i * «? '$>', "^ 3.0 V*, ^o^^^' <> *'T: Hq. «^^ ^^. '^o^ vV »/>. s^ ■ft/ ♦<* ^^-^^^ PROVIDENTIAL EPOCHS. BY FRANK M. BRISTOL, D. D. CINCINNATI: CRANSTON & CURTS. NEW YORK: HUNT & EATON. 1894. i>- COPYRIGHT BY CRANSTON & CURTS, .3 Bfc PREFACE. T^HE contents of this book first took form in a series of lectures on Providential Epochs, intended for Christian young people, who were presumably taking up certain courses of reading along historical lines. The author's aim was simply to furnish an incentive to the more thor- ough study of those events which had ever seemed to him demonstrative of the history- shaping activity of Divine Providence. The limitations of a lecture precluded the possibility of exhaustive treatment. The author claims originality in nothing. He hopes for nothing more important to come of his book than a desire on the reader's part to know more of these great epochs by the study of the recog- nized authorities. It will be most gratifying 4 Preface. to hope that such study may promote a belief in the Providence of history, a confidence in the world's perpetual advancement and a growth of pure and lofty patriotism in the hearts of our American youth. F. M. B. EVANSTON, 1894. CONTENTS I. Page. The Renaissance, 7 ir. The Reformation 113 III. The Discovery of America, 155 IV. The SETTI.EMENT OF OUR COUNTRY, 219 5 ILLUSTRATIONS, •Florence, Frontispiece. "Giotto's Portrait of Dante, Facing page 17 Lorenzo de' Medici, " " 24 /Savonaroi^a, " " 39 Execution of Savonaroi.a, " " 85 '-Michael Ang. Buonarroti, " " 98 ''Raphael " " 96 ^' Moses" by Michael Angelo, " " 99 /St. Peter's Cathedral, " " 104 Martin Luther, " "113 4>HILIP Melanchthon " " 136 -John Calvin, " " 140 Christopher Columbus, " "155 "Amerigo Vespucci, " "197 George Washington, " "219 ~7oHN Wesley, " " 254 John Hancock " " 263 I. The Renaissance. 7 THE RENAISSANCE. ART and letters have vied with romance and arms in giving fascination to " The lovely land of Italy." This sunny peninsula, by nature beautified and by genius made classical, has furnished the stage on which have been cast many of the most brill- iant and important scenes in the drama of History. A study of these scenes will leave the impres- sion upon our minds that neither the vigor and the simplicity of the old Roman Republic, nor the power and greatness of the Empire of the Caesars, have added a more charming and inter- esting chapter to the history of progress than the intellectual activity and art triumphs of the Re- naissance. The Renaissance was a short and brilliant era of less than a single century; it was but an epoch — an intellectual awakening — prophesying ages of enlightenment, and a final civilization of universal humanism. The philosophical student looks upon an in- tellectual revival or a religious reformation as the 2 9 lo Providential Epochs, result of a growth, the germ and genesis of which may often be too remote and obscure to be defined. The events which mark an epoch in the world's development are seldom, if ever, the result of a single and discernible cause. While some writers have given what they suppose to be the precise dates of the beginning and close of the Renaissance, the more philosophical stu- dent must assume that the initial date of a grand moral or intellectual movement is as re- mote and obscure as its causes. It is sufficient to say that the Renaissance, in its full-orbed brightness and clearly-defined his- toric character, belongs to the fifteenth century. It may be confined within seventy-five years of that century — the span of a single lifetime. A rapid survey of the events which lead up to this epoch will help us to understand its his- toric place and relations. Five hundred years from the Golden Age of Augustus, the Goths had stripped the last Roman emperor of his power. But long before this the storied greatness of Rome had passed away ; her forum no longer echoed with Ciceronian eloquence ; her acade- mies were closed ; and no poet could string anew the charmed lyre of Virgil, or fill again the mu- sical reed of Horace. The Renaissance. ii The sword with which the mighty Julius had conquered the world was in the dust, and not a hand in Rome was strong enough to raise it in victorious self-defense. The art, learning, states- manship, and military power of the Latins had been a story of the past for two hundred years when x\ttila the Hun swept down with fury into Italy, and made the cruel boast that the grass no longer grew where his horse had set his foot. Paganism had spent its force. The fabric of so- ciety, which rested on military power, or on mere worldly culture, though often beautiful and imposing, had, by the very logic of its character, crumbled to its ruin. A race enervated by cen- turies of indulgences born of wealth or power became the easy prey of the still vigorous con- querors from the barbaric North. Everything intellectual and aesthetic perished when the sword and torch of the barbarian swept across those old classic realms, and the con- queror made sad havoc of whatever remained of the monuments of ancient taste and culture. Turn to the East. Three hundred years after the age of Pericles the glory of Greece had van- ished like a dream, and her career as the most highly-developed civilization of history had passed into a very tale of enchantment, almost 12 Providential Epochs. too splendid and fascinating to be true. For five hundred years succeeding the Roman conquest this civilization suffered decline in art, learning, statesmanship, manhood, and all that once made it the highest realization of culture in organized society. Then, like Rome its conqueror, weak- ened by its sensualisms, it fell before the relent- less invaders. Alas for the creations of a Phidias arid a Praxiteles, where the ruthless barbarian has had his sway! Alas for the beautiful sculpture and architecture which had been the pride and tri- umph of a Periclesian civilization! What had those whirlwinds of passion and conquest in common with the placid beauty of Phidian art, the sublime strains of Attic eloquence and song, the serious, patient philosophies of the acade- mies of Greece ! The names of Homer and Sophocles, Solon and Lycurgus, Plato and Aristotle, Phidias and Apelles, had lost their charm and inspiration. The achievements of the great, like their names, were forgotten, and their masterpieces lay in ob- livion, like their noble ashes in neglected graves. The beautiful light of Grecian culture, like the splendor of Roman arms, had fallen into night and chaos. The Renaissance. 13 As yet the North was not well out of a vigor- ous savagery ; the light of art and letters had not penetrated the gloom of barbarism. The Saxons and Normans, Britons and Franks, with all their native prowess, were strangers to polite learning. By the ninth century they had come, in the de- velopment of institutionalism, to the feudalism in which they remained for the four succeeding centuries. Turning again to the South and East, we look upon the Mohammedan conquests of the eighth century. Fanaticism followed barbarism, to bury in still deeper oblivion every trace of the culture and refinement that lingered about the ruins of classical antiquity. But, saddest calamity of all, history must re- cord the corruption of the Christian Church. Its ecclesiasticism became political, tyrannical, and oppressive, while its doctrines and forms of wor- ship fell into superstition and paganism. Dante sang in sorrow, if not in bitterness: "The Church of Rome, Mixing two governments that ill assort, Hath missed her footing, fall'n into the mire, And there herself and burden much defiled." Thus Europe passed under the cloud of what may justly be called the Dark Ages. Little or 14 Providential Epochs. no progress was made in literature, art, science, freedom, or religion. The dust and debris of Rome's decline and fall, with the subsequent havoc wrought by Mohammedanism, and the conflicts of civil and ecclesiastical authorities, were sufficient in themselves to effect a social, intellectual, and moral chaos of a thousand years. Since the advent of Christianity and the fall of pagan nationalism, there had as yet arisen no new civilization worthy to be compared in brill- iancy and grandeur with Rome or Greece, Egypt or Israel of old. History furnishes no other age that may be more philosophically denominated a transitional age. There was a complete and uni- versal shifting of European society from old to new foundations. The pagan ideas of society, the sociologies of culture or of force, had been at work for thousands of years, and in their most brilliant and conspicuous triumphs had but dem- onstrated their fallacy and insufficiency in the problem of a universal civilization. It was dur- ing the disorder and confusion of the fall of the pagan social fabric that the Christian idea of civilization began to operate in laying the foun- dations of a new order of things. This new and divine idea had to contend with many hostile forces ; to work in the darkness and debris ; to The Renaissance. 15 meet and overcome paganism, barbarism, fanati- cism, and even a corrupt ecclesiasticism and de- grading superstition, which were clothed, bnt only clothed, with the beautiful livery of heaven. Standing on the other side of this stupendous transition, the true philosopher of history might have been justified in predicting that the fall of the Roman Empire would be followed by many thousands of years of chaos. And it is not sur- prising to one who stands on this side of the Dark Ages that it took a thousand years for in- tellectual Europe to find her way to a new light and to the promised day. Finally the sky began to clear. Dante ap- peared, the first great epic poet since Virgil. He became the father of Italian song, and made Italian literature classical. He did more. He antagonized the papacy, and protested against the ecclesiastical abuses and corruptions of Rome. He pleaded for righteousness and liberty. He attributed the broken and dismembered con- dition of Italy to the political ambitions and in- trigues of bishops, cardinals, and popes. He laid the crimes of oppression, simony, tyranu)-, sensuality, and political murder at the very doors of the Church. He was banished from Florence through the influence of the papal power. But 1 6 Providential Epochs. he used his pen as warrior never used his sword against his persecutors. Perhaps one of the most reasonable interpretations of the " Divine Comedy" which has appeared is that which rep- resents this great epic as a religio-political at- tack on Rome. This was the position of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, commentator on Dante, and Pro- fessor of Italian in King's College, London. If this interpretation be the true one, then Dante was the first distinguished Protestant, antedat- ing Wyclif, "the morning star of the Reforma- tion," by a lifetime, and preceding Luther by more than two hundred years. Dante embodied both the intellectual and moral spirit of the dawning Renaissance, for we shall find that the epoch was characterized by mental and spiritual reaction from the policy of Rome. Dante was followed by Petrarch and Boccac- cio, who imbibed the literary taste and the an- tipapal politics of the exiled Tuscan. They added elegance to the Italian language, and used their classical wit in a subtle exposure of the cor- ruptions of the priesthood, and the oppressive political ambitions and intrigues of the papacy. Contemporaneous with these bright literary geniuses, shone forth the first rays of light in GIOTTO'S PORTRAIT OF DANTE. The Renaissance. 