Savonarola Meets the King of France

Savonarola repaired to the French camp, and, passing through that great host of armed men, made his way to the King’s presence.

Continuing Savonarola’s Career,
with a selection from History of Girolamo Savonarola by Pasquale Villari published in 1861. This selection is presented in 4.5 easy 5 minute installments. For works benefiting from the latest research see the “More information” section at the bottom of these pages.

Previously in Savonarola’s Career.

Time: 1490-1498
Place: Florence

But the popular discontent was now heightened by the arrival of other envoys from Pisa with very unsatisfactory tidings. They had informed the King that Florence was friendly to him, and already preparing to welcome him with all the honors due to his royalty; they only asked that, being received as a friend, he should bear himself in that light, and deign to name his terms at once, so that free vent might be given to the public joy. But the only reply Charles condescended to give was that, “Once in the great town, all should be arranged.” And it was evident from his majesty’s coldness that the solicitations of Piero de’ Medici, his earnest prayers, lavish promises of money, and submissive obedience had turned him not in his favor. Consequently the ambassadors had to leave without any definite answer, and could only say that the monarch was by no means well disposed to the republic.

But when the foiled envoys had left Pisa, Savonarola repaired to the French camp, and, passing through that great host of armed men, made his way to the King’s presence. Charles, who was surrounded by his generals, received him very kindly, and thereupon, without wasting much time in preliminaries, the friar, in sonorous and almost commanding accents, addressed him with a short exhortation beginning as follows: “O most Christian King, thou art an instrument in the hand of the Lord, who sendeth thee to relieve the woes of Italy, as for many years I have foretold; and he sendeth thee to reform the Church, which now lieth prostrate in the dust. But if thou be not just and merciful; if thou shouldst fail to respect the city of Florence, its women, its citizens, and its liberty; if thou shouldst forget the task the Lord hath sent thee to perform, then will he choose another to fulfil it; his hand shall smite thee, and chastise thee with terrible scourges. These things say I unto you in the name of the Lord.” The King and his generals seemed much impressed by Savonarola’s menacing words, and to have full belief in them. In fact, it was the general feeling of the French that they were divinely guided to fulfil the Lord’s work, and Charles felt a strong veneration for the man who had prophesied his coming and foretold the success of his expedition. Consequently the friar’s exhortation inspired him with real terror, and also decided him to behave more honorably to the Florentines. Thus, when Savonarola returned to the city shortly after the other ambassadors, he was the bearer of more satisfactory intelligence.

As the King’s intentions were still unknown, fresh relays of ambassadors were sent out to him. But meanwhile French officers and men passed the gates in little bands of fifteen or so at a time, and were seen roving about the town unarmed, jaunty, and gallant, bearing pieces of chalk in their hands to mark the houses on which their troops were to be billeted. While affecting an air of contemptuous indifference, they were unable to hide their amazement at the sight of so many splendid buildings, and at every turn were confounded by the novel scenes presented to their gaze. But what struck them most of all was the grim severity of the palaces, which appeared to be impregnable strongholds, and the towns still scarred with the marks of fierce and sanguinary faction fights. Then, on November 15th, they witnessed a sight that sent a thrill of fear to their souls. Whether by accident or design, a rumor suddenly spread through the town that Piero de’ Medici was nearing the gates. Instantly the bell of the seigniory clanged the alarm; the streets swarmed with a furious mob; armed men sprang, as by magic, from the earth, and rushed toward the Piazza; palace doors were barred; towers bristled with defenders; stockades began to be built across the streets, and on that day the French took their first lesson in the art of barricades. It was soon ascertained that the rumor was false, and the tumult subsided as quickly as it had risen. But the foreign soldiers were forced to acknowledge that their tactics and stout battalions would be almost powerless, hemmed in those streets, against this new and unknown mode of warfare. In fact, the Florentines looked on the Frenchmen with a certain pert assurance, as if they would say, “We shall see!” For, having now regained its liberty, this people thought itself master of the world, and almost believed that there was nothing left for it to fear.

Meanwhile splendid preparations were being made in the Medici palace for the reception of King Charles; his officers were to be lodged in the houses of the principal citizens, and the streets through which he was to pass were covered with awnings and draped with hangings and tapestries. On November 17th the seigniory assembled on a platform erected by the San Frediano gate; and numbers of young Florentine nobles went forth to meet the King, who made his state entry at the twenty-first hour of the day. The members of the seigniory then rose and advanced toward him to pay their respects, while Messer Luca Corsini, being deputed to that office, stood forth to read a written address. But just at that moment rain began to fall, the horses grew restless and hustled against one another, and the whole ceremony was thrown into confusion.

Only Messer Francesco Gaddi, one of the officers of the palace, had sufficient presence of mind to press his way through the throng and make a short speech suited to the occasion in French, after which the King moved forward under a rich canopy. The monarch’s appearance was in strange contrast with that of the numerous and powerful army behind him. He seemed almost a monster, with his enormous head, long nose, wide, gaping mouth, big, white, purblind eyes, very diminutive body, extraordinarily thin legs, and misshapen feet.

Pasquale Villari begins here. Jean C. L. Sismondi begins here.

More information here and here, and below.

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