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Digitized by the Internet Archive 
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THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
THE 
 
 MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO 
 
 BY 
 
 (j. S. BODKIN 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE LIFE OF VICTOR EMANUEL &c. 
 
 FLORENCE, 
 
 PRINTED BY G. BARBERA. 
 
 1887. 
 
. - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO . 1 
 
 Ever their phantoms rise before us, 
 
 Our loftier brothers, but one in blood; 
 
 At bed and at table they lord it o’er us, 
 With looks of beauty and words of good. 
 
 Emerson. 
 
 The traveller in Italy, when wandering through 
 the vacant halls and echoing cloisters of a sup¬ 
 pressed convent, cannot help feeling deeply impressed 
 with the idea of how much we owe to the monks of 
 the Middle Ages. Notwithstanding the vicissitudes 
 of fortune which have, in many cases, robbed them 
 of their finest paintings and rarest hooks, enough 
 still remain to show their former greatness. There 
 are intact the beautiful frescoes which no rapacious 
 invader could tear off the walls; there are the re¬ 
 mains of splendid libraries which the brothers ma¬ 
 naged to preserve through every trial and danger. 
 And as the stranger pictures to himself the long, 
 weary days and years passed in copying those books 
 in the fine, minute hand peculiar to the frati , and in 
 executing the exquisite miniature paintings that adorn 
 them, he must experience a sentiment of admiration 
 for those patient labourers whose zeal and talent have 
 left such rich legacies to posterity. 
 
 1 This sketch of San Marco, which does not profess to be 
 anything but a primer for those who have not time to study the 
 subject, is for the most part a reprint of a series of papers which 
 appeared years ago in a Magazine. 
 
 1 
 
6 
 
 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 Of all religious Orders, the Dominicans were most 
 devoted to study, and they did as much if not more 
 to encourage art and literature in Tuscany than all 
 the Medici. The story of the Monastery of San Marco 
 presents, perhaps, the brightest page in their histo¬ 
 ry, and, though not altogether unsullied by some dis¬ 
 honouring blots, it is a record of which the Order 
 may well feel proud. They belonged to no ordinary 
 type of common-place monks — the noble band who 
 have written their names indelibly on those venerable 
 walls, and inseparably interwoven the history of their 
 country with the history of their convent." 
 
 The hopeless corruption of society and the lawless 
 wickedness of those days drove them, like many, to 
 assume the sacerdotal dress; but they did not fly 
 to the desert to weep and pray for the sins of the 
 world. They chose rather to stand in the midst of 
 it, and do battle for the Right. If, in the heat of 
 that fierce contest, they were sometimes borne down 
 by the ruthless enemy, they rose to their feet again 
 — their white garments a little soiled, perhaps, with 
 the dust of the affray, but in the main still faithful to 
 the cause of truth and justice. On the whole, theirs 
 was a braver and manlier life than that of their 
 brethren who dwelt in the desert, who were too apt 
 to abandon themselves to a sort of spiritual egotism, 
 thinking only of saving their own souls alive, and 
 speaking of heaven as though it were their peculiar 
 inheritance. The courage and fortitude of those who 
 generously imperilled their own souls for the benefit 
 of mankind commend themselves to our admiration. 
 
 1290. About the year 1290 a small body of monks be¬ 
 longing to the Order of St. Silvestre took possession 
 of a poor little building in the Piazza San Marco, 
 and in the space of nine years they had completed 
 the erection of a respectable church adjoining their 
 convent. The Silvestrini inhabited this dwelling for 
 
THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 7 
 
 above a century — living in the odour of sanctity, 
 much beloved and respected by the surrounding po¬ 
 pulation, to whose wants they ministered. Wealth 
 and luxury, however, crept in, and as a natural con¬ 
 sequence the brethren began to deteriorate rapidly. 
 Finally, their misdemeanors became so public, that 
 complaints were sent in to high quarters, and, after 
 an investigation, they were dispossessed by order of 
 the Archbishop, and their convent made over to 
 another more worthy fraternity. The Silvestrini clung 
 with a desperate tenacity to their worldly possessions, 
 and entered a lawsuit against the new comers, with 
 no other result, however, than branding still more 
 darkly their own reputation. 
 
 The successors of this unworthy fraternity be¬ 
 longed to that Order which had been founded two 
 centuries before by St. Domenico at Bologna, from 
 whence the saint had sent twelve of his followers to 
 evangelise the semi-pagan city of Florence. 1 Here the 
 Frati Predicatori (preaching friars) took root, and 
 increased in numbers and influence; but they always 
 kept up their connection with Lombardy, being still 
 under the control of the Vicar-General of that State. 
 Cosmo de Medici, whose partiality for this learned 
 Order showed itself in munificent gifts, made over 
 the Monastery of San Marco to a small fraternity of 
 Dominicans; and in 1430, the lawsuit ended, they, 1430 . 
 entered into possession of the premises. The Silve¬ 
 strini had allowed the edifice to fall into such a state 
 of dilapidation that it had to be pulled down and re¬ 
 built, the monks meanwhile sleeping in sheds in the 
 court. Means were not wanting to make the new 
 establishment all that could be desired, and soon a 
 splendid pile arose worthy of its illustrious founder. 
 
 1 " St. Francis taught Christian men how they were to behave, 
 and St. Dominick taught Christian men what they should think. ” 
 
 Rusiun. 
 
8 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 The building alone cost Cosmo 36,000 gold florins. 
 It was capable of accommodating 300 inmates, had 
 spacious refectories, chapter-rooms, and a library of 
 lofty proportions — 80 braccia long and 36 wide, sup¬ 
 ported by two rows of Doric columns. A large do¬ 
 nation of books from Cosmo formed the nucleus of 
 that splendid library which was the glory of San Marco 
 for so many ages. It was soon increased by the va,- 
 luable collection of a private citizen, Niccolo Niccoli, 
 a biblio-maniac, who ruined himself by this passion. 
 The brothers were proud of the fact that San Marco 
 was the first library in Florence opened gratis to the 
 public. 
 
 The church, built in the Italian-Gothic style, was 
 restored and beautified at a cost of 36,000 gold flo¬ 
 rins. Relics of saints were imported from all parts 
 in tabernacles of precious metals wrought with ar¬ 
 tistic designs, among which was a finger-bone of 
 St. Mark; ribs, teeth, and even craniums of other 
 distinguished individuals were not wanting. Gifts 
 poured in from the wealthy in the shape of works 
 of art, and among these was the beautiful gold cross 
 of Giotto, coupled with the condition that the frati 
 should keep a light perpetually burning before it. The 
 church was reconsecrated in 1441 by Pope Eugene IY, 
 and, under the patronage of this learned Pontiff and 
 that of the Medici, the Monastery prospered exceed¬ 
 ingly. The young community counted among its mem¬ 
 bers scions of some of the noblest houses in Italy — 
 the cloister being in those days a convenient way of 
 disposing of younger sons, particularly quiet, stu¬ 
 dious ones, who had no taste for robbing and killing 
 their neighbours. 
 

Chapter I. 
 
 ST. ANTONINO. 
 
 In sober state 
 
 Through the sequester’d vale of cloister’d life 
 The venerable patriarch guileless held 
 The tenor of his way. 
 
 Porte us. 
 
 The fame which San Marco so rapidly acquired 
 was owing chiefly to the presence of two illustrious 
 inmates. Both were distinguished by extraordinary 
 piety and a winning simplicity and modesty of cha¬ 
 racter. It is true their mental gifts were unequal. 
 The lofty genius of the one has interwoven his name 
 inseparably with the history of Art; while the other, 
 though an accomplished scholar for his day, can only 
 be remembered for his great goodness. But there is 
 a pre-eminence of virtue as well as talent; and those 
 whose souls are cast in such a heavenly mould, who 
 have sacrificed so much for their fellow-man as St. An- 
 tonino , are as rare as geniuses such as Fra Angelico. 
 Therefore we venture to place their names side by 
 side, claiming equal honour for both. We will speak 
 of the Archbishop first, as he was the spiritual founder 
 of the Monastery. 
 
 Antonino Pierozzi, the son of a Florentine notary, 
 was born 1389. His childhood was most exemplary. 
 At the age of fifteen he presented himself to the Su¬ 
 perior of the Convent of Fiesole, near Florence, and 
 begged to be received into the Order of Frati Fre- 
 
 1389. 
 
10 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 dicatori. The sweet, ingenuous expression of the hoy’s 
 face, and the gentle, diffident manner with which he 
 preferred his request, won the heart of the Abbot. 
 He was sent to Cortona for his probation, and there 
 he had as companion in his studies a youth called 
 Fra Giovanni, sometimes nicknamed by his fellow- 
 students II Beato , because of the deeply religious 
 tone of his mind and the ardour with which he gave 
 himself to the study of Christian art. Sympathy of 
 taste soon gave birth to a warm friendship between 
 those two kindred souls — and we may add a third, 
 Fra Benedetto, brother of Fra" Angelico, a gifted mi¬ 
 niature-painter, also distinguished for his rare pen¬ 
 manship. In company with these two brothers, com¬ 
 monly called " the Brothers of Mugello,” Antonino 
 returned to Fiesole; but, during a terrible schism in 
 the Church, when two rival Popes made war on each 
 other, the Fiesole community was driven into exile. 
 Antonino spent some time in Borne and Naples, preach¬ 
 ing and instituting reforms in monastic life. On 
 his return to Cortona he was elected prior, and soon 
 after passed in the same capacity to his first convent, 
 which had been restored to the Dominicans. He was 
 still comparatively young, though already famous, 
 when he led the Fiesole monks to their new home in 
 the Piazza San Marco, where Cosmo de Medici, then 
 in the zenith of his power, determined to plant them. 
 
 Cosmo had been called back from a year’s exile 
 by the almost unanimous voice of the people. He 
 had been received with the warmest demonstrations, 
 and saluted " Father of his country.” But he soon 
 made the Florentines repent of their gushing con¬ 
 fidence. He entered the city escorted by a large body 
 of troops, and fortified himself in the city palace. He 
 administered arbitrary laws, executed heads of illu¬ 
 strious houses, and drove others into exile, confisca¬ 
 ting their property to enrich his creatures. The heads 
 
CHAPTER I. — ST. ANTONINO. 
 
 11 
 
 of the houses being thus cut off, the miserable rela¬ 
 tions and dependents were reduced to beggary, and 
 became desperate, many of them taking to a criminal 
 mode of life, and some committing suicide. The 
 daughters of those families, finding themselves de¬ 
 prived of their natural guardians, and without the ne¬ 
 cessary dowry which Italians of all ages are taught 
 to expect with the bride, went to ruin. 
 