17 the firmament of art. Cimabue, the painter, Arnolfo, the sculptor and architect, and Giotto, who painted Dante's portrait, and was under the poet's theological if not political influence, came to be recognized as the heralds of the new art era. This was the opening of the fourteenth century. Dante died in 1321. Giotto passed away in 1336. There followed a hundred years of intellectual twilight, of " Darkness changing into gra3\" Then the morning dawned full and glorious upon Florence, " And what a light broke forth When it emerged from darkness!" Before the first quarter of the fifteenth cen- tury had passed, Italy was awake to a new in- tellectual life. This new life turned inquiringly toward antiquity. A reaction had come. It was no longer pious to be ignorant, nor impious to be learned. Independent intellects were begin- ning to rise above the bigotry and superstition which priestcraft had encouraged. There were appearing among the leading thinkers an ap- preciation of the culture of the Greeks and Ro- mans, and a desire to unlock the long-hidden treasures of classic lore. Search was instituted i8 Providential Epochs. for every relic of ancient learning. A perfect mania arose to secure old manuscripts, and of these great collections were formed. These manuscripts of priceless value were assiduously studied and translated for publication. On the fall of the Eastern Empire men of Greek learn- ing poured into Italy, and Florence became the rendezvous of scholars from all parts of the world. The Greek and Latin languages were taught. The works of the old poets and philos- ophers were studied and discussed. The very ruins were read. The stones of Rome began to speak. Buried statues rose out of the earth. Men came forward, with money consecrated to the revival of culture, who were eager to pur- chase precious manuscripts, support lectures, found academies, build libraries, encourage au- thorship and art, and to promote the dawning civilization. Florence and Venice, Milan and Rome, seized the printing-press, and became the centers of publishing establishments whose works have not been excelled in typographical perfection and beauty by all the improvements of modern printing. The presses of Demetrius in Florence ; Pannarts in Rome ; Valdarfer, Jen- son, and Aldus Minutius in Venice, — enriched the land with noble editions of the classics. The Renaissance. 19 Italy became a country of books and libra- ries. The academies and studios were thronged with a new race of geniuses, while above priests and bishops rose wits, poets, artists, and philos- ophers. A new day had brightly dawned. The Dark Ages were of the past. We have tried to indicate some of the re- mote and immediate causes of the Renaissance. These causes are recapitulated, (i) Dante, Pe- trarch, and Boccaccio created an Italian litera- ture, and revived the world's' literary taste. It is even claimed that they belonged to a secret society pledged to antipapal politics, and that secretly they instilled into the more progressive minds the spirit of intellectual freedom. (2) Cimabue, Giotto, and Arnolfo raised art out of oblivion, and gave it its modern impulse, though they were but the heralds of a race of superior geniuses. (3) Constantinople fell before the Turks in 1453, and the remote and secluded scholars of the Greek Church came over into Italy with their remnants of classical learning, embers still aglow snatched from the altars of antiquity, to kindle anew in modern times a taste and culture hardly less refined and noble than that which " Made the olil time splendid." 20 Providential Epochs. Before this, however, the influence of Eastern scholarship had been felt in Italy. In 1439 a Council of Greek and Latin Churches met in Florence to discuss the subject of ecclesiastical union. The Greek Church was represented by men whose classical erudition was in marked contrast to the poor scholarship of the Latin Church. The scholars from Constantinople could speak and teach the language of the Greek poets and philosophers. Their presence and comparatively good learning awakened a new intellectual life in Florence. (4) There was a spontaneous, almost instantaneous advent into the Italian world of a race of geniuses — men who proved themselves great in learning, art, and literature. (5) That mighty civilizing en- gine, the printing-press, was busily at work. These are a few of the many causes of the Renaissance. It may be more philosophical to call these the conditions rather than the causes of this great movement, if we are agreed to look upon this as a providential epoch. To those who recognize God's providential dealings with men and nations, the meeting of the Ecclesiastical Council of 1439 can not be looked upon as a mere accident or coincident. The meeting of the Council was changed from The Renaissance. 21 Ferrara to Florence. During the deliberations of this body Cosmo de' Medici was Gonfaloniere of Florence. He had brought tranquillity to the Republic, amassed a great fortune, and displayed the most public-spirited liberality in the aggran- dizement of the city. This large-minded and progressive man was profoundly impressed with the learning of the Greek Churchmen. He at- tended the lectures given during the Council, and thereby was actuated to encourage the re- vival of Greek culture. He founded a Platonic Academy, invited to Florence the best Greek scholars and teachers then living, and even sup- ported the students in their pursuit of ancient learning. This Council met just when the po- litical tranquillity and financial prosperity of Florence favored study and the refined pursuits of literature and art. Had this Council met at any other city than Florence, or at any other time than during the ascendency of the Medici, it is impossible for us to see how it could have resulted in the remarkable intellectual awaken- ing which it produced in Florence in 1439. It can not seem a mere chance that the print- ing-press came just when the taste for the clas- sics revived, and when there was a universal de- mand for the reproduction of the literary works of 22 Providential Epochs. the ancients; and jnst when libraries were being founded, manuscripts were being discovered and translated, and academies were being endowed for the promotion of learning. Faust, Gutenberg, and Aldus were as provi- dential men as Dante, Wyclif, and Luther. The question may also be asked, How came it that all at once, out of the darkness of the fourteenth century, three great poets and three great artists shone like prophetic stars? There had been no apparent preparation for such men. They can hardly be looked upon as the natural product of the age. They seem to be born before their time. Their enlightenment belongs to later days. But it may just as reasonably be asked, How came it, later on in England, that within the narrow limits of sixty years such geniuses as Sidney, Spenser, Greene, Jonson, Marlowe, Bacon, Raleigh, Shakespeare, and Milton, shone out in their undying brilliancy? What is the philos- ophy of the sudden appearance of that galaxy of geniuses which shed light and glory upon Italy during the fifteenth century, and to whose intel- lectual greatness is due the enlightenment of the Renaissance ? The only true philosophy of it all seems to be this, that there is a power of Providence at work in history, bringing the race, The Renaissance. 23 epoch by epoch and sun by sun, up to a perfect humanism and up to the ideal civilization. We may look upon' this epoch as it reaches its midday brightness through the character and work of its three most powerful and distinguished men, Lorenzo de' Medici, Jerome Savonarola, and Michael Angelo Buonarotti. Lorenzo, popularly named Magnificent, was the most conspicuous and potent political genius of the age, Savonarola was the greatest moral and religious force, and Michael Angelo was the most original and au- thoritative art genius. We may study almost any phase of the Renaissance through these men. They did much to give the epoch its character and historical importance. The intellectual condition of a people is largely determined by their political institutions and by the character of the ruling authorities. The Medici were despots, and yet they were bene- factors. They were accused of robbing the peo- ple of their liberties, but those liberties did not consist of that noble and humane system of checks and privileges which is the groundwork of either a democratic or republican self-gov- ernment. No word had sunken into worse abuse than " liberty." It was the shibboleth of every political faction that sought the highest 24 Providential Epochs. place of power. It meant mobocracy and an- archy, freedom from restraint, and individual in- dependence of law and government. " Liberty" had kept Florence in a perpetual turmoil, with faction fighting faction, family plotting against family, numerous guilds and trades unions con- tending for the political supremacy, and civil authorities antagonizing ambitious ecclesiastical powers. If ever there was a demand for the *' strong man," it was then. If despotic govern- ment ever had a mission in the world it was there, and if any despotism was ever justifiable and beneficial, it was the despotism of the Medici, which brought order out of confusion, and peace out of political and social turmoil. One of the most interesting and influential families of history was the Medici. The most gifted and historically conspicuous members of this family were Cosmo, the founder of its financial prosperity and political influence, the richest man in Italy; Lorenzo the Magnificent, the patron of culture ; Leo X and Clement VII, popes of Rome; and Catherine, "wife of one French king, and mother of three." Modern culture, if not modern freedom, owes more to Lorenzo the Magnificent than to any other member of this illustrous family. He was LORENZO DO' MEDICI. The Renaissance. » 25 the son of Piero, and grandson of Cosmo. On the death of his father Piero, he was invited to the political leadership of Florence in 147 1, at the early age of twenty-three. The influence and greatness of the Medici came to a climax in his career. Symonds may seriously and justly write : " What the intellectual world would have been if the Italian nation had not devoted its energies to the restoration of liberal learning can not even be imagined." As justly may it be added, and how that restoration could have been effected without Lorenzo de' Medici can no more easily be imagined. Of the undaunted political ambition of this elegant despot, there can be no doubt. The ne- cessities of the times may have been its justifi- cation. That very despotism was doubtless the only form of government that could have se- cured peace. In calling Lorenzo a despot, we are not thereby justified in attributing every act of his adminis- tration of affairs to selfish and ambitious mo- tives. It can not be truthfully claimed that this man promoted culture and established peace in Florence and Italy simply from the sinister mo- tives of self-aggrandizement and tyranny. He was richly endowed with a pure taste, a profound 3 26 * Providential Epochs. love of art and literature, a genius for financier- ing and political leadership; and these were su- perior, in their inner control of him, to any despotic influences or mere ambitions for glory and power. IMoreover, there was doubtless a true spirit of liberalism in his nature which rose up in antagonism to the bigotry of Romanism — Romanism in its religio-political character. While he did not possess the devout and religious feel- ing of Dante, he was a true disciple of the polit- ical Dante. He could see, with the grand old Tuscan bard, that Rome aimed at the intellectual and political enslavement of Italy. He was fa- miliar with the intrigues and corruptions of Ro- man ecclesiasticism, and he despised the Church's pretense to holiness as he ridiculed the sancti- monious debauchery, profligacy, and worldly am- bitions of bishops, cardinals, and popes. He opposed the political encroachment of the papal power in its tyrannical design to subdue all the Italian States to Roman control. By a scheming, liberty-hating ecclesiasticism he was looked upon as an enemy of the Church when he was putting forth every effort to establish the political tran- quillity of Italy, secure to every State its rights, restore decayed learning to its ancient glor)-, and lead the age up oiit of its superstitions and ig- The Renaissance. 27 norance to intellectual freedom. Lorenzo may not have seen the Reformation which was logic- ally to follow the Renaissance, nor could he have dreamed of the Protestantism which was to be the fruit of the revival of learning. He worked far better than he knew to bring a higher civili- zation into history than had ever charmed his imagination. He was the man for that great hour, and less a slave of personal ambition than unconsciously the servant of Providence. How- ever completely his qualities may have concealed grave faults, and to however great an extent his wealth, liberality, and love of intellectual prog- ress may have indirectly aided him in establish- ing his prosperity and securing his own political supremacy, it were wholly ungenerous and un- philosophical to brand his virtues of character and his great, beneficent achievements with the suspicion of ignoble impulses and selfish designs. There can be no doubt that we have too credu- lously looked upon Machiavel's exposition of the character of a prince as the very photograph of Lorenzo de' Medici. If the character and achieve- ments of Lorenzo inspired Machiavel's political ethics, which seem detestable to the enlightened thought of the nineteenth century, nevertheless, the same defense which Macaulay makes for 28 Providential Epochs. Machiavel may be offered for Lorenzo. He was the fruit of a cruel and corrupt age. He be- longed to an era that was just coming up out of moral, political, and intellectual chaos. The best morals of the time were pagan. Plato, Aristotle, and Cicero were better ethical teachers than the Church. The pure and simple teachings of Christ and the apostles had been covered up with the corruptions, false doctrines, and tradi- tions of the Middle Ages, and only one sonorous voice was lifted, toward the close of Lorenzo's life, in proclaiming righteousness, liberty, and charity; that was the voice of Savonarola, the man whom Lorenzo hated and dreaded most, but the only priest to whom he was willing to confess as he lay dying in Careggi. We can not expect the men of that time to bear the moral scrutiny of this. We marvel that an age which tolerates a Sixtus IV, an Innocent VIII, an Al- exander VI, and a Lucretia Borgia can produce a Savonarola, a Mirandola, a Michael Angelo, and a Vittoria Colonna. We do not wonder that even Machiavel and Lorenzo de' Medici are looked upon by just historians as good men for the age in which they were called to act their parts. This may be said of Lorenzo: that, among the despots then ruling Italy, he stood, in point of The Renaissance. 29 talents, power, and virtue, the foremost of his time. And if we look abroad toward the rulers of France, Spain, and England, or if we turn our attention to the Roman pontiffs, hardly a charac- ter appears which does not suffer in a compari- son with Lorenzo de' Medici. No sovereign sat upon a European throne, no pope assumed the triple crown, no despot established his power over an Italian State during his supremacy in Florence, who, either in genius or learning, in wealth or liberality, in friendliness to and sup- port of the intellectual revival, was worthy to stoop and unloose the sandals of Lorenzo the Magnificent. But in offering this tribute to his work and worth, we do not wish to conceal the glaring faults of this prince. We have no mantle, save that of charity, with which to cover his multi- tude of sins. If the faults of great men like Lorenzo, Napoleon, Caesar, Diderot, Voltaire, Goethe, Bacon, Byron, and Shakespeare miist be covered, let it not be with the flowers of rhetoric ; let it not be by misrepresentation and falsehood ; but rather by the pure, white mantle of charity; or let them not be hidden at all. The ambition which made Lorenzo a despot, his love of glory and display which prompted a most prodigal ex- 30 Providential Epochs. travagaiice, the worldliness and sensuality which inspired many an excess, must remain in the world's memory as grievous blemishes of an oth- erwise great character and vastly influential life. But when we have scrutinized Solomon in the midst of all his glory; Belshazzar, exulting in his Babylonian splendor ; Alexander, in the full flush of his greatness and dominion ; Pericles, in his Athenian pride and prosperity ; the Ccesars, in their imperial supremacy ; the Stuarts, the Tudors, and the Plantagenets, in all the pomp and magnificence of their reigns ; and the Napoleons, the Bourbons, the Orleanses, and the Valois, in their most splendid power, — we are disposed to look upon the Medici of Florence with a kind- lier eye, and with less asperity to criticise the acknowledged faults and sins of Lorenzo. There was not a man in Italy, or in all Eu- rope, at that period, who, as a politician, a finan- cier, a scholar, and a friend to intellectual prog- ress combined, was worthy to be compared to the Magnificent. Through the genius, philanthropy, and political sagacity of this despot there came iipon Italy a peace and prosperity which that country had not known for a thousand years. This happy state of external tranquillity, as we have stated, favored the most intense intellectual The Renaissance. 31 activity that the world had experienced since the days of Augustus. In the midst of this political rest and financial ease the revival of art and learning made rapid progress, reminding the world of the days when the Greeks were charmed with the art of Phidias and Apelles, and of the age of Augustus, when the Romans took pride in the sublime song of Virgil and the learned periods of Livy. Florence was the center of this reviving culture, as it was of the financial and political life of Italy, while the patronage of Lo- renzo made the palace of the Medici the center of Florence ; hence, the center of the intellect- ual world. Lorenzo was perhaps the most elegantly edu- cated ruler of his day — the most highly accom- plished in all that pertained to polite learning and aesthetic culture. His own poetic genius was of an order to warrant Sismondi in saying : " The first man to whom may be attributed the restoration of Italian poetry was one of the greatest of his own and of succeeding ages — Lorenzo de' Medici, Chief of the Florentine Re- public, and political arbiter of the whole State of Italy." But even more may be said to Lorenzo's credit as a man of literarv taste and genius than 32 Providential Epochs. that he was the restorer of Italian poetry, and one of the finest political geniuses of his age ; for in his encouragement of every branch of learning, in his liberal patronage of all who gave promise of scholarship or literary taste and pro- ductiveness, in his hearty welcome to and friend- liness for genius and ability in whomsoever it might appear, in his personal relations of munifi- cence to schools and academies, he displayed that spirit which entitled him to wear without re- proach the name of " Magnificent." To his high credit be it said, Lorenzo invited the companionship of the most intellectual men of the age. It was not the rough soldier, the scheming politician, the sordid money-maker, nor the fawning courtier that won the society, the admiration, and the favor of this prince. He enjoyed the company of geniuses, the converse of the learned, the society and personal intimacy of poets, philosophers, wits, artists, statesmen, and teachers. With his name, therefore, must be associated the names of the high-minded of that age. Conspicuous among these were : Fi- cino, the foremost Platonic scholar ; Politian, master of Greek and Latin lore, accomplished wit, philosopher, and poet; Landino, the inter- preter of Dante and the regenerator of Dantean The Renaissance. 