The Cambridge Modern History. R. Nisbet Bain
climates, who had at once too much blood and too much cleverness to bear a king,—unsuited above all to high-spirited and subtle Florentines, for whom the Venetian popular government was the natural type. He suggested that the citizens should gather under their sixteen companies (gunfaloni), that each company should draft a scheme, that of these the sixteen gonfaloniers should select four, and from them the Slgnoria should choose the best: this, he assured his congregation, would be after the Venetian model.
In official circles there was resistance, but popular opinion was overwhelming. The aristocrats had overthrown the Medici, but the people claimed the spoils. After long debate the several magistracies, the Sixteen gonfaloniers, the Twelve bttonitomini, the Twenty, the Eight, and the Ten of War each presented constitutions, and of these that of the Ten, to which Soderini belonged, was chosen. The old Councils of People and Commune were replaced by a Grand Council, which became the sovereign authority of the State. Membership was confined to those who had at any time been drawn for the three chief offices, the Signoria, the Twelve, and the Sixteen, or whose ancestors within three generations had been so drawn: the age limit was twenty-nine, and no one could be a councillor who had not paid his taxes. A small number of citizens, otherwise qualified, above the age of twenty-four was admitted, and in each year twenty-eight additional members, unqualified by office, might be elected; few of these, however, obtained the requisite majority of two-thirds of the votes. The chief function of the Council was electoral. Electors drawn by lot nominated candidates for the more important offices, and of those who secured an absolute majority of votes he who polled the highest number was elected. For the minor offices members of the Council were drawn by lot. The Council chose a Senate of eighty members, who sat for six months but were re-eligible; their duty was to advise the Signoria and to appoint ambassadors and commissioners with the army. The executive remained unchanged; at the head was the Signor’w, the Gonfalonier of Justice and the eight Priors, holding office for two months. Its consultations were aided by the College, the Twelve r and the Sixteen; the Ten of War and the Eight of EaTia continued to exist. Every legislative proposal, every money-bill, every question of peace and war, was initiated in the Signoria, passed through the College to the Senate and received completion in the Council. This was expected to number about 3000 members, and, until a large hall in the Palace could be built, it was divided into three sections which sat in turn.
This was a bold constitutional experiment, the boldest that had yet been tried at Florence. It was not exactly the transplantation of an exotic constitution which had matured under different conditions of soil and climate, but rather an attempt to hybridise the Florentine executive with the Venetian elective system. To all Italian statesmen it seemed clear that Venice possessed the ideal constitution, but the essence of this perfection was not so obvious. The academic explanation was that it was mixed, combining the merits of monarchy, aristocracy and democracy. Consequently Venice could serve as a model to artists of very different schools. Lorenzo de1 Medici, convinced of the weakness of the Florentine system for diplomacy and war, had, in creating the Seventy and the Committee of Eight, looked to the Senate and the Ten, which were essentially the motive powers of the Venetian constitution. His last political act, the creation of a baTia of Seventeen, was probably another adaptation of the Venetian Ten, applied to the purposes most essential to Medicean power, elections and finance; it is at least a curious coincidence that the so-called Ten consisted really of seventeen members. His intention is believed to have been that he should be elected life-Gonfalonier, or Doge; this would have legalised his irregular position, and given him permanent influence in every department. Lorenzo, however, while making a selection from both the aristocratic and monarchical elements of his model, left out of sight its broad popular basis. At Venice, the Grand Council was eminently the elective body, and the electors could tolerate the supremacy of their representatives. Lorenzo had entrusted elective functions above all to oligarchical councils and committees.
The cry of the Florentines now was, People and Liberty. Overlooking therefore the administrative excellence of Venice, they gave exclusive attention to the Grand Council, which had been, indeed, rather the declining partner in the Venetian Constitution. They believed, not unnaturally, that by directly interesting a large number of citizens in the constitution they would shake off once for all the extra-legal influences, which had for so long dominated the elections and through them the administration; thus would cease the curious dualism between the real and the apparent government, the cause of some oppression and much heart-burning. There was, however, this great difference, that at Florence every legislative question and every important question of policy ultimately came before the Council, whereas at Venice almost all received their decision in the Senate. Thus while at Venice, if the Ten be momentarily set aside, the Senate was the determining body, at Florence it exercised little weight in the fortunes of the coming years, and was, indeed, overshadowed by the influence of the Pratica, an excrescence on the constitution, of which more anon. It is clear from this alone that in diplomacy and war, when speed, secrecy, and trained experience were required, Florence would be at a disadvantage. At Venice, again, the executive was more highly developed, there was greater differentiation. Each, for instance, of the Savi da terra firma had his own department, while the functions of the board differed from those of the Savi da mar. At Florence the Signoria with its consultative associates, the Twelve and the Sixteen, had undergone no process of evolution. Even between the Signoria and the two chief executive committees, the Ten and the Eight, there was no clear demarcation; conflicts of authority might and did arise. Moreover, Florence had no trained pilot; very ordinary seamen took their place on the bridge almost in turn. The Venetian Doge is traditionally called a figure-head, but this metaphor gives a false impression of his relation to the ship of State. He was, it is true, hemmed in by every precaution against absolutism, but he was usually elected as a citizen of high position and long experience. Chosen for life, he sat among officials most of whom were elected for short terms; he was in the closest touch with every branch of the administration; nor did his fortunes depend on the popularity of his opinions. His influence might not be obvious but it was all-pervading; every great movement in Venetian policy will be found to associate itself with the personality of a Doge. How different was the position of a Florentine Gonfalonier of Justice elected for two months, and welcomed by the citizens in proportion to his insignificance! Finally, at Florence there was no attempt as yet to emulate the Venetian judicial system with its three courts of forty citizens, and its admirable supervision of local justice by itinerary commissions from the capital. It was this organisation, partly representative and popular, partly expert, which made Venetian justice acceptable to the mainland cities and respected at home. Florence was left with her old faulty system, at once weak, cruel and partial, inspiring neither affection nor respect. The controlling dynastic power was now withdrawn which had at least striven to give some efficiency and regularity to justice. This was certain to become the sport of the political passions of the moment.
In spite of these defects the new constitution was popular, for it gave a constant interest in government to a larger number than had previously been the case. In this sense it may be termed democratic; it is frequently called the Florentine democracy even by those who stigmatise its Venetian model as a narrow oligarchy. This is so far correct, that the more democratic features of the model had been adopted, while the Florentine executive retained the democratic principle of rapid rotation, of ruling and being ruled in turn. The term nobility as applied to the ruling class at Venice created some little difficulty; it was explained that this was a misnomer,—that it implied only an official distinction, involving no personal rights over other men. Soderini indeed declared that as many possessed citizenship at Venice as were fit to enjoy it at Florence. The origin of the two systems was more alike than the Florentines probably knew. At the date of the “Closing of the Grand Council” at Venice (1296) a reform of the constitution had become imperative; and then, as at Florence in 1494, the alternative, lay between an oligarchy and a more popular form, between a group of families and a considerable section of the citizens. In both cases it was decided in favour of the latter; in both, the new citizenship had an official basis, for at Venice membership of the old Council during several generations corresponded to the Florentine qualification of past office in the three greater magistracies. In both, all classes which had not previously enjoyed power were, subject to insignificant exceptions, permanently excluded. There was however this important difference, that in Florence the noble houses had, since the Ordinances of Justice, been disfranchised. The Medici had done much to break down this antiquated distinction,