 Cosmo de Medici, the author of all this evil, lived 
 on his ill-gotten property like a hereditary prince of 
 the first water. He entertained with splendid hospi¬ 
 tality, was a liberal patron of art and literature, 
 erected handsome edifices, endowed monasteries, was 
 a regular attendant at divine service — being one of 
 those princes who think to atone for their crimes 
 towards society by their devotion to the Church. 
 Cosmo, however, seems to have had a genuine appre¬ 
 ciation of learning and moral worth, as was proved 
 by his sincere friendship for the prior of San Marco. 
 Fra Angelico and his brother were also very dear to 
 him; and so sympathetic did he find the society of 
 those three gifted monks, that he had two small 
 apartments in the convent fitted up for his reception 
 when he wished to escape from the worry of State 
 affairs and refresh his soul in society where art and 
 learning were divorced from ambition. But why did 
 those holy men accept his gifts and tolerate his so¬ 
 ciety? is the natural question which occurs to the 
 reader’s mind. Why did they not shut their door in 
 the face of this pious, accomplished highwayman, 
 whose religion and conduct were so much at variance ? 
 The reasons are to be found — first, in the spirit of 
 the age; and, secondly, in the character of the Ab¬ 
 bot. In those times, freebooting in the northern 
 countries, if conducted on a sufficiently large scale, 
 was not considered unworthy of a Christian knight; 
 and in the Italian republics seizing the reins of go- 
 
12 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 vernment by some treacherous stroke and executing 
 political enemies was regarded as the working of a 
 legitimate ambition, and even sometimes wore the 
 garb of patriotism — fidelity to party being all that 
 was in honour expected of those chiefs. So that 
 Cosmo was not, in truth, such a hypocrite as he 
 would seem, if judged by our modern standard of 
 right. 
 
 And then Antonino was not one of those warrior 
 saints, like Hildebrand and Savonarola, who loved to 
 strike their spiritual weapons on the armour of illu¬ 
 strious sinners. His life was not less stainless and 
 self-sacrificing than theirs, and he was regarded with 
 as much reverence as mortal man could inspire in his 
 fellow-man. But it was not in his sweet, angelic na¬ 
 ture to treat any sinner harshly, were he high or low. 
 His boundless charity extended to all God’s creatures; 
 and often when he carried help and comfort to the 
 homes of vice, he wept bitterly over the miseries 
 which sin had entailed on the unhappy inmates. He 
 spoke the truth to Cosmo de Medici with the freedom 
 of a friend and the authority of a pastor, and Cosmo 
 listened with respect — nay, reverence; but it does 
 not seem that he made any atonement for the inju¬ 
 stices he had committed. While he was revelling in 
 luxury, feasting and corrupting the citizens with his 
 lavish pomp, the families of those whom he had de¬ 
 spoiled were reduced to the most abject straits. An¬ 
 tonino, whose office of confessor led him to the know¬ 
 ledge of everything, felt his tender heart wrung by 
 the sufferings of the people. He did not feel that 
 strong sense of injustice, that burning impatience of 
 wrong, which was a consuming fire in Savonarola. 
 He did not shut his convent-door in the face of the 
 Medici; he tried to convince him of his error, and 
 when he failed he meekly set about remedying the 
 evil as best he could. 
 
CHAPTER I. — ST.ANTONINO. 13 
 
 The prior of San Marco summoned to a conference 
 twelve lay citizens whose worth he knew, and laid 
 bare to them the harrowing pictures he had wit¬ 
 nessed, urging upon them the Christian duty of aiding 
 those unhappy beings. They willingly offered their 
 services to carry out his plan, which was this: To 
 organise a society to help the poor — particularly the 
 poveri vergognosi (shame-faced poor), who had seen 
 better days. They were called providers, and to each 
 district two providers were appointed. These called 
 in aiders to their assistance. All worked gratis. Mo¬ 
 ney was collected from the faithful of all classes, and 
 it was strictly forbidden by the Superior to put 
 to interest or traffic the offerings of charity. This 
 benevolent society prospered exceedingly, and the 
 good, moral and physical, effected by its operations 
 was incalculable. The providers came to be called 
 by the grateful people, Buoni uomini di San Martino , 
 by which name they have ever since been known. 
 " Good men ” they, indeed, proved themselves. Where¬ 
 ver the monks of San Marco went — where sorrow 
 and sin and want and sickness abode — there also 
 were their lay-helpers, the Good Men of St. Martin’s, 
 aiding and consoling the miserable. For- destitute 
 youths they provided employment, and to fatherless 
 girls they gave a small dowry to enable them to marry 
 or enter a convent. 
 
 Padre Antonino took under his fostering care, also, 
 the Hospital of the Innocents — foundling-house—■ just 
 then established. Besides all he did in Florence, he 
 travelled much, reforming the convents of his Order, 
 and establishing schools in connection with the reli¬ 
 gious houses of both sexes. But he was always re¬ 
 joiced to return to his native city, where he was lite¬ 
 rally adored by the people as an angel of light, who 
 hallowed the ground on which he trod. And so meekly 
 did the simple-minded saint hear his popularity, that 
 
14 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARGO. 
 
 1440. 
 
 even the proud, riotous, luxurious nobles — against 
 whose life his was a silent, but strong protest —bore 
 him no grudge. In the midst of his multifarious 
 duties, Antonino never neglected study, to which he 
 devoted the hours that others gave to repose, and he 
 wrote several useful books on education. 
 
 In the year 1446, the Archbishop of Florence died, 
 and Pope Eugene, then sojourning in that city, ap¬ 
 pointed the Prior of San Marco to the vacant see, 
 to the indescribable joy of the citizens, who rarely 
 had the happiness of seeing a favourite pastor elevated 
 to that honour on the ground of personal merit. The 
 news reached Antonino at Siena, and struck him 
 dumb with amaze and consternation. He had more 
 than enough of duties already, and how was he to 
 accept such a weighty charge? Dreading to meet 
 the entreaties of his friends and the commands of 
 the Pontiff, he betook himself to flight, hoping he 
 would soon be forgotten and another man appointed 
 instead. But his nephew and a party of friends, sent 
 in pursuit by the Pope and the chief magistrate, 
 caught him as he was embarking for the Island of 
 Sardinia, and conducted him a State prisoner to the 
 capital. With tears he protested to the citizens that 
 he never would willingly assume the dignity offered 
 him, and he wrote a piteous letter to the Pope beg¬ 
 ging to be let off. But Eugene was all the more 
 convinced of his fitness, and laid his apostolic com¬ 
 mands on him to accept office. Antonino meekly 
 bowed to the decree, and retired to the convent of 
 Fiesole to prepare for the great change in his life. 
 On the appointed day, he was led, like a sheep to 
 the slaughter, to be consecrated. The procession that 
 marched from the city-gate to the cathedral was a 
 splendid sight, notwithstanding that the new Arch¬ 
 bishop presented the novel spectacle of walking bare¬ 
 footed — a proceeding which in another man might 
 
CHAPTER I. — ST. ANTONINO. 
 
 15 
 
 have been open to the charge of affectation, but in 
 Antonino, no one doubted, was pure humility. An 
 immense concourse of clergy and religious orders 
 went first; then came Antonino, supported on either 
 side by a bishop, and preceded by a cardinal; the 
 chief magistrate and the Magnificent Eight in state 
 robes headed the civil procession, and were followed 
 by the citizens of all ranks. 
 
 Antonino’s establishment in the episcopal palace, 
 where the late prelate had dwelt in regal splendour, 
 was modest in the extreme. He banished every lu¬ 
 xury and elegance, and retained but the few atten¬ 
 dants absolutely necessary for the dignity of his office. 
 
 The vast gardens attached to the palace were planted 
 in vegetables for the poor, and his residence became 
 an almshouse, where the needy were daily fed. He 
 instituted many reforms among the clergy of his dio¬ 
 cese; for, though unwilling to assume authority, he 
 knew how to use it when in his hands. Soon after 
 his elevation, he translated his work on Moral Phi¬ 
 losophy, originally written in Latin, into the vulgar 
 tongue. But his studies were broken in upon by the 
 terrible pestilence of 1448-9. All the wealthy citizens 1418-9. 
 not plague-stricken fled to their villas in the country, 
 but the Archbishop remained true to his post, and, 
 with his ever-faithful monks of San Marco and good 
 men of San Martino, went about administering to the 
 wants of the sick and dying. In the famine that fol¬ 
 lowed three years after, Antonino was still the ruling 
 spirit in every beneficent work. The magistrates en¬ 
 trusted to his care the distribution of the public 
 money for the relief of the sufferers, and, when he 
 had added his own and all his passionate appeals 
 could win from the citizens, finding it still inade¬ 
 quate, he wrote to the Pope begging for more. 
 
 Antonino had such a reputation for wisdom that 
 he was often summoned to councils, and so came to 
 
16 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 be called Antonino dei Consigli. When he was in his 
 seventieth year, the Pope called him to a conference, 
 which had for its object the defence of Europe against 
 tbe inroads of the Turks, then threatening the destruc¬ 
 tion of Christendom. The excitement of preaching 
 the crusade brought on fever on his return to Flo¬ 
 rence, which slowly sapped his life. After he had 
 taken the last Sacrament, he desired his servants to 
 give all the money that was in the house To the poor 
 that day. He then turned away his face, and re¬ 
 mained in prayer till the last few minutes of his life. 
 
 1459. In the dawn of a May morning, 1459, this heaven- 
 born spirit returned to its native element. 
 
 The Pope was moved to tears when he heard of 
 the Archbishop’s death, and ordered a magnificent 
 funeral. Six bishops carried the coffin, followed by 
 the mourning city. The pavement of the church was 
 wet with the tea.rs of the orphaned poor, as they 
 knelt to kiss the coffin of their benefactor and spi¬ 
 ritual father. He was interred in the church of his 
 beloved convent of San Marco. We cannot say he 
 rested in peace, as he has been many times disinterred 
 by the superstitious Florentines, who thought the 
 exposing the body of their saint on the altar would 
 dissipate public calamities. If St. Antonino had the 
 same objection to having his bones moved as our 
 Shakespeare, it is a pity he did not leave some such 
 injunction as that on the tomb of the poet. ft Cursed 
 be he who moves my bones! ” might have stayed the 
 sacrilegious hands from tearing him out of his grave 
 every time there was a war, pestilence, or famine. 
 
 That day, however, is passed for ever, and St. An- 
 tonino’s long sleep will never again be disturbed by 
 the too-ardent faith of his fellow-citizens. 
 
 Some miracles are, of course, recorded in the bio¬ 
 graphies of the good Archbishop; but they are not so 
 numerous nor important as those of other saints of 
 


CHAPTER I. — ST. ANTONJNO. 
 
 17 
 
 a more imaginative and less practical nature. Indeed, 
 his virtues as a man are always more prominent than 
 the saintly attributes by which he gained canonisation. 
 