33 Italian ; the youthful Machiavel, the most subtle- minded publicist ; Pico, the Prince of Mirandola, elegant in culture, refined in manners, public- spirited and liberal toward the intellectual move- ment of his time ; Pulci, the charming orator ; and Alberti, the universal scholar and many- sided genius. Happy the age enlightened by such intellects! Great — essentially great — the man whose tastes attract the companionship, and whose liberality encourages the development, of geniuses like these! Lorenzo had as pure a taste for art, and as noble an ambition to aid its progress and devel- opment, as he had for literature and the advance- ment of learning. Not only had he established and vastly enriched the most valuable library in Europe, where precious manuscripts of ancient literature were deposited, but Lorenzo's house was a depository of paintings, sculptures, coins, engraved stones, rare gems and antiquities, which were the envy of native princes and of foreign kings. It was admitted that the finest treasures in all the world were collected in the house of the Magnificent. The traveler who to-day stands entranced among the art treasures of the Ufiizi Gallery in Florence, and carries from that enchanted spot, 34 Providential Epochs. through many lands and many years, an indeli- ble and delightful memory thereof, must feel in- debted to the Medici, and in particular to Lo- renzo, by whose taste, liberality, and noble ambition many of those glorious creations of genius and those immortal expressions of beauty were accumulated. Lorenzo's ambition was not satisfied, how- ever, with merely collecting art treasures for his eyes to feast upon to the satiety of his inborn love of beauty, but he also endeavored to give every encouragement and incentive to the awak- ening and development of an aesthetic taste and a genius for art, and to the production of great works in architecture, painting, and sculpture. At a vast expense he turned the Gardens of St. Mark into a school of the highest plastic art, where the ancient models were studied, and a taste for the antique was created and fostered into genius. True, since the first dawn of the Renaissance many noble and gifted artists had passed away, but a new generation of geniuses had appeared; and we find Lorenzo surrounded by a class of artists far superior to those who had come up under the patronage of his grand- father Cosmo. Florence was rich in master- pieces of sculpture and architecture before Lo- The Renaissance. 35 renzo's time. Giotto, Brunelleschi, Aiigelico, Ghiberti, and Donatello had already embellished the beautiful city with those miracles of art which, even to this day, are the glory of Flor- ence and the pride of Italy. The Campanile of Giotto, Brunelleschi's dome, Ghiberti's wonderful gates of bronze, and some of Donatello's works of sculpture, remain in many respects unique and peerless in beauty, though it can not be ques- tioned that these great men were followed by a still higher order of geniuses under the inspira- tion of a more profound and universal art en- thusiasm, and of a more liberal patronage and vigorous rivalry. The progress in painting was even more marked than in sculpture and archi- tecture, and greater improvement was made on Cimabue, Giotto, and Masaccio, than per- haps could have been made on Brunelleschi, Ghiberti, and Donatello. Lorenzo's age was adorned with the names and achievements of such artists as Lippi, Ghirlandaio, INIantegna, Perugino, Bramante, Leonardo da Vinci, and Michael Angelo. All these artists, with the ex- ceptions of Bramante and da Vinci, felt the in- fluence and enjoyed, to some degree at least, the patronage of Lorenzo. The four greatest artists of the Renaissance were born before 36 Providential Epochs. Lorenzo passed away. When the Magnificent died, in 1492, Titian and Raphael were but boys ; Leonardo da Vinci was in his prime of manhood and power ; and Michael Angelo was a youth of eighteen years, at work in the school of sculp- ture, and enjoying the affection and favor of the prince, who had taken him from his father to educate him in art. Lorenzo has been desig- nated not only as the patron of Platonic philos- ophy, the promoter of learning and literature, the regenerator of Italian poetry, and the political arbiter of Italy for his time, but also, and as if it were a still more glorious distinction, he must be known as the man who *' kindled and fanned the flame of genius in the breast of Michael Angelo." Florence and the Medicean patronage were the center and original impulse of the glorious enthusiasm for high art which swept over all Italy. The Tuscan splendor was emulated. The Florentine love of beauty was imbibed by sister States. Leonardo da Vinci, though out of all sympathy with the Medici, was nevertheless a Florentine. He kindled a glorious flame of art enthusiasm in Lombardy. Angelo wrought in Florence and in Rome.. Venice, "a glorious city in the sea," became The Renaissance. 37 brilliant with the achievements of those princely colorists, Titian, Veronese, and Tintoretto. Parma came to exult in the wonderful works of Correggio, who could look upon the master- pieces of Raphael, and still exclaim : "And I, too, am a painter." Thus all Italy was finally ablaze from the light kindled in Florence largely by the liberality and culture of the Medici, and more particularly by the uncommon genius of Lorenzo the Magnificent. Few characters in history present more marked contradictions, a more heterogeneous mingling of great qualities and great faults, than this Florentine despot. He was a sensualist and a philosopher, a despot and a benefactor, a politician and a poet, a debauchee and patron of art and learning, cruel and benevolent, worldly and scholarly, mean and magnificent. His gos- pel was simply a gospel of culture; his religion intellectuality. Lorenzo inspired no moral greatness in his people or age. We find here, as we may find in the study of Jerusalem and Solomon, of Babylon and Nebuchadnezzar, of Athens and Pericles, of Rome and Augustus, of France and Louis XIV, of England and Elizabeth, that a nation and a people may be highly cultured in art and scholarship, in poetry, philosophy, sci- 38 Providential Epochs. ence, and even theology, without being pure, he- roic, and humane. Brilliant genius, profound erudition, and elegant manners may be wedded to a sensual, even cruel moral nature. One may cultivate the arts and sciences, drink deeply at the well of philosophy, adorn his mind with a knowledge of the wisdom, wit, and song of the classic ages, become intellectual, aesthetic, rich, and powerful, without attaining to that moral no- bility and disinterestedness of motive, that love of right and man and God, which are essential to the highest style of character, and to the most en- during greatness. We find Lorenzo de' Medici deformed by the same immoralities which blem- ished the characters of Solomon, Alexander the Great, Pisistratus, Julius Caesar, Louis XI\', and Napoleon, while, though superior in genius and learning, he was lacking in those high virtues and noble qualities of soul which belonged to Cromwell, Washington, Gustavus Adolphus, and William of Orange ; and to those noble sons and benefactors of Italy, Victor Emmanuel, Cavour, and Garibaldi. Lorenzo de' Medici was not the moral reformer of the Renaissance. The first problem to be solved in the founda- tion-work of the new civilization was an intel- lectual problem — the emancipation of reason, the SAVONAROLA. The Renaissance. 39 liberty of thought, the settlement of the prerog- atives of culture, and the mission of literature, art, and science in modern history. Lorenzo de' Medici may not have seen the end toward which his powers toiled and achieved. Nevertheless, he put himself, his splendid genius and activi- ties, into this work of intellectualism, on which the higher social fabric must necessarily rest. Lorenzo, even with his autocratic, despotic spirit, could not solve the problem of his age single- handed and alone. Others wrought heroically to establish this foundation — this first secure resting-point for the imposing superstructure of freedom. In 1452, as the dawn of the new learning was spreading over Italy, there was born in Ferrara one who was destined to attract as much atten- tion and create as profound a sensation as any man in his time. This man, Jerome Savonarola, was a monk at the age of twenty-three. Though up to this period nothing of great moment had occurred in this young life, nevertheless one skilled in the interpretation of the human face might have suggested that something important was likely to happen at any instant in the soul which kindled those eyes into flames and knot- ted that brow into meditations. That is a face 40 Providential Epochs. to attract attention. Every feature indicates strength. The prominent, hooked nose ; the large and rugged brow ; the burning, heavily- lashed eyes ; the large, strong mouth ; the deli- cate, finely-wrought nervous system ; a face "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought," are significant of character which, sooner or later, may be expected to make itself felt in power and authority among men. But those who knew him well had come to have their thoughts about this boy Jerome before he had startled the world by his power. Savonarola was a natural mys- tic, possessed of an essentially devout, unworldly nature. He communed with his own heart and thought much while yet a boy. He easily grew sick of the vain pomp and glory of the world. His great blue eyes had often wepft over the world's misery and sin, when the eyes of priests and bishops, and of cardinals and popes, were dry as stones. Alone, in meditative and prayer- ful mood, he often strolled through olive-groves and the blooming fields, and by the streams whose solemn monotone made harmony with the beating of his serious, sorrowing heart. While yet a lad his mind displayed great vigor and subtlety. He grasped truth in all its forms with eagerness, so that he became the wonder and The Renaissance. 