Pope Friar Francis of Apulia, of the order of Minor Observantines,
who was sent to Florence to preach against the Florentine monks, in the
Church of Santa Croce. This preacher declared to his audience that he
knew Savonarola pretended to support his doctrine by a miracle. "For me,"
said he, "I am a sinner; I have not the presumption to perform miracles;
nevertheless, let a fire be lighted, and I am ready to enter it with
him. I am certain of perishing, but Christian charity teaches me not to
withhold my life if in sacrificing it I might precipitate into hell a
heresiarch, who has already drawn into it so many souls."
This strange proposition was rejected by Savonarola; but his friend and
disciple, Friar Dominic Buonvicino, eagerly accepted it. Francis of
Apulia declared that he would risk his life against Savonarola only.
Meanwhile a crowd of monks, of the Dominican and Franciscan orders,
rivalled each other in their offers to prove by the ordeal of fire, on
one side the truth, on the other the falsehood, of the new doctrine.
Enthusiasm spread beyond the two convents; many priests and seculars,
and even women and children, more especially on the side of Savonarola,
earnestly requested to be admitted to the proof. The Pope warmly
testified his gratitude to the Franciscans for their devotion. The
Seigniory of Florence consented that two monks only should devote
themselves for their respective orders, and directed the pile to be
prepared. The whole population of the town and country, to which a signal
miracle was promised, received the announcement with transports of joy.
On April 17, 1498, a scaffold, dreadful to look on, was erected in the
public square of Florence; two piles of large pieces of wood, mixed with
fagots and broom, which should quickly take fire, extended each eighty
feet long, four feet thick, and five feet high; they were separated by a
narrow space of two feet, to serve as a passage by which the two priests
were to enter and pass the whole length of the piles during the fire.
Every window was full; every roof was covered with spectators; almost
the whole population of the republic was collected round the place. The
portico called the Loggia dei Lanzi, divided in two by a partition, was
assigned to the two orders of monks. The Dominicans arrived at their
station chanting canticles and bearing the holy sacrament. The
Franciscans immediately declared that they would not permit the host to
be carried amid flames. They insisted that the friar Buonvicino should
enter the fire, as their own champion was prepared to do, without this
divine safeguard. The Dominicans answered that "they would not separate
themselves from their God at the moment when they implored his aid." The
dispute upon this point grew warm.
Several hours passed away. The multitude, which had waited long and began
to feel hunger and thirst, lost patience; a deluge of rain suddenly fell
upon the city, and descended in torrents from the roofs of the houses;
all present were drenched. The piles were so wet that they could
no longer be lighted; and the crowd, disappointed of a miracle so
impatiently looked for, separated, with the notion of having been
unworthily trifled with. Savonarola lost all his credit; he was
henceforth rather looked on as an impostor.
Next day his convent was besieged by the Arabbiati, eager to profit by
the inconstancy of the multitude; he was arrested with his two friends,
Domenico Buonvicino and Silvestro Marruffi, and led to prison. The
Piagnoni, his partisans, were exposed to every outrage from the populace;
two of them were killed, their rivals and old enemies exciting the
general ferment for their destruction. Even in the seigniory the majority
was against them, and yielded to the pressing demands of the Pope. The
three imprisoned monks were subjected to a criminal prosecution.
Alexander VI despatched judges from Rome with orders to condemn the
accused to death. Conformably with the laws of the Church, the trial
opened with the torture. Savonarola was too weak and nervous to support
it; he vowed in his agony all that was imputed to him, and, with his two
disciples, was condemned to death. The three monks were burned alive, May
23, 1498, in the same square where, six weeks before, a pile had been
raised to prepare them a triumph.
DISCOVERY OF THE MAINLAND OF NORTH AMERICA BY THE CABOTS
A.D. 1497
SAMUEL EDWARD DAWSON
Newfoundland prides herself on being the oldest colony of the English
crown. By virtue of John Cabot's discovery, in A.D. 1497, she also claims
the honor of being the first portion of the New-World continent to be
discovered and made known by Europeans. This was fourteen months before
Columbus, on his third expedition, beheld the American mainland.