 With such a founder, we cannot wonder that 
 San Marco had soon a high reputation as an educa¬ 
 tional establishment, and many young nobles were 
 committed to the care of the brothers. In the life 
 of the Archbishop we come upon a touching little 
 episode, which will serve to show the sort of training 
 they got, and the spirit which then inspired the Do¬ 
 minicans. Antonio Neyrot was an orphan youth, to 
 whom the Abbot had been as a father. He. had as¬ 
 sumed the novice’s dress in preparation for the vows 
 of the Order; but a sudden passion for travelling 
 seized him. He desired to see the world first before 
 finally settling down to a conventual life. He went 
 to pay his respects to the Archbishop before starting, 
 and he tried to dissuade him from his purpose, as 
 the seas were then swarming with Moorish and Turk¬ 
 ish pirates. But the young man was resolved, and 
 departed with the blessing of his adopted father. What 
 the Archbishop foreboded took place. He was taken 
 by pirates, and sold in Tunis. His noble appearance 
 and accomplishments induced the ruler of the land 
 to offer him liberty and a distinguished office, if' he 
 abjured Christanity and became a Mahometan. After 
 some months’ suffering in chains, his faith gave way, 
 and he was rewarded by rank and wealth and the 
 hand of the daughter of a pasha. One day at the 
 landing-place of the pier he met a newly-arrived Flo¬ 
 rentine, who related to him the saintly death of the 
 Archbishop and his last words to his flock. Antonio 
 Neyrot was so struck with remorse by the memories 
 thus recalled, that he resolved to make what atone¬ 
 ment he could for his apostacy. He went home and 
 despoiled himself of his rich robes, bade farewell to 
 his lady, and, dressed in the white tunic of a Do- 
 
18 
 
 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 minican, went forth to meet the Sovereign and his 
 train entering the city, where he publicly declared 
 himself a Christian. The Bey ordered him to be im¬ 
 prisoned for a week to think over it; but, finding 
 him obstinate at the end of that time, he was stoned 
 to death in the market-place, kneeling, like Stephen, 
 with eyes turned heavenward, and praying for pardon 
 for his apostacy. 
 
Chapter II. 
 
 FRA ANGELICO. 
 
 His spirit was the home 
 Of aspirations high, 
 
 A temple whose tall dome 
 Was hidden in the sky. 
 
 It was probably in the year 1284 or ’85 that the 
 great painter Cimabue took that famous ride in which 
 he found the bare-footed little shepherd sketching his 
 sheep upon a stone, and forthwith asked his father 
 to hand him over to him for instruction. 
 
 " Full many a flower is born to blush unseen; ” and 
 it is likely that among all the rich gentlemen that 
 rode bye only Cimabue had the eye to discern in that 
 rude sketch the germ of genius, which but for his 
 fostering care might have withered in the bud. And 
 it is to Cimabue; in the first instance, the world owes 
 all that his matchless pupil did for Art. Giotto was 
 the founder of Italian Art, as his friend Dante was 
 the founder of the Italian language; and he divided 
 with him the honours of the century to which he 
 belonged. His transcendent powers silenced all de¬ 
 tracting voices. 1 
 
 1 " Whatever other men dreamed of, he did. He could work 
 in mosaic, he could work in marble, he could paint and he could 
 build; and all thoroughly; a man of supreme faculty, supreme 
 common sense. ” — Ruskin. 
 
 “ Giotto filled Italy with work that taught succeeding centuries 
 of painters. What Giotto gave to Art was before all things vita¬ 
 lity. His Madonnas are no longer symbols,of a certain phase of 
 divine awe, but pictures of maternal love. He humanized the 
 mysteries of faith. ” — Addington Symonds. 
 
20 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 But at the period of which we now write, Giotto 
 had been long laid in his grave; and the Renais¬ 
 sance was in the full glow of its vigorous prime. 
 There was an ever-growing rage for the revival of 
 classic Art and Literature. The nearer the artist 
 could approach the Greek ideal, the more he was glo¬ 
 rified and courted. And every Italian, says a famous 
 writer, from the Pope on his throne to the clerk in 
 a Florentine counting house, was a judge of Art. 
 
 Angelico Forty years after the death of Giotto there was 
 bom 1387 . jj 0rri j n t} ie va H e y 0 f the Mugello, only a few miles 
 from Florence, and not far from the birth-place of 
 Giotto, the subject of our present sketch. The child 
 was called Guido. His father was probably a well- 
 to-do peasant farmer, who yielded to his son’s-desire 
 to study Art. We are told that when quite a little 
 boy he could earn his livelihood by illuminating cho¬ 
 ral hooks for the churches. Of his family we know 
 nothing except that he had a younger brother, who 
 must have been a small replica of this immortal An¬ 
 gelico. He, too, had a gift for painting, and at an 
 early age determined to devote himself and his talent 
 to religion. On the same clay the brothers of Mu¬ 
 gello donned the Dominican habit, and entered the 
 same convent of Fiesole. Guido was not twenty-one 
 when he took this important step. He was called in 
 religion Fra Giovanni, but the reverence his works 
 and his life inspired won from his countrymen the 
 surnames of Angelico and II Beato. He and his 
 brother followed the fortunes of the fraternity when 
 they were transplanted from Fiesole to San Marco, 
 under the leadership of St. Antonino. In San Marco 
 the most of his long and peaceful life was spent, and 
 in San Marco he left the most valuable and character¬ 
 istic of his works. 
 
 At this time the Giotto school had been flourishing 
 for a century; but, from a too-rigid adherence to pri- 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 
CHAPTER II. — FRA ANGELICO. 
 
 21 
 
 mitive rules and precepts, it had not made that pro¬ 
 gress which its early years had promised. A close 
 copy of Nature, with undeviating fidelity in every 
 detail, was the great canon to which the painters of 
 this period adhered so strictly, that little play was 
 left for the imagination. The cold, classic realism 
 into which the Giotto style had gradually stiffened 
 was contrary to the artistic instincts of Fra Ange¬ 
 lico, and he felt it would be impious to violate those 
 instincts. When first executing the commissions of 
 Cosmo de Medici, he tried to please the classic taste 
 of his patron in all things; but his heart rebelled 
 against the uncongenial work. He broke through the 
 hitherto unalterable canons of art, and abandoned 
 himself to the sway of his original genius. Instead 
 of literal portraits of commonplace mortals, he peo¬ 
 pled the canvas with seraphic forms wrought out of 
 the golden hues of his rich imagination. He sought 
 his inspiration from Heaven, and from Heaven he felt 
 it came. When pacing the quiet cloisters, his liquid 
 eyes, in which the fire of genius was softened by the 
 mild light of religion, fixed on the star-lit sky, he 
 would thrill and turn pale with a sudden conception, 
 and, before that conception was brought to maturity, 
 he spent sleepless nights praying, and sometimes weep¬ 
 ing, at the foot of the Cross. He painted the cru¬ 
 cified Lord on his knees, his soul wrapt in heavenly 
 visions while he worked. He never retouched his 
 pictures; as they came from his hand while the in¬ 
 spiration was upon him, so they remained. It is 
 needless to say that Fra Angelico never worked for 
 pay, and never executed a picture that was not in¬ 
 tended to touch the heart and inspire high and holy 
 sentiments in the mind of the beholder. And in this 
 he succeeded as no one had ever succeeded before. 
 Other painters of the Giottesque school may have sur¬ 
 passed him in design, in colour, and in form. Making 
 
 2 
 
22 
 
 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 the voluptuous types of Greek and Roman art their 
 models, they aimed at external perfection; but to 
 Fra Angelico was given to paint the soul. K No one 
 need ever hope to equal him in his representation of 
 the Divinity,” says a modern critic . 1 His Madonnas 
 have such a soft, pensive grace, such a look of ten¬ 
 der, devout contemplation, that the imagination is 
 touched while the sense of beauty is satisfied. The 
 chaste simplicity of Mary’s long, straight robe, the 
 graceful folds in which the mantle falls so naturally, 
 are expressive in themselves, and are in perfect 
 keeping with the timid bearing and seraphic counte¬ 
 nance, forming a harmonius whole which the eye rests 
 on with pleasure, and quits with reluctance . 2 
 
 Fra Angelico, like most great painters, was a very 
 hard worker. He left innumerable memorials of him¬ 
 self in all the convents he inhabited — Perugia, Cor¬ 
 tona, Fiesole, and San Marco. He assisted in adorn¬ 
 ing the Cathedral of Orvieto and the Church of Santa 
 
 1 Padre Marchese, author of several works on Art. 
 
 2 " His most beautiful faces seem copied from angels seen in 
 vision, not from sons of men. ” — Addington Symonds. 
 
 * Although beautiful and ideal, his Christ, even in celestial 
 triumph, is pale, pensive and slightly emaciated. He is the 
 eternal friend, the somewhat melancholy consoler of the Imita¬ 
 tions; the poetic merciful Lord, as the subdued heart images him. 
 He is not the over-healthy figure of the Renaissance painters. 
 His long curling hair and blond beard sweetly frame his features. 
 Sometimes he smiles faintly, while his gravity is never disasso¬ 
 ciated with affectionate benignity. 
 
 ” The Virgin, kneeling with down cast eyes, seems a young 
 maiden at her first Communion. Occasionally her head is too 
 large, as is common with the inspired; her shoulders are narrow 
 and her hands small. The spiritual inward life has reduced the 
 other life. The long blue mantle wrought in gold in which she 
 is always enveloped, scarcely allows it to be supposed that she 
 has a body. No one can imagine, before having seen it, such 
 immaculate modesty and virginal candor. By her side Raphael’s 
 virgins are merely simple vigorous peasants. ” — Taine. 
 
 " The frescoes I care most for in Florence were the few that 
 a donna was allowed to see in the convent of San Marco by 
 Fra Angelico. ” — George Eliot. 
 

CHAPTER II. — FRA ANGELICO. 
 
 23 
 
 Maria Novella in Florence. He painted the walls of 
 a chapel at Rome for Pope Nicholas Y. At the Louvre 
 in Paris there is an altar-piece by him — the Corona¬ 
 tion of the Virgin; and in Berlin there is a picture 
 of his, representing St. Francis and St. Dominick 
 embracing. From another hand than his, this might 
 have been thought a satire, as the followers of those 
 two illustrious saints hated each other to the death. 
 
 The calm, uneventful life of the great' mystic is 
 comprised in the description of his works, for he 
 lived in his art. He was modest, kind-hearted, sim¬ 
 ple, strict in his religious observances. When he was 
 painting in the Vatican, the Pope invited him to 
 breakfast on a fast-day, on which occasion he de¬ 
 clined to eat meat, in spite of the Pope’s permission. 
 He died in Rome 1455, in the sixty-eighth year of 
 his age. Vasari says : 
 
 Cf Fra Giovanni was a man of simple life and most 
 holy manners; he shunned all worldliness, and lived 
 purely. He was a friend to the poor, as truly I 
 
 believe his soul to be in heaven this day. 
 
 He was never known to be in anger with the other 
 frati — which wonderful thing seems almost impossi¬ 
 ble to believe.” From this we conclude that the 
 distinguished author of the " Lives of the Painters ” 
 had found the brethren very aggravating people. 
 
 Angelico had lived to see the decay of the reli¬ 
 gious school of Giotto, of which he was the last or¬ 
 nament ; but he had seen rise from it, Phoenix-like, 
 a new one, full of life and nature and grace, and he 
 rejoiced in it; for whatever tended to the glory of 
 art could not fail to make him happy. He had 
 brought new lustre to Christian art, and pointed 
 moral and religious lessons to his own and future ge¬ 
 nerations. He had played his part, and was content 
 to slip away quietly and make room for rising stars. 
 
Chapter III. 
 