41 admiration of his instructors. He mastered the subtleties of Aristotle and St. Thomas Aquinas, and exhausted the whole range of the scholasti- cism of his time. The Bible, however, was to him the supreme Book. This he hid in his heart, like one of old. He was given also to poetical fancies, and with no mean success courted the sacred muse. His parents came to regard him as their most promising son, and, with worthy pride and ambition, destined him to the profession of medicine, the foremost profes- sion of the day. He was destined, however, by a higher Power, to become a physician, not to the bodies of men, but to the corrupt morals and manners, to the sick nation and age that sur- rounded him. At the age of twenty there came a new light into those great eyes, which ever burned under the knotted brow like watch-fires under the tow- ering mountain. That new light was the light of love, kindled there by the grace and beauty of an exiled Florentine, who boasted the noble blood and name of Strozzi. But that light was soon quenched, and quenched forever, by the haughty refusal of the Strozzi to recognize the equal nobility of Savonarola. The last cord which bound this strong soul to the world had 4 42 Providential Epochs. thus been broken. All this may have contrib- uted to his after strength and greatness.. There are men in history whom Providence seems to have foreordained to a high and holy celibacy necessitated by their mission in the world ; and there seems to be no violation of the law of the fitness of things when such men as Elijah, John the Baptist, Paul, Michael Angelo, Leonardo da- Vinci, and Savonarola live alone, and, single- handed, single-hearted, do their mighty work for God and man. There was a destiny before Sa- vonarola quite irreconcilable with his tender af- fection for the lovely Florentine. And yet his cheek flushed with proud passion, his eyes fired with the lightning of anger, and his eloquent lips said stinging, hurting words in retaliation for the scorn of the proud girl-^and the charm was broken. He became more thoughtful than ever, more secluded, more penitent and prayer- ful. The world lost for him its every enchant- ment, and the life of the recluse assumed an irresistible fascination. The convent seemed to the devout mind of Savonarola a refuge from the storm and a haven from the tempest. The cowl and garb of the monk became vestments more beautiful and honorable than the crown and robe of royalty, while the inmates of con- The Renaissance. 43 vents and the dignitaries of the Church were more like angels than men to his over-sanguine imagination. Alas that all these things should prove disappointing delusions to his devout and most sincere heart! He found the convent a moral pest-house; monks and nuns were lepers of sensuality ; priests, bishops, cardinals, and popes were princes of profligacy ; the cowl and miter, red cap and tiara, were the adornments of ignorance, superstition, hypocrisy, and arch vil- lainy. He who had sought the companionship of monks and priests for sympathy and spiritual affinity found them whited sepulchers. He who had turned to the convent to study the Bible found that pagan Aristotle and his half-under- stood philosophy had superseded Jesus and his heavenly Word. He who had turned to the Church for light, peace, and rest, found darkness, discord, envy, rivalry, greed, and profligacy. Where Savonarola expected to find spirituality, he found bestiality/;'' where he sought for peace, he discovered contention ; where he turned for purity and chastity, he beheld corruption ; where he looked for the reign of love, he gazed through his tears upon the reign of lust and cruelty. He asked for a fish, but they gave him a ser- pent ; he asked for bread, but they gave him a 44 Providential Epochs. stone^yes, a scorpion. So would it have been, so was it, to every devout soul that turned for light and truth and spiritual good to the Church of Rome in the fifteenth century. Savonarola, therefore, forever sincere, devout, and conscientious, found rising within him, not only disappointment and grief, but holy indigna- tion and a strong, unquenchable spirit of pro- testation, which were but the first mutterings of that fiery volcano of rebuke and warning, threat- ening and exhortation, which was to burst upon the Church and nation, and entitle him forever to be known as the preacher, reformer, and mar- tyr of the Italian Renaissance. The appointment of Savonarola to the chair of Belles-Lettres and Metaphysics in the con- vent of Bologna was a recognition of his superior intellectuality and scholarship ; yet it in no de- gree harmonized with his tastes and feelings to be assigned the duty of instilling into the minds of young priests the philosophy of Aristotle. It was there, however, that a career opened before him of which he had never dreamed, and which, had he anticipated it, might have dissuaded him from entering the monastery. Perhaps no thought was more foreign to his mind the morning he turned his back iipon his home in Ferrara than The Renaissance. 45 that he should become a preacher, much less a reformer; and, least of all, a martyr/. He turned to the convent for rest, seclusion, study, medita- tion, separation from the turmoil of the world. Yet the entrance of Savonarola to a monastic life meant, in the divine order of things, that he should become a preacher. For such a magnifi- cent combination of intellect, mysticism, learn- ing, conviction, courage, devotion, zeal, and elo- quence to turn preacher, meant to become reformer; and to become reformer in Italy, in the fifteenth century, meant martyrdom. ■' Savonarola discovered the logic of his destiny as soon as the first premise was laid down in the order of Divine Providence, and as soon as he had fully assumed the vows of a monk. He knew what he must be, and what he must do and suffer, if he became a preacher. He could tell the end from the beginning, because he knew himself, and he knew the age in which he must act. There was nothing supernatural in his pre- dicting his own martyrdom after he had once consented to unseal his lips, and let the concen- trated wrath that was in him leap forth in con- suming flames. When we hear him praying for martyrdom, and soliciting it, we have no suspi- cion of bravado, hypocrisy, or charlatanism on 46 Providential Epochs. his part, but we feel that this is his way of spur- ring himself up to that sublime self-surrender, that loyalty to conscience and truth, which, in so sinful an age, must reap the fiery harvest of martyrdom if they prove the soul genuine and heroic enough to please God and merit eter- nal life. Savonarola continued to teach and lecture in the convent at Bologna for seven years. During this period he proved to his own satisfaction the sophistry of Aristotle and the vitiating tenden- cies of all pagan philosophy and culture. Here also, and at the same time, he laid the founda- tion for his future extraordinary power as a preacher by a deep study and learned mastery of the Bible. At the age of thirty he stepped into a broader arena of activity and influence than that of rhet- oric and metaphysics. He appeared in Florence, which was destined to be the scene of the re- markable events in his remarkable career. Florence had come to occupy the foremost rank among the splendid cities of Italy and of the world. In financial prosperity and commer- cial importance no city could compete with the fair city of Tuscany. She had become the po- litical ruler of all Italy, so that even Venice, The Renaissance. 47 Pisa, Milan, and Rome, though jealous of her power, acknowledged her supremacy in the po- litical affairs of Italy. But in a more conspicu- ous and unapproachable degree Florence was the center of the glorious revival of art and learn- ing, which not only lighted up Italy, but spread its brightness over Europe, and was destined to fill the whole earth with its glory. When Savonarola, at the age of thirty, first came to Florence, the Medici were in the me- ridian splendor of their greatness. Lorenzo the Magnificent was supreme, and the beautiful city was then, as it is still, exulting in the glory which had been born of the magnificence of this elegant despot. From every land — from Spain and England, Germany and France — inquiring minds came to drink at the fountain of learning which sprang up in the very palace of the Medici, and to lave in the crystal streams of poetry, philosophy, and classical learning which flowed therefrom in un- restrained freedom. Florence, in the fifteenth century, was the Mecca of culture — a great, beautiful, and fascinating city, rivaled in the wonders of its history by no capital of earth save Rome. Hither comes the conviction-driven Sav6narola to preach to a people who need it 48 Providential Epochs. greatly the old gospel of holiness and charity. With all its wealth, art, and learning, Florence has more sins to repent of, more wicked ways to mend, more sonls that need conversion, than any city in Italy or ont of it. This wealth, art, and learning prove to be no surer an antidote for moral corruption in Florence than they did in imperial Rome, aesthetic Athens, voluptuous Cor- inth, and splendid Babylon of old. As our hooded Dominican friar, with his great brow, his great mouth, his great eyes, and his great soul, full of great convictions, comes for the first time into the midst of the glories of this beautiful but wicked Florence, wonder, awe, and hesitation, not immingled with admiration, hope, and prayer, take possession of his mind. Before him rise, in all their solid grandeur, the palaces of the Pitti and of the Medici, displaying not only great wealth in their construction, but also the finest architecture of modern Italy. The Palazzo Vecchio, simple, stern, and fortress-like, with its tower and famous bell, stands there guarding the square that is yet to be lighted up with a strange and tragic flame of martyrdom. There, too, is the Loggia to attract the eye, but, as yet, quite unadorned by Cellini's masterpiece and those fine forms of Greek and Roman art The Renaissance. 