At the close of the fifteenth century, the impelling motive of discovery
among the Old-World nations, and their adventurous mariners, was the hope
of finding a short western passage to the riches of the East Indies. This
was the chief lure of the period, added to the ambition of Old-World
monarchs to extend their territorial possessions and bring them within
the embrace of their individual flags. Henry VII of England aided the
Cabots, father and son, to fit out two expeditions from Bristol to
explore the coasts of the New World and extend the search for hitherto
unknown countries. The result of these enterprises was the discovery of
Newfoundland and Labrador as well as other lands, and England's claim to
the possession of the greater portion of the North American continent.
Probably no question in the history of this continent has been the
subject of so much discussion as the lives and voyages of the two Cabots.
Their personal character, their nationality, the number of voyages they
made, and the extent and direction of their discoveries have been, and
still are, keenly disputed over. The share, moreover, of each in
the credit due for the discoveries made is a very battle-ground for
historians. Some learned writers attribute everything to John Cabot;
others would put him aside and award all the credit to his second son,
Sebastian. The dates even of the voyages are disputed; and very learned
professors of history in Portugal do not hesitate to declare that the
voyages are apocryphal, the discoveries pretended, and the whole question
a mystification.
Nevertheless, solely upon the discoveries of the Cabots have always
rested the original claims of the English race to a foothold upon this
continent. In the published annals of England, however, no contemporary
records of them exist; nor was there for sixty years in English
literature any recognition of their achievements. The English claims rest
almost solely upon second-hand evidence from Spanish and Italian authors,
upon contemporary reports of Spanish and Italian envoys at the English
court, upon records of the two letters-patent issued, and upon two or
three entries lately discovered in the accounts of disbursements from
the privy purse of King Henry VII. These are our title-deeds to this
continent. The evidence is doubtless conclusive, but the whole subject of
western discovery was undervalued and neglected by England for so long
a period that it is no wonder if Portuguese savants deny the reality of
those voyages, seeing that their nation has been supplanted by a race
which can show so little original evidence of its claims.
It is not my intention to wander over all the debatable ground of the
Cabot voyages, where every circumstance bristles with conflicting
theories. The original authorities are few and scanty, but mountains of
hypotheses have been built upon them, and too often the suppositions of
one writer have been the facts of a succeeding one. Step by step the
learned students before alluded to have established certain propositions
which appear to me to be true, and which I shall accept without further
discussion. Among these I count the following:
1. That John Cabot was a Venetian, of Genoese birth, naturalized at
Venice on March 28, 1476, after the customary fifteen years of residence,
and that he subsequently settled in England with all his family.
2. That Sebastian, his second son, was born in Venice, and when very
young was taken by his father to England with the rest of the family.
3. That on petition of John Cabot and his three sons, Lewis, Sebastian,
and Sancio, letters-patent of King Henry VII were issued, under date
March 5, 1496, empowering them, at their own expense, to discover
and take possession for England of new lands not before found by any
Christian nation.
4. That John Cabot, accompanied perhaps by his son Sebastian, sailed from
Bristol early in May, 1497. He discovered and landed upon some part
of America between Cape Cod, in Massachusetts, and Cape Chidley, in
Labrador; that he returned to Bristol before the end of July of the same
year; that, whatever might have been the number of vessels which started,
the discovery was made by John Cabot's own vessel, the Matthew of
Bristol, with a crew of eighteen men.
5. That thereupon, and in consideration of this discovery made by John
Cabot, King Henry VII granted new letters-patent, drawn solely to John
Cabot, authorizing a second expedition on a more extended scale and with
fuller royal authority, which letters-patent were dated February 3, 1498;
that this expedition sailed in the spring of 1498, and had not returned
in October. It consisted of several ships and about three hundred men.
That John and Sebastian Cabot sailed on this voyage. When it returned
is not known. From the time of sailing of this expedition John Cabot
vanishes into the unknowable, and from thenceforth Sebastian alone
appears in the historic record.