 SAVONAROLA. 
 
 His nature is too noble for the world: 
 
 He would not flatter Neptune for his trident, 
 
 Or Jove for ’s power to thunder. His heart’s his mouth; 
 What his breast forges, that his tongue must vent. 
 
 A rarer spirit never 
 Did steer humanity. 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 1 . 
 
 We turn another page in the annals of San Marco, 
 and a fresh portrait meets our view. It is a very 
 different face from that of the withered, toothless 
 saint, with a black skull-cap, and an expression of 
 imperturbable serenity on his benevolent old face. 
 Neither does it resemble the mystic painter, with the 
 hood thrown back from his smooth brow, and his 
 dreamy dark eyes wrapt in heavenly contemplation. 
 It is the profile of a man in the prime of life, with 
 a black hood drawn close round a face not by any 
 means handsome, but full of concentrated force, 
 moral and intellectual. His rugged brow projects 
 over eyes which have been variously described as 
 grey and blue, but which in the portrait seem dark 
 hazel — eager, passionate, piercing eyes, in wdiich his 
 soul might be read by any one bold enough to bear 
 their fiery, penetrating glance. They are eyes more 
 accustomed to interrogate than be interrogated, for 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 25 
 
 they belong to a man to whom the human heart was 
 an open book. The high arch of the nose indicates 
 the power and the will to command, while the firmly- 
 shut mouth has a self-contained, resolute expression. 
 The lower jaw projects overmuch, and gives a some¬ 
 what pugnacious and plebeian look to the counte¬ 
 nance. That striking, unsymmetrical, passion-worn 
 face rivets the attention of the beholder; and while 
 he gazes at it, he begins to comprehend the myste¬ 
 rious, latent power by which the owner swayed the 
 minds of men. The hands do not appear in the 
 portrait — those wonderfully expressive, transparent 
 hands, so delicate that they did not seem to belong to 
 the dark, rugged face; but we can imagine them folded 
 on the breast of his white tunic, clasping the red cross. 
 
 The plain exterior of this Dominican monk en¬ 
 shrined a heart and brain of that rare quality which 
 the world seldom sees twice in the same century. In 
 fact, he was one of Nature’s kings; a regal diadem 
 would have suited him better than the cowl, and he 
 would have borne the sceptre more effectively than 
 the cross. He loved power, but it was no vulgar am¬ 
 bition which urged him in pursuit of it. The lofty 
 aim to which his soul aspired was the reformation 
 of the Church, and, through it, the purification of 
 the Christian world. No one was willing or able to 
 perform this herculean task but him. Like Hamlet, 
 he felt the world was out of joint, and he was born 
 to set it right. The brutal, besotted world would not 
 be set right, and so, after a long, fierce struggle, the 
 world was triumphant, and the trumpet-voice of the 
 reformer silenced in death. 
 
 San Marco is alive with memories of this great, 
 unhappy man, who makes his individuality felt above 
 his fellows, even after the lapse of four centuries. 
 His all-powerful enemies, who tried every art, could 
 never succeed in stamping him out of existence. His 
 
26 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 ronaiola 
 n 1452'. 
 
 memory has survived every persecution, every ca¬ 
 lumny ; and the late repentant Florentines have built 
 within the walls of San Marco a tomb to the prophet 
 whom their fathers stoned. Here is a brief epitome 
 of his thrilling story: — 
 
 Eight years before the death of the Archbishop 
 St. Antonino, there was born in Ferrara, 21st Septem¬ 
 ber, 1452, Girolamo, third son of Dr. Niccolo Savo¬ 
 narola — a man of ancient and respectable family, 
 hut in reduced circumstances. The early education 
 of his boys was watched over by their grandfather, 
 and he soon perceived in the little Girolamo indica¬ 
 tions of a mind and character above the common. 
 He entered the college of Ferrara when still a child, 
 where he distinguished himself in classic studies, to 
 which he applied himself so closely that his health 
 began to suffer. As a hoy, he was employed to as¬ 
 sist the professors, and was considered a very effi¬ 
 cient teacher. Ferrara had a gay, brilliant Court, 
 and the young Savonarola, who was well-connected, 
 might, if he chose, have partaken of its festivities. 
 But he disliked fashionable society so much, that he 
 never hut once presented himself there. He lived in 
 great retirement, devoting his leisure hours to the 
 composition of poetry and playing on the lute. How¬ 
 ever, at the age of eighteen he found time to fall in 
 love with a young lady who lived opposite to him. 
 It is difficult to imagine the austere prophet enacting 
 the part of a young lover. But this is the only weak¬ 
 ness of his for the fair sex on record, and it was of 
 brief duration. The lady was the illegitimate daugh¬ 
 ter of the great Florentine house of Strozzi; but Sa¬ 
 vonarola did not mean to let that stand in the way 
 of their union, and one day he asked her permission 
 to address himself to her parents. The young co¬ 
 quette replied haughtily that it was not meet for a 
 daughter of the noble house of Strozzi to mate with 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 27 
 
 a Savonarola. Girolamo replied passionately, remind¬ 
 ing her of her irregular birth. 
 
 Though a mere boy, Savonarola had a bitter awak¬ 
 ing from his “ love’s young dream.” It seemed to 
 have made a deep and lasting impression on him. 
 His poetical effusions, written during the following 
 year, take a most melancholy and hopeless view of 
 life. For the next two years he worked very hard, 
 and became daily more oppressed by the corruptions 
 and wickedness of the world. He shunned the so¬ 
 ciety of his fellow-students, and took long solitary 
 walks after dark outside the city gates. In one of 
 those rambles he reached the neighbouring town of 
 Faenza, where he entered a church by chance, and 
 heard a sermon from a friar which decided him on 
 the turning-point of his existence. Many years after, 
 he spoke of the extraordinary effect of that sermon, 
 and said: ff I have it all in my heart, even now.” 
 He returned home full of serious thoughts, which con¬ 
 tinued to disturb him all night, and the morrow found 
 him firmly resolved to assume the sacerdotal dress. 
 Still, he allowed nearly another year to elapse before 
 taking the irrevocable step. It was a period of in¬ 
 tense excitement, which deprived him of rest and ap¬ 
 petite. The mental struggle he was undergoing was 
 not caused by any weak regrets for the world, in the 
 common acceptation of the phrase. The doubts which 
 assailed him were suggested by the fear that he was 
 forsaking the duty he owed to fondly-attached pa¬ 
 rents and a rather helpless young family. But he 
 felt the call of his vocation imperative. 
 
 His final resolution was conveyed to his father in 
 a letter written from a monastery in Bologna, whi¬ 
 ther he had fled secretly the day before. In this long 
 and affectionate epistle, he states at length the mo¬ 
 tives which had decided him to take the step; — 
 the great misery in the world and iniquity of men; 
 
28 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 the robberies, adulteries, pride, idolatry, cruelty. It 
 seemed to him that the age had become so wicked 
 that no one did good; all virtue was extinct. After 
 defending himself at some length, and dwelling on 
 the desire he had to 'fly from " bestiality ” and lead 
 a useful, rational, intellectual life, he adds: fr There¬ 
 fore, dearest father, instead of weeping, you ought to 
 thank the Lord that He has given you a son es¬ 
 teemed worthy to be enrolled as a soldier of Messer 
 Jesus Christ.” Then he breaks into the tenderest 
 expressions of affection, bids him comfort his mother, 
 and commends to his special care his little brother 
 Albert, of whom he was very fond. 
 
 Fra Girolamo, after a year’s probationary study, 
 took the irrevocable vows of a Dominican monk in 
 the twenty-fourth year of his age. His education was 
 so advanced that his superiors dispensed with the 
 ordinary course of study allotted to the young monks, 
 and appointed him to the duty of teaching philosophy. 
 He had been considered a brilliant scholar at college, 
 but he was sick of the disputes of the rival schools; 
 and pagan philosophy was one of the " vain things ” 
 that he wished to leave behind him on entering the 
 cloister; so he very unwillingly assumed the duty of 
 expounding it. Nevertheless, he found time to write 
 a book called " Compendio di Filosofia. ” It does 
 not appear from any written or spoken word that 
 Fra Girolamo ever looked back with regret to the 
 world he had left. As he regarded it at the age of 
 twenty he continued to regard it to the end of his 
 life — an impure, corrupt world, in which it was 
 hardly possible for a man to live honestly unless he 
 foreswore wealth and rank and pleasure. It did not 
 cost him much to abandon it; to a man of his re¬ 
 fined nature and high mental culture, material enjoy¬ 
 ments are as nothing compared with the require¬ 
 ments of his moral and intellectual life. 
 

CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 29 
 
 After a few years spent in teaching and studying, 
 
 Fra Girolamo was appointed to go on a preaching 
 mission. In 1483 he found himself in the convent of 1483. 
 San Marco, Florence, and was engaged to preach the 
 Lent sermons in the church of San Lorenzo. He had 
 scarcely begun his discourse, when he observed a ge¬ 
 neral movement towards the doors, and in a few mi¬ 
 nutes the faithful were issuing out of the edifice in 
 hot haste, so much were the sweet-tongued Floren¬ 
 tines disgusted by his plain, blunt manner and Lom¬ 
 bard accent. It is not recorded that the young prea¬ 
 cher consoled himself, like a certain great statesman 
 of our day, by saying: " The time will come when 
 you will listen to me! ” No prophetic instinct told 
 him of his future fame. But the time did come when 
 the vast cathedral could not hold the eager audience 
 which hung with reverence on every word that fell 
 from his lips. The disappointed preacher retired to 
 his cell, and gave himself up with more earnest de¬ 
 votion to the study of the Scriptures, to prayer, and 
 to fasting; for he attributed the failure to his own 
 unworthiness. The depression of spirits under which 
 he laboured was increased by the disturbed state of 
 the Church, and he gave vent to his feelings in a flood 
 of sweet, mournful verse. 
 
 The following year Savonarola began to preach in 
 his own country, where his provincial accent was no 
 hindrance. It was in the year 1487, in Brescia, that 1487. 
 he first felt himself impelled to use the language of 
 prophecy in denouncing imminent calamities on Italy, 
 if she did not repent and reform. About this time 
 he was sent as an envoy to a chapter of the Congre¬ 
 gation of Lombardy, where the fathers were met to 
 consider the corruption and decay of the religious 
 Orders. Savonarola, who is spoken of as a very 
 learned and devout man, advocated sweeping reforms. 
 
 And, indeed, if we may judge by a letter of his to a 
 
30 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 friend, the Countess Mirandola, the worthy fathers had 
 not taken up the matter too soon. He gives such a 
 picture of monastic life as induces the belief that he 
 had not much improved his society when changing 
 the secular for the religious dress. But the monastic 
 institution was not of his making, and all he could 
 do was to try and correct the abuses which were be¬ 
 coming more unblushing every year. He threw his 
 whole soul into the reform, and for a man in a su¬ 
 bordinate position accomplished much. 
 