49 which, in our day, make Florence and her beau- tiful Loggia the shrine of many a pilgrimage of culture. Now the j^oiing monk stands in amaze- ment and delight before the bronze gates of Ghiberti, which decorate the marble baptistery. As his eye reads thereon, wrought into such beauty as bronze had never assumed before, the sacred events of Bible history, doubtless he thinks what Angelo afterward exclaimed : "They are worthy to be the gates of Paradise." He turns, and lo ! rising in airy grace, the Campa- nile of Giotto throws such a spell of beauty o'er his vision that he doubts if human genius ever created that marble miracle, and wonders whether angelic architects did not build the glorious tower, and whether fairies in their beauty do not dwell therein. But now, most wondrous triumph of the early Tuscan genius, eternal pride of Florence, and boast of classic Italy, the dome of Brunelleschi bursts upon the young monk's bewil- dered view, and he stands entranced before that architectural magnificence, which he little thinks is yet to echo and thunder with his own mighty declamation. Finally Savonarola turns hissteps, we may imagine, toward the solemn cloisters of St. Mark. As the hooded stranger enters this, his new home, a spell of sacred enchantment 50 Providential Epochs. seems to bind him. I Here it is that holy Atito- nino, like an angel, passed his life of virtue and benevolence, and the sweet fragrance of his memory lingers in the convent still. These walls and cloisters seem consecrated, and the feelings of this stranger monk are wrought into a fine feeling of devotion as he hears the story told again of how the "good Bishop of Florence" lived and worked for the glory of Christ and the happiness of man. Again, as he looks on those walls and ceilings of St. Mark, in cell and clois- ter, inspired visions of beauty seem to rise be- fore him ; for, with tearful eyes and swelling heart, and lips unsealed with holy wonder, he gazes, and grows not weary as he gazes, on the exquisite creations of the pencil of Angelico ; for here the artist-monk, the "angelic painter," wrought those forms of sacred beauty which are still, in their fading glory, the admiration of the world ; here the devout artist had often knelt in prayer, to ask that He who had decked the flow- ers in their unrivaled beauty and garnished the heavens with their eternal splendors might in- spire his humble pencil to paint for the glory of Christ ; and those angelic faces, those forms of the Madonna and the Savior, were painted there upon the convent walls while tears rolled The Renaissance. 51 down the cheeks of the devout, almost inspired painter. With the spirits of the good Antonino and the devout Angelico, Savonarola seemed to commune that day when first he entered the cloister of St. Mark; and, as he threw himself upon his humble cot that night, he doubtless thought : "Of all the fairest cities of the earth, None is so fair as Florence." But alas ! Florence was fair only in external- ities ; her beauty was in marble, not in morals. With the revival of commerce, the increase of riches, the dawning of a new intellectual life, there had come a reign of extravagance, of aes- thetic worldliness, and of pagan sensuality. The Bible was neglected by the intellectual class for Plato, Homer, Cicero, and Virgil, while the peo- ple in common turned with a sensual avidity to the love-songs of Petrarch and the amorous tales of Boccaccio. The churches were empty, the academies and places of festivity were crowded, the Sabbath was a day of gayety instead of wor- ship, and the life of the people was poisoned with the pagan ideas of the revived classics, while society was intoxicated with the love of pleasure. Tormented with the thoughts of the people's 52 Providential Epochs. wickedness, the monk would throw all his en- ergies into the work of reforming society. It was a task worthy of a great intellect and a mighty soul, not to be accomplished by an ig- noramus or a fanatic. Florence was given np to culture. The streets, the banks, the studios, the academies, and the Senate were full of the finest geniuses in the world, the best philoso- phers, poets, wits, scholars, financiers, and states- men. A preacher, too, the city had, of great abilities, a master of rhetoric and melodious speech, a favorite of Lorenzo, the idol of the schoolmen. The learned and noble gathered about him, and never wearied of the charm of his rolling periods and the rich cadences of his musical voice, for Gennazzanno was the prince of the Florentine pulpit. The first efforts of the reformer in this brill- iant capital were a failure. There was neither grace nor beauty in him. His manner, like his presence, was plain, homely, and angular. He spoke with hesitation, and was afflicted with some infirmity of utterance. His diction was innocent of art and elegance, while quotations from classic poets and pagan philosophers found no place in his sermons. He preached to empty benches; for the multitude were elsewhere hang- The Renaissance. 53 ing on the lips of Gennazzanno, However dis- tasteful the unvarnished truth may become to a wicked but polite age, )-et the superficial gloss and glitter of rhetoric, the sounding brass and and clanging cymbal of mere eloquence, seldom lose their witchery, and rarely fail to charm the thoughtless crowd. Savonarola left Florence in disappointment, acknowledging with deep chagrin his utter fail- ure as' a reformer, although his sorrow grew not out of his own personal unpopularity so much as out of the unpopularity of the great triiths he came to preach. He grieved in dis- appointment, not because few came to hear Sa- vonarola, and many went to hear Gennazzanno, but because few came to hear the teaching of David and Isaiah, of John apd of Christ, while many went to have their ears tickled with the poetical and philosophical felicities of Homer, Virgil, Tully, and Plato. Undoubtedly the Re- naissance was becoming more pagan than Chris- tian in spirit. The very Church was as thor- oughly paganized as culture. The new preacher returned to Bologna with the conviction half formed that preaching was not his mission. With his uncouth presence, harsh voice, angular, ungraceful manners, and 54 Providential Epochs. impediment of speech, he might easily have per- suaded himself that he had not the qualifica- tions of a preacher, and that in undertaking such a work his zeal had gotten the better of his judgment. But no ; with as many natural defi- ciencies as originally embarrassed Demosthenes, so with as great a determination as the Grecian orator displayed, he conquered his infirmities.// Richard Brinsley Sheridan broke down and failed in his first speech before the British Parliament, but with commendable self-appreciation and am- bition he exclaimed :'" It is in me, and it shall come out." It was in Savonarola ; he knew it, and he was resolved it should come out. By a year's time the stammering monk was preach- ing with a fluency, charm, and force that were prophetic of the coming eloquence which was to shake Italy,/ and rival in its influence upon the multitude the most charming and impetuous oratory that ever leaped from the lips of Tully or Demosthenes. The awkard, homely, unpol- ished, harsh-voiced Savonarola was to be the preacher of the Renaissance, while the popu- larity of the graceful, scholastic, honey-tongued Gennazzanno was to be destroyed forever by the thunders, lightnings, and storm of the young Dominican's pulpit power. The Renaissance. 55 From the chief cities of Lombardy, where he preached after retiring from San Lorenzo in Florence, the fame of Savonarola began to spread throughout Italy. By the year 1487, at the age of thirty-five, every obstruction had been swept away, the floodgates lifted, and the rolling tor- rents of the reformer's impetuous and resistless eloquence had broken forth. Already the lec- turer had become a preacher, and the preacher a reformer. This new and mighty preacher of righteousness had not, during his absence from Florence, been adding superficial elegance to his manners and methods, nor had he become popu- lar by imitating the studied graces and pedantic ornaments of the polished Gennazzanno. He had never departed from his motto: "Elegance in language must give way before simplicity in preaching and sound doctrine." He did not preach merely to delight the ears of rhetoricians, kindle the admiration of philosophers, poets, and scholars, nor to win the friendship and pat- ronage of the rich and powerful./^/' He spoke "right on" in the most vigorous, unrelenting, sin-pounding eloquence against the corruptions of the Church, the disorders of society, the worldliness and sensuality of the people, and the general ungodliness of the times. The people 56 Providential Epochs. flocked to hear this new and startling sort of preaching, and they soon came to regard Sa- vonarola as an inspired prophet. As they list- ened they became troubled. Conscience awoke. The long-smoldering embers of devout convic- tions leaped into flames of new religious zeal, if not fanaticism. A new Elijah, a modern Jere- miah, an Italian Isaiah, a fifteenth-century John the Baptist, had come to condemn sin and exhort to repentance, and to preach faith, forgiveness, chastity, love, and brotherhood. The people were pricked in their hearts ; they sighed and wept ; they cried aloud in the alarm of deep conviction ; they confessed, hu- miliated themselves, turned to prayer and wor- ship; and, in the enthusiasm of a new conversion, they extolled the power, and even asserted the inspiration, of the wonderful preacher/ Learned men sat spellbound under the Prate's fiery elo- quence, as at a later time Franklin, Hume, Gar- rick, and Bolingbroke became enthusiastic ad- mirers of the oratorical genius of Whitefield. Pi >, the learned and elegant prince of Miran- dola, became a zealous convert; and, as the fame of Savonarola was spreading over Italy, he per- suaded Lorenzo de' Medici to call the preacher back to Florence. In 1489, just seven years The Renaissance. 