 In addition to his great intellect and ardent faith, 
 Savonarola was gifted with that strong personality 
 which all religious leaders have possessed. In a let¬ 
 ter to his mother dated Genoa, he thus describes his 
 growing influence: 
 
 tr I study as well as I can to serve Him, and not 
 allow any earthly or carnal affection to draw me from 
 my work, because if He has given me the talent, I 
 must spend it so as to please Him. Then, my be¬ 
 loved mother, you ought not to grieve that I leave you, 
 and travel in divers cities, because all this I do for 
 the health of many souls — preaching, exhorting, con¬ 
 fessing, reading, and counselling. And when I wish 
 to depart, they weep, both men and women, and highly 
 prize my words. ” 
 
 In this same year, Fra Girolamo paid a last visit 
 to his family at Ferrara before setting out for Flo¬ 
 rence, where an irresistible fate was destined to draw 
 him into the vortex of European politics. Had he 
 any of the ambitious projects in his head that were 
 afterwards attributed to him, as he trudged along on 
 foot with a staff and wallet from Bologna to the 
 Tuscan capital ? What had a poor preaching friar and 
 bookworm to do with the complicated intrigues, and 
 villanous outrages that went under the name of State 
 affairs in Italy? Could he not do his duty quietly in 
 that sphere of life in. which Providence had placed 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAYONAROLA. 
 
 31 
 
 him, and forget Alexander VI and Charles VIII, and 
 Ludovico of Milan? That is to say, could he not shut 
 his eyes to corruption, injustice, cruelty, and every 
 species of crime, without protesting against them? He 
 could not. 
 
 There's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 
 Rough-hew them how we will; 
 
 and his destiny was carved out for him when Nature * 
 made him what he was. He was not a man that 
 could say his masses and count his beads calmly 
 while his country was sinking deeper and deeper in 
 the abyss of crime, when he felt that he had in him 
 the requisite qualities to raise her up, and combat 
 the evil tendencies of the age. In this journey, his 
 projects — if he then had any defined projects — were 
 well-nigh cut short. Travelling in the guise of a 
 pilgrim some hundred miles under an Italian sun 
 proved too much for his delicate frame. The pale, 
 hollow-eyed friar sank exhausted with a consuming 
 fever upon him on the threshold of a wayside cot¬ 
 tage. A good Samaritan cared for him like a bro¬ 
 ther, little dreaming when he showed this charity to 
 the poor traveller what a rare man his guest was. 
 
 It sometimes does happen that the hospitable enter¬ 
 tain angels unawares. 
 
 Once more in Florence, he was seized with the 
 same mystic presentiments of coming evil which had 
 formerly disturbed his mind on various occasions, and 
 with which he had struggled as sickly fancies. But 
 this time no amount of mental occupation could dis¬ 
 sipate the visions. He felt an inner warning that the 
 Church and the country should be purged by great 
 calamities, and it was his duty to announce it to the 
 world that they might prepare for it. Florence being 
 in the centre of Italy as the heart is in the centre of 
 the body , that city seemed to be the one in which the 
 
32 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 truth should he preached, so that it might he disse¬ 
 minated throughout the land. But Fra Girolamo was 
 not employed as a preacher in the Tuscan capital. 
 The fathers instead, probably remembering his early 
 failure, appointed him professor of moral philosophy 
 and theology. 
 
 But, even in the retirement of a monastic school, 
 such an intellect, now in the full maturity of its 
 powers, could not long remain hidden. The great- 
 original mind of Savonarola gave a new and wide 
 character to the lessons on philosophy. The students 
 crowded to the lecture-room with such unwonted 
 eagerness that the fathers’ attention being excited, 
 they also began to assemble and await with interest 
 the appearance of Fra Girolamo. By degrees the 
 fame of the lecturer began to spread beyond the con¬ 
 vent walls, and externs sought admittance, so that 
 the hall was too small for the audience, which had 
 to be transferred to the orchard. Savonarola had a 
 powerful, thrilling voice, but the sudden changes of 
 weather common in Florence, hurt his chest while 
 speaking in the open air. Finally, the prior, not 
 without some compunction, agreed to yield the church 
 for lectures on profane subjects. It was crowded to 
 overflowing on the first day. The influence of the 
 sacred edifice had such an effect on the lecturer’s 
 mind, that unconsciously his discourse glided into a 
 sermon. He saw before him a vast lay audience of 
 Florentines, the most intellectual and thoughtful mem¬ 
 bers of the community, whose conversion would be 
 well worth achieving, even if the work were to stop 
 with them. But doubtless the preacher was excited 
 by the idea that they would become the propagators 
 and instruments of his reform. So he preached a 
 startling, thrilling sermon, which had for its theme 
 the awful presentiments with which his mind had 
 been lately filled. He warned his hearers to prepare 
 

CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 33 
 
 for terrible calamities; the divine wrath would be 
 speedily poured out upon them for their wickedness. 
 The Church should be reformed and purified. To 
 Florence he specially addressed himself. " Firenze 
 sara flagellata , ” he said, with the terrible solemnity of 
 conviction. The audience stood mute and spell-bound; 
 the preacher’s eyes flashed, his slight frame trembled 
 and dilated as he denounced the sins of the Repu¬ 
 blic in a torrent of passionate language — the sud¬ 
 den outpouring of the pent-up indignation of years; 
 and he seemed to them an inspired prophet. 
 
 Fra Girolamo had achieved an immense success, 
 and he was not slow in following it up. His fame 
 as a preacher spread like the wind, and San Marco 
 became the most frequented church in Florence. Lo¬ 
 renzo il Magnifico, the grandson of that Cosmo of 
 St. Antonino’s time, now reigned over the so-called 
 Republic of Florence. He became alarmed at the 
 reflections suggested by the terrible preacher, and he 
 forthwith employed a clever Augustinian to reply to 
 him. But the hireling could make no stand against 
 the man who spoke from the depth of his convictions, 
 and the Dominican’s popularity increased daily. It 
 would appear that Savonarola had doubts as to 
 whether he was justified in giving free expression to 
 his previsions. He did not again touch upon them 
 for some time, and resolved to take another theme 
 for his Lent sermons in the Duomo, but the subject 
 forced itself on his mind to the exclusion of all others. 
 " God is my witness,” he says in his confession, ff that 
 all Saturday, and the night also, I remained in thought 
 and prayer, and never could turn my mind to any 
 other theme; and on Sunday morning, feeling much 
 exhausted because of the long vigil, I said : - Fool, do 
 you not see that it is the will of God that you should 
 preach on this subject?- And that day I made an 
 awakening discourse.” 
 
34 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 After this startling sermon in the Duomo, in which 
 Savonarola unmistakably declared himself the enemy 
 of corruption and tyranny and the champion of a 
 pure and liberal form of government, the Medici be¬ 
 came seriously alarmed, and some of the hangers-on 
 of the ruling family suggested the easy, and then com¬ 
 mon method of making away with the troublesome 
 Frate by assassination. Such a course was repugnant 
 to the feelings of the Magnificent, who, like all his 
 
 respect for Mind. He would 
 
 rather disarm hostility by the subtlety of his wit 
 than by force or treachery. Meantime the monks of 
 San Marco, over whom Savonarola had obtained a 
 wonderful ascendancy in spiter of the severity of the 
 customs which he practised and preached, hastened to 
 elect him to the priory of the Monastery, in order 
 to prevent the possibility of his being sent away on 
 any pretext. It had always been the custom for a 
 newly-elected abbot to pay a visit of thanks to the 
 head of the Republic, wdiose family had been such 
 liberal patrons of San Marco. Savonarola resolved to 
 maintain his independence, and would not go to do 
 homage for the promotion which he felt he did not 
 owe to the chief magistrate. 
 
 Lorenzo, who was anxious to make the personal 
 acquaintance of the remarkable preacher, awaited the 
 visit with impatience; and on finding that the haughty 
 Frate stood on his dignity, he went to the church of 
 San Marco, contrary to his custom, the following 
 Sunday, and after service took a walk in the garden, 
 attended by some of the monks. One of the brothers 
 sought the prior, who had retired to his study when 
 he left church, and begged him te give some sort of 
 welcome to the prince, who had condescended to visit 
 them. " Has he asked for me ? ” he inquired. The 
 monk replied in the negative. " Then leave him in 
 liberty,” said Sevonarola, turning to his book. Lo- 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 35 
 
 renzo soon after sent large donations to the Mona¬ 
 stery ; hut when the box was opened the prior or¬ 
 dered the money to be sent to the Buoni uomini di 
 San Martino. Lorenzo’s diplomacy was not proof 
 against repeated slights; he was roused to say 
 some bitter things of his irreconcileable foe, and 
 so the war went on till Savonarola one day gave 
 expression to these extraordinary words : " I am a fo¬ 
 reigner, and he is a citizen, and the first of the city. 
 Nevertheless, I shall remain, and he must depart/ 
 The fact that soon after the Medici grew fatally 
 ill, gave to Savonarola’s words the prestige of a 
 prophecy. 
 
 When Lorenzo felt his end approaching, his con¬ 
 science being tormented by painful memories which 
 his courtly confessors could not dissipate, he was 
 seized with a desire to see the remarkable priest, 
 whom gold could not buy nor Court favour soften; 
 and he sent a friend with a courteous message asking 
 the favour of a private interview. The prior came at 
 once to the villa, and was left alone with the dying 
 prince, who opened his mind to him freely. The 
 Frate prescribed three medicines to the diseased soul. 
 Firstly, to believe fervently on the mercy of Christ; 
 secondly, to make atonement to all those whom he 
 had wronged; thirdly, to restore to Florence the li¬ 
 berty of which his family had despoiled her. The 
 first two injunctions Lorenzo willingly agreed to obey, 
 but at the last he was silent. Savonarola was not 
 there in the character of a confessor, and did not 
 urge his advice. When he was taking leave, it is said 
 Lorenzo begged his benediction, which the stern priest 
 refused. It is right to add that this last fact is not 
 well authenticated. It is certain Savonarola never 
 betrayed the confidence of a dying man, and it is 
 very improbable that the Medici would have related 
 the particulars of the interview to any one. 
 
36 
 
 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 1493 . 
 
 Soon after this (1493) Savonarola went on a preach¬ 
 ing mission to Bologna, which was then under the 
 sway of the great family of Bentivoglio — a curious 
 name, signifying 1 love thee well. The wife of the 
 reigning potentate was a proud lady, who came to 
 church attended by a numerous retinue of satellites; 
 besides which she had the vice of coming in late ” 
 and disturbing the congregation. Savonarola made 
 a request from the pulpit that every one should be 
 placed before the sermon began. The lady Bentivo¬ 
 glio took no notice of the hint. Then he called on 
 her, and politely represented the inconvenience of the 
 proceeding. There was an authority in Savonarola’s 
 mildest speech which seldom failed to bow the will 
 of others to his own, and the lady graciously and 
 respectfully promised to attend to his wishes. But 
 the wicked young courtiers laughed her out of her 
 good intention, and she went to the next sermon with 
 a great following of ladies, gentlemen, servants, 
 guards, etc.—all late. The Frate, who was a man 
 of fiery temperament, though habitually kept under 
 control, lost his self-possession and exclaimed an¬ 
 grily : ft Here is the demon coming to disturb the 
 Word of God ! ” 
 
 An unseemly uproar took place. The lady faint¬ 
 ed, and two of her brothers rushed to the pulpit, 
 menacing the preacher with violence ; but he was pro¬ 
 tected by the congregation, some of whom carried 
 the riotous nobles out of the church. The Countess 
 Bentivoglio could not pardon so great an insult; she 
 hired assassins to murder the offending priest, and 
 they were actually introduced into his private apart¬ 
 ments ; but in the presence of the minister of God 
 the ruffians’ courage failed. In consequence of this 
 misadventure, Savonarola’s friends hurried him away 
 from Bologna, the Lent sermons being then almost 
 at a close. 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 37 
 
 II. 
 
 The more we read of the evidence of those who 
 knew the great Frate intimately, and of his own 
 writings and private correspondence, the more we feel 
 disposed to acquit him of any preconceived designs 
 of meddling in politics. His mind was from boyhood 
 dominated by an intense, passionate religious feeling, 
 which rendered his life, in the midst of an impious 
 generation, insupportable, and forced him to tear 
 himself loose from his much-loved family to bury 
 himself in a convent. This religious zeal never de¬ 
 creased during his monastic life — if anything, it 
 became intensified. The reforms of which he dreamed 
 were to be effected by the purifying influence of the 
 Gospel, in which he had profound faith — not by po¬ 
 litical revolutions. There was a poetic mysticism per¬ 
 vading Savonarola’s religious sentiments which seem 
 antagonistic to the spirit of a political agitator. In 
 reading his tracts, one feels that the writer speaks 
 from the experience of his own feelings. In his Treat¬ 
 ise on the Love of Jesus Christ , he thus expresses 
 himself: " The love of Christ is that lively affection by 
 which the believer desires that his soul become almost 
 part of that of Christ, and that the life of the Lord 
 should reproduce itself in him, not by external imita¬ 
 tion, but by internal and divine inspiration. He would 
 desire that the religion of Christ would be in him so 
 real that he would suffer His martyrdom, and mysti¬ 
 cally ascend the cross itself with Him. This love is 
 omnipotent, and cannot be had without grace, because 
 it raises the man above himself, and unites the finite 
 creature to the infinite Creator. Man, in fact, mounts 
 continually from humanity to Divinity, when he is 
 animated by this love, which is the sweetest of all 
 the affections, penetrates the soul, dominates the body, 
 
 3 
 
38 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 and makes the believer walk on the earth as though 
 wrapt in the Spirit.” 
 
 Fra Girolamo’s keen insight into the human heart 
 showed him the great power which was given him to 
 exercise over his fellow-men, and he felt profoundly 
 the weight of his responsibility. Never did a man 
 use this power more conscientiously for their benefit. 
 He worked with a zeal that permitted him no repose, 
 spending health and strength with a generous prodi¬ 
 gality. But what was the use of preaching morality 
 to the people while the clergy set the example of 
 every species of corruption ? And what could be 
 expected of the clergy when the rulers of the Church 
 were the scandal of Christendom, and the Pope himself 
 an incarnation of every vice which has stained huma¬ 
 nity in a civilised age and country? The generation 
 that owned a Borgia as the head of the Church — 
 what hope was there for it? It must have come to 
 war sooner or later, and he, with that keen far-sighted¬ 
 ness of his, must have known it. He knew he would 
 have terrible odds to fight against; hut that faith in 
 himself as the instrument of God was strong in him; 
 he believed he would be supported and sustained in 
 the holy cause; but he would neglect no prudent pre¬ 
 caution to fortify himself against the enemy. He would 
 avoid any overt act of aggression that would call 
 down the vengeance of the Pope while his party was 
 still weak and unstable. So he worked on resolutely, 
 preaching against the corruptions of manners and the 
 corruption of the clergy, but not attacking any one 
 personally. 
 
 Savonarola’s love of country, though deep and pas¬ 
 sionate, was of that wise, noble sort which had for 
 its object, not the temporary triumph of one State 
 or city over another by brute force, but the moral 
 regeneration of all Italy. Anticipating the work of 
 reform, he had obtained from the preceding Pope 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 39 
 
 permission to break the San Marco connection with 
 Lombardy, as it was a drag on his independence, and 
 he wished to establish himself firmly in Florence, as 
 the centre of his great work. He began his reforms 
 by selling the property of the Monastery, in spite of 
 some serious opposition on the part of the monks. 
 
 It was a time of scarcity, and Savonarola’s fervent 
 sermons on charity had more effect when the fact 
 was known that he had set the example of sacrificing 
 the wealth of his Monastery to the exigencies of the 
 time. " 0 Religiosi! ” lie exclaimed, addressing him¬ 
 self to the monks, rf will you have your rich taber¬ 
 nacles, your granaries, and your cellars full, while 
 the poor die of hunger and thirst? Is this your vow 
 of poverty ? All that you have of superfluous goods, 
 is it not robbed from Christ’s poor? ” 
 
 Lorenzo was dead, and the reins of Government 
 hung loose in the feeble hands of Pietro, his son. All 
 the effects of the Medici misgovernment remained, 
 with the addition of a little more lawlessness. His 
 miserable rule was brought to a termination by his 
 own cowardly vacillating policy. In 1493 Charles VIII 1493 . 
 of France, invited by the Duke of Milan, marched 
 into Italy, at the head of a great army, to settle some 
 family claims to the throne of Naples, and make ar¬ 
 rangements for the defence of Europe against the 
 incursions of the Turks. He was to pay a friendly 
 visit to Florence en route; and this intelligence threw 
 the Republic into a terrible state of alarm. The 
 authorities begged Fra Girolamo to preach in the 
 Duomo, to quiet the people, who were threatening to 
 rise, and sack the houses of the nobility, who had so 
 long robbed and oppressed them. The Frate’s voice 
 had magic power to still the strong passions of men. 
 
 He lectured them for their sinfulness and worldliness, 
 and said the King of France was the instrument in 
 the hands of the Almighty to work out the castiga- 
 
40 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 tion which was prepared for them. But still, if they 
 would repent and reform, and turn to a righteous 
 life, there might he pardon for them. Above all, 
 there must he forgiveness of enemies, universal peace 
 and union and love. 
 
 Meantime the Most Christian King had arrived 
 dangerously near Florence. He was, in fact, at Pisa, 
 having met with little opposition in the course of 
 his march, and having had a sort of triumphal entry 
 into Pisa, which was in a state of rebellion against 
 Florence. The miserable Pietro de # Medici having 
 betaken himself to the King’s presence to sue for 
 peace, surrendered fortresses into his hands, and 
 made the most dishonourable conditions that even 
 Charles could demand. The rage of the Florentines 
 was great when this news was conveyed to them. A 
 council was convened, in which the banishment of 
 the Medici was decided upon, and ambassadors chosen 
 to treat on the part of the Republic with the French 
 King. 
 
 Among these was Fra Girolamo, because he had 
 the confidence and love of the people, as veil as the 
 respect of the King. He addressed Charles as the 
 minister of justice in God’s hands, come to purify 
 and reform the Church; and as such he welcomed 
 him. But he warned him, in a threatening and so¬ 
 lemn manner, of the duties and responsibilities that 
 such a position entailed. While he spoke in his cha¬ 
 racter of priest Savonarola stood ; but when he came 
 to deliver the messages /of the Republic, he knelt 
 before the conqueror, and pleaded the cause of Flo¬ 
 rence with all the burning eloquence of which he was 
 master. 
 
 Charles was received courteously, but the Floren¬ 
 tines found it difficult to get rid of their unwelcome 
 guest. They found he regarded the city as a conquest, 
 and insisted on the recall of the banished Medici. 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 41 
 
 The firmness and courage of the brave Capponi saved 
 Florence the humiliating conditions, imposed by Char¬ 
 les. But when all was settled, and the peace signed, 
 the King seemed so enamoured of the grande ville 
 that he could not be got away, and the citizens and 
 French soldiers were continually having disagreeable 
 encounters. The city was in a state of suspense — 
 the shops shut up, and no regular Government in 
 office. The Signoria once more called in the aid of 
 the terrible Frate, whom they sent to remonstrate 
 with the King. He was treated with little respect by 
 the retainers, kept waiting in an anteroom, and finally 
 had almost to force his way into the audience cham¬ 
 ber. The proud spirit of Savonarola was chafed at the 
 delay of the interview, which, to him, was of vital 
 importance; so when the angry apostle burst into 
 the royal presence, he was all the priest, and no more 
 the diplomatist. Holding the cross on high, he com¬ 
 manded Charles, in the name of the King of kings, 
 to desist from any fell intention he might have against 
 the peace of an unoffending city. The King was 
 overawed, and denied all hostile designs against the 
 Republic. 
 
 " Most Christian Prince, ” said the Frate, rt God has 
 appointed you to a great office; but you neglect your 
 duty, waste your time, your soldiers become disor¬ 
 dered, and our citizens riotous by this prolonged stay.” 
 
 The next morning the French army marched out 
 of the grande ville , on which they had cast such co¬ 
 vetous eyes; and it is said, on good authority, that 
 not only the inferior officers but men of illustrious 
 rank, not excepting the Cristianissimo himself, took 
 some valuable souvenirs with them, rifled from the 
 magnificent palace of the Medici, where they were 
 lodged. 1 
 
 1 Villaki, History of Savonarola and his times. 
 
42 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 Immediately on tlie departure of the disagreeable 
 visitors, the Signoria began to think of establishing 
 some regular form of Government, and the great bells 
 of the Palazzo Yecchio rang to summon the people 
 to a Parliament or General Council — that being the 
 mode in which the tyrants of Florence had always 
 deluded the people with an appearance of liberty, and 
 the name of a Republic. The citizens, unaccustomed 
 to exercise their rights truly, were puzzled, and lost 
 in a maze of contradictory arguments on the part of 
 the statesmen who made up the Provisional Govern¬ 
 ment. Endless discussions seemed to be the only 
 result of the Parliament; and this, when the Republic 
 was in danger from the domestic intrigues of the Me¬ 
 dici party, from the rebel Pisans and other revolted 
 cities, and, worse than all, the French army returning 
 from Naples. All this time the want and scarcity 
 went on increasing because of the interrupted com¬ 
 merce and neglected agriculture, consequent on the 
 disturbed state of politics and threatened war. Sa¬ 
 vonarola worked day and night trying to reconcile 
 contending parties, and relieve the wants of the poor. 
 
 "Abandon pomp and vanity,” he said, in the 
 Duomo. " Sell your superfluous things, and give to 
 the poor citizens. Collect alms in all the churches 
 for the poor of the city and of the country. Spend 
 for them, at least this one year, the money for the 
 studies at the University of Pisa [then shut up]. If 
 it is not enough, we will lay our hands on the vases 
 of the Church. Charity over-rides all law. Above 
 all, make some provision to open the shops, and give 
 employment to the people who are standing idle in 
 the streets.” 
 