57 after he had left that city in humiliation and disappointment, Savonarola once more stood up in Florence to preach. St. Mark was thronged with eager, expectant listeners, who trembled and sobbed, and swayed to and fro like a tem- pest-beaten forest. On that memorable day, we are told, the prophet's eloquence was terrific. All Florence was in excitement. Gennazzanno was deserted and forgotten. The academies turned from Homer, Plato, and Tully to discuss the merits of Savonarola. The learned doctors delivered their lectures to empty benches. Pol- iticians wore a look of anxiety. Monks, nuns, and priests scowled in alarm and rage. The people took to much wise nodding, busy talking, and discussion among themselves in shop and home and public square. There was but one theme — " Savonarola." The popular career of the reformer in Flor- ence had begun. He had gained a hearing. The problem of an audience had been solved. Empty benches no longer greeted him, but a perfect sea of anxious, upturned faces met .jiis gaze wherever he stood up to preach. His au- diences grew too large for St. Mark, too large for the Church of the Annunciata, and too large for the great cathedral ; for all Florence poured 5 58 Providential Epochs. out to hear him, while the thiinder of his elo- quence not only made the dome of Brunelleschi reverberate, but made Florence and all her pal- aces quake, and was yet to startle all Italy, if not all Europe. Lorenzo the Magnificent grew restive ; politicians became alarmed ; priests and bishops looked anxious ; monks and nuns trem- bled; and the pope raved in anger as the re- former dealt his terrific blows at the ecclesiastical abuses of his time, as this friend and champion of the people assailed the Medicean despotism, and with clarion voice advocated liberty for the people and republicanism for the State. Against the unbelief, extravagance, darkness, and sensu- ality which followed upon the heels of Floren- tine prosperity; against the superstitious and tyrannical practices of the very dignitaries of the Church, but one voice in all Italy was raised. One voice, strong and resonant, sounded the alarm, and uttered the hot word of condemna- tion and warning. It was heard from the con- fessional to the Vatican, from the factory to the palace, crying: "Woe! woe! woe! Repent, my people! repent!" This fearless preacher could be tolerated in Florence but three years. He became troublesome to the ruling powers, both in Church and in State, It was soon evident The Renaissance. 59 that there was not room enough in Florence for a Savonarola and a Medici. Though Lorenzo was instrumental in bringing the monk to Flor- ence, and in securing for him the priorship of St. Mark, yet the wily despot could not make a political tool out of this independent reformer. Savonarola was the friend and champion of the people; an uncompromising enemy of tyranny and despotism ; a zealous, clarion-voiced advo- cate of liberty and republicanism. He had no sympathy whatever with the Medici, who, as he thought, had robbed the Florentines of their an- cient liberties, and riveted upon them the golden shackles of a splendid but most absolute despot- ism. The reformer, therefore, asked no favors of Lorenzo, who was very anxious to heap favors upon him. The proud despot paid respectful attention to the humble friar's teaching ; was frequently at mass; contributed most liberally to the support of the convent, and even put himself in the friar's way to be solicited for ad- vice and benefits. Nevertheless, the preacher preserved a haughty and aggravating independ- ence. He believed that much of the very cor- ruptions of society, many of the vices that then poisoned the life-blood of Florentine manners, had been introduced by Lorenzo. iVs the Frate 6o Providential Epochs. continued to hurl his thunderbolts of denuncia- tion against the social, political, and ecclesias- tical evils of the times, Lorenzo began to think of curbing the preacher's fury and quenching that dangerous enthusiasm which was beginning to make despotic politicians and corrupt ecclesi- astics most uncomfortably restive. It had galled the Magnificent that Savonarola did not call upon him and pay him homage on his entrance to the priorship of St. Mark, as his predecessors had done; and the Medici had not forgotten the answer which Savonarola gave to one who sug- gested that such homage was his duty. " Do I owe this appointment to God, or to Lorenzo de' Medici?" asked the indignant prior. "To God, undoubtedly," was the reply. " Suffer me, then," he rejoined, "to pay homage to God, and not to man." But when Lorenzo sent five of the lead- ing citizens of Florence to remonstrate with the friar, and to admonish him to cease his denun- ciations of the Roman Court and of the ruling powers in Church and State, the indignant and fearless prophet answered them: "Tell him to repent of his sins; for the Lord spares no one, and has no fear of the princes of the earth." And, when threatened with exile, he made the significant reply: " I have no fear of your ban- The Renaissance: 6i ishment, for this city is no more than a grain of lentils on the earth; but although I am a stranger, and Lorenzo is not only a citizen, but the first among them, it is I who will remain, and he who shall leave the city." The preacher was right. In less than a year Lorenzo the Magnificent lay dying at Careggi. In that su- preme moment, when the wisdom, wit, and phi- losophy of such lifelong companions as Ficino, Politian, Mirandola, and Pulci failed to divert his mind or give him peace of soul, with an honesty which will ever reflect credit upon his character, the dying despot cried : " Send to St. Mark and call Savonarola ; I know no honest friar but him." Savonarola hastened to the bedside of his dying enemy, to offer the consolations of religion and to shrive the despot for eternity. Lorenzo was leaving Florence ; Savonarola was still to remain. Call it a shrewd guess ; call it a coin- cidence, if you will ; that age called it the ful- fillment of Savonarola's prophecy. Lorenzo, in much distress of mind, was about to make his last confession, when the stern friar of St. Mark demanded of him three things, viz.: that he have faith in Christ; that he make restitution of all moneys and properties which he had obtained 62 Providential Epochs. from others unjustly, and that he restore liberty to the Florentines. The first two requirements Lorenzo assented to ; but when the last request fell from the lips of the unyielding priest, the expiring despot, rallying his failing energies, suddenly turned his face to the wall with silent grief and speechless indignation. Without leav- ing his priestly benediction, Savonarola turned and strode from the room, and, drawing his cowl over his burning eyes, sought his humble cell in the solemn cloisters of St. Mark. Undoubtedly the most reliable authorities accept this (the Mirandola) version of the dramatic death-scene. These two great men could not understand each other. Neither could appreciate the other's power, worth, and mission. We do not pretend to give any explanation of the predictions or prophecies of Savonarola. That he predicted the early death of Lorenzo and of Pope Innocent VIII, and of the King of Naples, is true, and that his prediction was verified is also true. That he warned the people of ap- proaching evils — such as famine, pestilence, war, and subjugation by a foreign foe — is admitted; and that these evils were visited upon Italy, and especially upon Florence, can not be denied. That these evils came to scourge the people for The Renaissance. 63 their sins is a theory which presents impossi- bilities and absurdities only to rationalistic un- belief. But that Savonarola was divinely in- spired to prophesy these events is a proposition full of difficulties for any and every school of faith except the very one that condemned Sa- vonarola, and hung him in the flames. In the sermons of the so-called prophet, startling pre- dictions of coming calamities followed one upon another. And as they were getting themselves verified in passing events, the power of the new prophet increased. He preached against gam- bling and usury, against extravagant fashions and all forms of excess, against business dis- honesty and political intrigue, so that gamblers ceased to ply their trade, usurers conscience- smitten began to make restitution of ill-gotten wealth, the women laid aside their jewelry and gaudy dress and assumed modest attire, and shops were closed on Sunday and during preaching. The people delighted in listening to the once uncouth and stammering Savonarola as he now stood up in the pulpit of Florence, and poured forth such majestic eloquence as has found no parallel in modern oratory. Not the enthusiasm of a St. Bernard, not the vigor and dauntless fury of a Knox, not the magnetic eloquence of 64 Providential Epochs. the learned and impetuous Chalmers, not Mas- sillon's pomp and grace, not the rolling periods of the princely Bossuet, not Whitefield's thrill- ing pathos, nor the startling thunders of Ed- wards's declamation, ever rose to that majestic power and almost superhuman grandeur which characterized the impetuous eloquence of Sa- vonarola. His great eyes flashed as with the fire of the lightnings; his homely features became radiant as an angel's ; his gestures, full of anima- tion, gave weighty emphasis to the words which he uttered, and startling vividness to the pic- ture of his glowing imagination ; his voice shook the temple with its sonorous power, and thrilled the listening multitude with the alarm of terri- ble convictions. Enthusiastic listeners beheld angels hovering over him while he preached. People sobbed, and wailed, and cried aloud with consternation and heart-breaking repentance, as he imcovered their sins, uttered his predictions, explained the Word of God, and exhorted them, with tears rolling down his cheeks, to repent and believe, to turn from their evil ways to ways of virtue, love, and peace. The notion must not be entertained that Sa- vonarola was a mere ignorant and unthinking enthusiast. Perhaps his superior in intellectual The Renaissance. 