 In this moment of danger, confusion, and suffer¬ 
 ing, Savonarola was summoned to the Councils of 
 State. All felt that a master mind was needed to 
 guide them in the hour of peril, and he could not 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 43 
 
 refuse his aid at such a time. But in the Council 
 Chamber he was still the preacher. “ Purify your 
 souls, forget private interests, think of the common 
 good, forgive your enemies, and thus, my people, you 
 will commence not only the reform of Florence, but 
 of all Italy, and you will spread your wings through¬ 
 out the world, and bring reform to all the peoples. 
 — Your reform,” he adds, "must commence with 
 spiritual things which stand above material things, 
 and make the rule of life.” Then he gave his atten¬ 
 tion to the subject of the new Government, laying 
 down, as a first and absolute condition, universal 
 amnesty for all political offences. The liberal insti¬ 
 tutions which were then inaugurated were partly mo¬ 
 delled on the Venetian Republic, and partly on some 
 of the old Florentine laws. The sham Parliaments 
 were abolished; there were two Chambers in the Le¬ 
 gislature, and the people’s rights were secured by the 
 " Grand Council.” Fra Girolamo strongly impressed 
 upon the citizens the advisability of never allowing 
 any one man to rule the State, which, he said, was 
 a form of Government suited to Northern peoples, but 
 not to the Florentines. The citizens eagerly adopted 
 all his suggestions.. He united to the authority of a 
 zealous minister of religion of spotless life, the subtle 
 genius necessary to Statecraft, and he carried all be¬ 
 fore him. 
 
 Now Savonarola had at last an open field for his 
 reforms, and he was full of hope for the future. The 
 worldly, scornful, vicious Florence did not seem a pro¬ 
 mising field to " build up the kingdom of God ” in; yet 
 in a short time he had the great bulk of the people 
 accepting his teaching and living according to his pre¬ 
 cepts, which were rigid — perhaps in excess of what 
 was suitable to the disposition of a Southern people. 
 His followers were called Piagnoni, which means weep¬ 
 ers, because they lamented so continually over the 
 
/ 
 
 44 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 vices of the age. They belonged to all ranks and 
 ages; and the simple, just, honest lives they led made 
 the shameless corruptions of the old Court party 
 stand out in horrible contrast. The Medici were 
 called Palleschi, from the family crest, which is five 
 balls. It is needless to say that the Palleschi hated 
 the Piagnoni as Charles I’s Cavaliers hated Crom¬ 
 well’s Puritans — called them whining hypocrites, and 
 threw every obstacle in the way of the reform that 
 they dared do, without making themselves amenable 
 to the law. 
 
 The poor people, in their deep distress, suffered 
 terrible exactions form Jewish money-lenders ; and to 
 remedy this evil and put an end to usury, Savona¬ 
 rola established the pawn-offices called the Monte di 
 Pietd, under the special care of the Government, 
 where the poor were relieved from temporary wants 
 at a very small rate of interest. This was one of his 
 favourite institutions, for which he laboured conti¬ 
 nually and collected large subscriptions. 
 
 Another great work of his was his reclamation of 
 the children. Little boys of a great city are pretty 
 bad in all ages and countries; hut, by all accounts, 
 the little boys of Florence were particularly vicious. 
 Thinking of the future generation, and of those who 
 should carry on the work when he was dead, the 
 great reformer turned his attention to the young, as 
 a fertile field of operations. 
 
 Many thousands of street Arabs were reclaimed, 
 and put under a regular course of study and disci¬ 
 pline. They were formed into regiments, with a 
 captain at the head of each, and were employed in 
 various useful works. The reformation in the man¬ 
 ners of their sons had a great effect on the parents, 
 and won many adult converts. 
 
 Meantime, the popular Government, chiefly com¬ 
 posed of Piagnoni , consulted Savonarola in every im- 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 45 
 
 portant crisis of affairs, foreign and domestic, and he 
 was virtually the ruling spirit of the State, though 
 holding no office therein. Nor did he wish for any 
 title or dignity. Enough for him that they did his 
 will — carried out his ideas; he left to them the 
 empty honours. It was a pure theocracy which he 
 aimed at establishing; the Kepublic was to have no 
 head but the Supreme Being. Christ was to be its 
 only king. And the wicked little Florentines, who 
 had still to be diverted with religious fetes and pro¬ 
 cessions and military exercises, joyously shouted " Viva 
 Gesu, il nostro re!” It seems a little irreverent to 
 our ears; but the pious fathers thought it a blessed 
 sound, and a blessed sight to see all those young 
 scamps so orderly, well behaved, and obedient to the 
 will of their good pastor, whose word was a law to 
 them; whom in after-life they remembered with love 
 and gratitude as the being who had first awakened 
 a soul in them. He loved his young flock; they were 
 his hope and pride; even when he rebuked them it 
 was gently done, always addressing them as his 
 ff children, ” his ft beloved ones. ” 
 
 But we cannot suppose that Savonarola ever felt 
 his ideal realised, or that his followers fully carried 
 out his intentions. He told the boys not to make 
 such frequent use of sacred names, thereby leading 
 to irreverence; and we can well imagine that it was 
 not the extravagances of the children alone that of¬ 
 fended his taste and wounded his susceptibilities. 
 The great body of his disciples were an ignorant, ill- 
 trained multitude, always given to excess of some 
 sort or other; and some of his most influential fol¬ 
 lowers were injudicious, hot-headed men, who often 
 injured the cause instead of serving it. 
 
 Some Northern writers have claimed Savonarola 
 as a Protestant reformer; but there is really ho 
 ground for the assumption beyond the fact that he 
 
46 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 was a reformer. He never attacked the doctrines of 
 the Church, — only its corrupt practices, — and died, 
 beyond all doubt, in the Catholic faith. It is true 
 that he gave more prominence to the Bible as a rule 
 of life than Catholics do, that he studied it profoundly, 
 and always preached from it. It is also true that in 
 none of his sermons, tracts, or prayers do we find 
 the Madonna exalted to the place of Christ. He 
 speaks with reverence of the Virgin, but his prayers 
 were always addressed to the Most High. This was 
 not, however, at that time so strikingly at variance 
 with Catholic doctrine as to attract attention, the 
 exaltation of the Virgin being of comparatively re¬ 
 cent times; nor does Savonarola himself seem con¬ 
 scious of any difference in his faith from that of the 
 Church, of which he was to the last a faithful son. 
 It is true that he was accused of heresy at his trial, 
 but that was a common pretext to get rid of an 
 obnoxious person, and impartial Catholic writers have 
 all acquitted him of the charge. 
 
 We cannot, therefore, honestly claim Savonarola 
 as a Protestant, though we should be proud to enrol 
 him among our martyrs if he had been such. But 
 we honour his memory with as profound reverence, 
 admiration, and pity, as a noble Christian life, which 
 was one long struggle on the side of virtue against 
 vice, can inspire. 
 
 The political disturbances and threats of war had 
 left the Tuscan territories uncultivated for two years: 
 
 1495. and so, in 1495, there came a great famine. The 
 cruel laws obliged the starving workmen to return 
 to the place of their birth without furnishing them 
 with the means of so doing. Thousands of labourers 
 thus driven away with their families turned their 
 feeble steps towards Florence for succour, led thither 
 by the hope that the Frate’s piety inspired. Florence 
 had at that moment abundance of distress inside her 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 47 
 
 own walls to be relieved ; and the citizens had the 
 first claim, for the mediaeval man had little fellow- 
 , feeling for those outside La Patria, — i. e ., his own 
 city; all others were foreigners, almost always ene¬ 
 mies. So when the starving peasants presented them¬ 
 selves at the gates, the Magnificent Signoria were 
 divided between prudence and charity. But, fortu¬ 
 nately for the strangers, there was one citizen whose 
 large-hearted humanity was bounded by no geogra¬ 
 phical line. The Frate threw the full weight of his 
 authority into the scales of charity, and the helpless 
 foreigners were admitted — a haggard, sickly band, 
 already half-spent with want. All that Savonarola 
 and his friends could do was insufficient to supply 
 necessaries to all, and many perished from disease 
 brought on from hardship and exposure. The Frate 
 made almost superhuman efforts to succour those 
 that remained. The toil and anguish of spirit he en¬ 
 dured almost broke down his health. There is some¬ 
 thing grand in the simplicity of his address to his 
 flock on this occasion: " I desire much that pro¬ 
 vision be made for these poor people. Do you wish 
 to erect a beautiful temple, inhabited by the Deity? 
 Congregate the poor, supply their wants, be pitiful 
 to them .... Citizens, I say, call an auction, and 
 sell the precious things of the Church. I will be the 
 first to put the crosses and chalices of my Monastery 
 under the hammer.” 
 
 III. 
 
 Florence was growing peaceful, orderly, and reli¬ 
 gious under the wholesome rule of Savonarola; but 
 still, among the dregs of the population there was 
 enough ruffianism to cause serious disturbance wTien 
 put in motion by the Medici party, who were bitterly 
 opposed to him, because he was the champion of Flo- 
 
48 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 rentine liberty. These were always working secretly 
 for his destruction; and as the best means of effecting 
 it, insinuations were sent in to the Holy See against 
 his orthodoxy, and hints were given that he had 
 some unparalleled ambitious project in view. The 
 Pope and the mass of the degenerate clergy hated 
 him because he preached against the corruptions 
 of the Church. The crowned heads generally, and 
 Ludovic, of Milan, specially, hated him because 
 he preached against oppression and cruel exactions 
 and violent outrages. All these, working with the 
 Medici party in Florence, set about undermining his 
 influence with the people by circulating calumnies 
 about him. 
 
 At last the time had come for the conspirators to 
 make a move. Fra Girolamo was summoned to Rome 
 by the Pope in a most affectionate letter, in which 
 the Holy Father expressed his belief in the special 
 gift of his beloved son to reveal the will of the Al¬ 
 mighty, and said he wished to consult him on Church 
 matters. Fra Girolamo was an astute man, and saw 
 the snare; he excused himself on the ground of pres¬ 
 sing duties in Florence and delicate health; both of 
 which excuses were quite true in themselves, though 
 not the real cause of his holding back. The Pope 
 wrote again, and then Savonarola explained himself 
 more frankly. His life was beset by enemies who 
 had more than once attempted to destroy it, and he 
 dared not trust himself beyond the walls of Florence. 
 At this time Savonarola, worn out by his exertions 
 during the famine, was really ill, and had to leave 
 the preaching in the Duomo to his friend, Fra Do¬ 
 menico. The most dangerous enemies of the Frate 
 were the monks of St. Francis, because they worked 
 with such cunning; and one especially, whom he had 
 overcome in controversy, nourished a deadly animo¬ 
 sity towards him. These stirred up the Pope against 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAYONAROLA. 49 
 
 him till there came a bull prohibiting his preaching. 
 He was still in infirm health, and oppressed by do¬ 
 mestic as well as public troubles. His family were 
 in pecuniary distress, and had just lost a brother. 
 Savonarola’s family affection never became weakened 
 by time or separation. In his long letter, comforting 
 his mother for her recent loss, he felt it right to give 
 her a warning that his own death was not far distant. 
 " I would wish to see your faith such, that, like the 
 holy matrons of old, you could see your sons mar¬ 
 tyred before your eyes. Mother dearest, it is not 
 because I do not wish to comfort you I say this, but 
 because, if it should happen that I must die, you may 
 be prepared. ” 
 
 The Florentine Government felt insulted by the 
 prohibition of Fra Girolamo to preach, and all well- 
 wishers of peace felt that the good work of reform 
 would be seriously impeded if he remained inactive 
 during the Carnival. Remonstrances were addressed 
 to the Holy See, and the result was that a secret 
 message was sent to the Frate from Alexander YI, 
 offering him a cardinal’s hat on condition that he 
 changed his tone about the Church. He refused in¬ 
 dignantly, and after that he felt that it must be war 
 to the death. This fact will account for the melan¬ 
 choly forewarning in his letter to his mother, above 
 quoted. The Signoria, however, had, for the present, 
 their own way, and the prohibition was removed; so 
 that he was once more the leading spirit in Florence, 
 and was enabled to have the Carnival celebrated ac¬ 
 cording to his wishes. Before condemning the too 
 monastic spirit of Savonarola’s rule, it would be well 
 to read contemporary Florentine writers, and hear 
 how the Carnival was wont to be celebrated in that 
 city, with what brutal excesses, what obscene orgies, 
 what murderous riots, after which the reader will be 
 able to appreciate at its just value the wisdom of the 
 
50 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 man who held thus in the hollow of his hand the 
 fierce passions of such a people. 
 