65 force could not have been found among his ec- clesiastical contemporaries. Not in the Platonic Academy, not in learned Florence, not in all re- viving Italy, could there have been found a more original, acute, and philosophical mind. No scholar could boast of more learning. The sub- tilties and beauties of Aristotle and Plato were not more familiar to Ficino and Politian than to Savonarola. He was a natural-born orator as truly as was Demosthenes, notwithstanding his original infirmities. It may be doubted, more- over, whether Italy or the whole world then pos- sessed a profounder theologian, a more zealous student, or a more masterly expounder of the Word of God. Every verse of Holy Writ was on his tongue, and it is said that he committed the Bible to memory. An essentially great and mighty man was this Savonarola. In many re- spects we must rank him above Loyola, Huss, or Knox. He possessed the spirit of an Elijah or a Jeremiah. The power of the Medici began to decline with the death of the Magnificent, and that illus- trious family of despots came to recognize Sa- vonarola as the most potent and irresistible agent in the subversion of their influence and author- ity. It was a sad and humiliating transition, to 66 Providential Epochs. the minds of the proud Florentines, from the Magnificent Lorenzo to his son, the pusillani- mous Piero. And the people deplored the rise of this profligate prince the more because they were compelled to see their prophet and the fearless champion of their liberties leave Florence at the command of this ignominious despot. Innocent VIII died the same year with Lo- renzo, and he was succeeded by the most de- testable, profligate, inhuman wretch that ever wore the oft-polluted triple-crown — Alexander VI, a name which it is almost obscenity to men- tion; as black a name as stains the annals of history. This is the third pope with whom Sa- vonarola has had to deal. And three more bestial, villainous, abhorrent creatures could not be found aside from Nero, Caligula, and Tiberius, of Imperial Rome. What Roscoe said of Alex- ander VI might justly be observed of every pope in Savonarola's time : he was " the scourge of Christendom and the opprobrium of the human race." '• With great power and fearlessness Savon- arola preached against spiritual wickedness in high places, against the worship of the Vir- gin Mary, the efficacy of charms and relics,,' and the substitution of Aristotle, Plato, and Tully, The Renaissance. 67 for the pure and simple gospel of the Son of God. The preacher, however, was not always pouring forth words of wrath and condemnation. Often his stern soul relaxed into pathos, and again soared aloft on the eagle wings of ecstasy. The voice of thunder would become as soft as a lute- note or the mellow tone of a golden bell, while the severe face would at times grow radiant with the majesty and glory of his exalted imagina- tion ; then would he hold multitudes entranced with strains of almost celestial eloquence. No sermon of Savonarola created more ex- citement and consternation among all classes than that which he preached in the cathedral of Florence, January 13, 1494, on "The Reform of the Church." In it he said: "When Pope In- nocent VIII died, I was laughed at for saying that the Church must be reformed. At that time I beheld a vision — a black cross suspended over Babylonian Rome. On that cross was in- scribed, 'The wrath of the Lord.' Swords, dag- gers, lances, arms of all sorts, gleamed around it, mingled with hail, with devouring lightning, and thunderbolts, all enveloped in the lurid ob- scurity of a dark and horrible tempest. I saw also another cross ; it was of gold, and reached from earth to heaven. It hovered about Jerusa- 68 Providential Epochs. lem, and on it was inscribed, ' The mercy of God.' A serene, limpid, and pure atmosphere surrounded it. Hence I gather that a reform of the Church is at hand. O Florence, this super- natural light has not been vouchsafed me for any merit of my own, but for your sake ; so that, when the scourge descends, it may not be in your power to plead ignorance ! O Italy ! O Prince of Italy! and you, prelates of the Church, the wrath of God impends over you, and repent- ance is the sole remedy ! Repent, then, while the sword still remains undrawn ; repent before it leaps from its scabbard and becomes dyed in blood." The impression of this sermon had not been effaced before the news came that the French were pouring over the Alps, and that Charles VIII was sweeping down upon Florence and Italy for the purpose of conquest. The sword had leaped from its scabbard ; the daggers were falling ; alarm and consternation had seized the people. All Florence surged toward the ca- thedral. With paled lips they spoke but the one name — "Savonarola." Standing up in his pul- pit before the agitated mass, the prophet cried : "And behold I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth !" His voice reverberated through the temple, and smote the ears of Florence with The Renaissance. 6g terror. The reporters could not take down the mighty words of the preacher, so overcome were they by his tempestuous declamation. -^People affirmed — and among them were such scholars and philosophers as Pico and Politian — that cold chills struck them ; the very hairs of their head stood on end ; they wept and trembled as, like a mountain torrent bursting every barrier, the elo- quence of the preacher swept everything before him. In the estimation of the people, Savon- arola never before seemed so great. He had predicted the evils that came upon them ; he knew their cause ; he could name the remedy. He was their father, their prophet, their deliv- erer. The weak and cowardly Piero having for- saken the people in their hour of danger, all eyes were now fixed upon Savonarola. The wise men of the Senate saw that he was the leader for the emergency. Suddenly the Frate found himself the chosen head of the Republic. The destiny of Florence was in his keeping. Charles Vni treated with the Florentines and passed on, overawed by the prophet, who gave the con- queror advice which he was wise or superstitious enough to heed// The reformer was looked to for the formation of a new government. Here was the beginning of his greatest troubles, and 70 Providential Epochs. certainly of his greatest mistakes. Here, if any- where, he was carried by his enthusiasm, and by a strange combination of circumstances, to over- step the boundaries of his highest and noblest mission; and here began the series of acts by which his final execution has by some been jus- tified. That Savonarola possessed the genius of a great statesmanship, may not be questioned ; and that he suggested many useful and success- ful laws and institutions, is true. That his po- litical eminence belongs to his just fame ; that he took a conspicuous part in settling political measures that are worthy to be ranked among the greatest reforms ever achieved by a states- man ; and that, in the language of Villari, " he is justly entitled to be reckoned among the great founders of the Republic," no one that has stud- ied his political career will dispute. But at the same time there can be no doubt that, as a whole, his scheme of government was Utopian — better fitted for the millennium than for the fifteenth century. Savonarola's government was neither a pure democracy nor a republic. It was a theocracy, or rather a Christocracy ; for from the pulpit the Frate cried: "Florence, Jesus Christ, who is King of the universe, hath willed to become thy King in particular. Wilt thou The Renaissance. 71 have liiin for thy King?" And the people, in a frenzy of excitement, answered with a mighty shout of assent. This has the appearance of out- and-out fanaticism. We have no disposition to give it a milder name. After this it is easily seen how the preacher was the political ruler of Florence. He was the prophet of God to a peo- ple easily carried away by any fanatical notions of liberty or religion. He was in an anomalous position. His office was no more than a vice- gerency. But in this position and self-assumed office Savonarola held the reins of power, at least for a short time, with a firm grip. His preaching had transformed the social manners and religious life of Florence. The churches were filled with large and devout congregations ; the people turned to their long-neglected Bibles ; alms-giving became universal. It was no un- common occurrence, in those strange, abnormal days, for men to restore ill-gotten gains ; for women to throw their jewels into the contribu- tion for the poor ; and for some of the noblest, most promising young men to turn their backs upon the world and enter the monastic life, which Savonarola had invested with a peculiar charm and fascination. Modern history can not duplicate, in phenomenal character, the short 72 Providential Epochs. epoch of Savonarola's political supremacy in Florence. Short-sighted men, carried away with enthusiasm, taking a superficial and narrow view of affairs, vainly imagined that the ideal govern- ment had been established, and that the millen- nium was near at hand. But those capricious and combustible Florentines were not the ele- ments out of which the millennial society or the ideal government could be constituted. Divis- ions soon occurred. The city was divided into numerous factions. Savonarola finally found his measures questioned, his wisdom challenged, his authority denied, and himself denounced. There were not wanting men who regarded him as a hypocrite and a demagogue. He was accused of using his ecclesiastical position and his religious influence to grasp political power and to satisfy a daring and unbridled ambition. That liberty and equality had been secured to the Florentines, and that the Government was never more scientifically democratic is true, but there were noble and aristocratic families in that old Florence who did not believe in liberty for the other man. They did not relish democracy nor Christianity. They organized themselves into a political party to overthrow Savonarola. There was also an opposite party formed, not The Renaissance. 73 unlike the Communists of to-day ; its adherents looked upon Savonarola's democracy as too con- servative and temperate. Thus the preacher- politician found himself between two fires. But turning toward Rome he discovered a third enemy directing his revenge against him. The prophet was soon completely surrounded by un- compromising foes. L