 Instead, then, of masquerading and riotous festi¬ 
 vities, the Carnival was to be celebrated by a more 
 earnest devotion to religious duties, and was to be 
 wound up by an extraordinary spectacle in the Piazza 
 della Signoria. The youthful army which Savonarola 
 had caused to be organised were sent in detachments 
 through the city, collecting materials for a bonfire of 
 vanities on the last day of the Carnival — that is, 
 Shrove Tuesday. These consisted of masks and mas¬ 
 querading dresses, and extravagantly gay attire, paint 
 pots, false hair, &c.; cards, dice-boxes, and everything 
 appertaining to the gaming-table; pictures and books 
 of an impure and immoral tendency — all forming a 
 heterogeneous mass of enormous proportions, under¬ 
 neath which was laid brushwood and other combu¬ 
 stibles. 
 
 The boys were dressed for a religious festival in 
 white stoles, each carrying a small red cross; and, 
 says the historian, it was a lovely sight to see the 
 youthful soldiers of Christ marching in a great body 
 to the Duomo to receive the Holy Communion from 
 the hands of Fra Girolamo, chanting in their sweet 
 young voices his beautiful Hymn to Christ: 
 
 Viva, viva in nostro core 
 
 Cristo, re, duce e signore. 
 
 In the afternoon almost the whole city added 
 itself to the procession of the children, all sober, 
 orderly, serious, each man and woman carrying the 
 red cross, chanting psalms and sacred songs, domi¬ 
 nated by a profound religious enthusiasm. Arrived 
 at the Piazza, the Pyramid of Vanities was fired; and 
 while it was being consumed, the people sang a song 
 especially composed for the occasion. The ceremony 
 was closed with the usual Hymn to Christ. The boys, 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 51 
 
 instead of levying black-mail on the passers-by, as 
 they were wont to do, for the expenses of their 
 riotous feasts, collected large sums for the charity of 
 the Buoni uomini di San Martino. 
 
 Unhappily there perished in this auto-da-fe a book 
 of Boccaccio’s, the Decanter one, and some say, Pe¬ 
 trarch’s sonnets. We say unhappily, though, not being 
 the only copy, the world sustained no loss; but the 
 fact has been used against the memory of Savona¬ 
 rola, we think unjustly. Firstly, because it is not 
 fair to hold a leader responsible for every folly and 
 excess bis followers may be guilty of. No great re¬ 
 former ever sees his ideal carried into perfection. He 
 has not the making of his instruments; he must work 
 with what come to his hand, and they often miscon¬ 
 ceive his meaning and exceed his wishes. 
 
 But we do not care to defend Savonarola from 
 this unreasonable charge. We are by no means sure 
 that he would have saved Boccaccio’s work if he had 
 been consulted. It is just possible that he would 
 have tossed it into the flames with his own scholarly 
 hands. It is true that he was a man of vast learn¬ 
 ing, and loved books with an ardor second only to 
 his love for the souls of men, perishing, as he be¬ 
 lieved, through their love of pleasure. Duty, self-denial, 
 sacrifice was what they needed to be taught. Such 
 writers as Boccaccio, no one will deny, were calcu¬ 
 lated to encourage rather than counteract the fatal 
 vices of the age, against which he was waging a war 
 literally of life and death. As a religious and social 
 reformer of the 15th century, he had rough work to 
 do, which left him, we may imagine, little time for 
 nice, discerning criticism on the light literature of 
 the day. But that he was actuated by pure Vanda¬ 
 lism no reasonable, just-minded person will believe. 
 In the main, he had good substantial reasons for 
 what he did; and if he erred on the side of severity, 
 
52 
 
 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 as the English Puritans did, it was a natural error, 
 the circumstances considered. 1 
 
 It seems a curious contradiction that a man who 
 brought to all social questions and to the govern¬ 
 ment of Church and State such a clear, astute practi¬ 
 cal intellect, should have been so dominated by the 
 imagination as to lend a superstitious faith to the 
 fancies of an over-wrought brain, excited by pro¬ 
 longed fasts and vigils, and to take them as veritable 
 revelations from above. But so it was. Savonarola 
 had had certain previsions of coming evils to his 
 country, and foretold them, and the evils had come, 
 which confirmed him in his faith more strongly, and 
 made him believe himself a true prophet. Believing 
 it firmly as he did, it was not strange that he made 
 others believe it — even the Florentines, whose keen 
 intellect, high culture, and sceptical nature made 
 them seem unlikely subjects for conversion. 
 
 Florence in those days, indeed, seemed trans¬ 
 formed from wha t it had been, and Savonarola from the 
 pulpit addressed his flock in a tone of congratulation 
 as he enumerated the evil customs abolished and 
 described the honest, regular life now led by the 
 citizens when compared with the past. His labours 
 seemed at last to be rewarded. 
 
 But even then, while he thrilled with happy 
 emotion, a fearful anxiety was wearing out his heart. 
 He had disobeyed the Pope’s repeated commands, and 
 was in tacit rebellion against him. The prejudices of 
 ages still held him back from throwing down the 
 gauntlet to the Head of the Church; but he felt each 
 
 1 * For a mind like that of Savonarola imbued with religious 
 sentiment Florentine Art acted like sacred music, and bore witness 
 to the omnipotence of genius inspired by faith. The paintings of 
 Angelico appeared to have brought down angels from Heaven to 
 dwell in the cloisters of San Marco, and he felt as if his soul 
 had been transported to the realms of the blessed. ” — Villari, 
 Life of Savonarola. 
 
 i 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 53 
 
 day drawing him nearer and nearer to an open 
 rupture. His destiny was dragging him on — how 
 could he resist it? In one of his sermons preached 
 at this time, he declared, with passionate earnestness, 
 he was ready to die for the faith — nay, he desired 
 it. Among the presentiments which haunted him 
 from time to time was a forewarning of his fate. In 
 his Hymn to the Cross , he says: 
 
 Jesus! would my heart were burning 
 With more fervent love for Thee! 
 
 Would my eyes were ever turning 
 To Thy Cross of Agony! 
 
 Would that, on that Cross suspended, 
 
 I the martyr-pangs might win, 
 
 Where the Lord, the heaven-descended, 
 
 Sinless, suffered for my sin! 
 
 In another poem, called Jesus to the Soul, the 
 same idea is perceptible. It breathes a spirit of the 
 purest Christianity to which no religionist, of what¬ 
 ever persuasion, could take exception. 
 
 Fair soul! created in the primal hour, 
 
 Once pure and grand, 
 
 And for whose sake I left My throne and power 
 At God’s right hand! 
 
 By this sad heart, pierced through because I love thee, 
 
 Let love and mercy to contrition move thee! 
 
 Cast off the sins, thy holy beauty veiling, 
 
 Spirit divine! 
 
 Vain against thee the hosts of hell assailing — 
 
 My strength is thine! 
 
 Drink from My heart the wine of life immortal, 
 
 And love will lead thee back to heaven’s portal. 
 
 Quench in My light the flame of low desire; 
 
 Crush doubt and fear; 
 
 Even to My glory may each soul aspire 
 If victor here. 
 
 Hie now from earth, with earthly vanity, 
 
 And live for evermore in heaven with Me. 
 
 4 
 
54 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 I, for thy sake, was pained many sorrows, 
 
 And bore the Cross; 
 
 Yet heeded not the galling of the arrows, 
 
 The shame and loss; 
 
 So faint not thou, whate’er the burden be, 
 
 Bear with it bravely, even to Calvary. 
 
 Still shall My Spirit urge, if thou delayest, 
 
 My hand sustain; 
 
 My blood wash out thy errors if thou strayest; — 
 
 Plead I in vain? 
 
 An hour is coming when the judgment loometh; 
 
 Repent, fair soul, ere yet that hour cometh! 1 
 
 Savonarola’s oft-repeated prophecy that Florence 
 should he scourged was amply fulfilled. A fearful 
 pestilence had followed on the heels of famine, which 
 devastated the poorer parts of the city, and sent the 
 wealthy citizens in a stampede to their villas in the 
 country. Savonarola and his fraternity were incited 
 in every direction by the Piagnoni, who put large 
 houses at their disposition; but the prior and the 
 elder monks refused to quit Florence, where they 
 were just then so much needed, contenting themselves 
 with sending the schoolboys and novices to a place 
 of safety till the plague began to abate. 
 
 The great object of the conspirators now was to 
 get the Frate out of Florence, where he was always 
 protected by the Piagnoni , and make away with him, 
 either by assassination by the road, or judicial mur¬ 
 der in Rome. But to Rome the Frate would not go. 
 The fear of the German invasion had made the Si- 
 gnoria remove the prohibition to preach, because they 
 needed the powerful voice to keep the people quiet; 
 hut when the danger was passed, they began to feel 
 uncomfortable, as the Pope’s ire was still high against 
 the preacher, and the Florentines did not wish 
 to cut loose from the Holy See. Nevertheless, they 
 
 Translation by Lady Wilde. 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 55 
 
 were shocked by the scandals of the Borgia family, 
 which just then reached a culminating point in the 
 treacherous murder of the Pope’s eldest son, the Duke 
 of Candia, by his brother Caesar. Alexander YI, 
 strange to say, had strong paternal affection. The 
 grief into which this deed threw him seemed to have 
 struck him with a transitory remorse for his own 
 crimes, and he called a council to consider a reform 
 of the Church government. Savonarola, although 
 under censure at the time, seized the occasion to 
 write him a letter, which he hoped would touch his 
 awakening conscience. It was the letter of a minister 
 of religion calling a sinner to repentance, thinly veiled 
 by the respectful forms which etiquette prescribed in 
 addressing a prince and the Head of the Church. 
 The Pope was not offended; but afterwards, when he 
 had resumed his wicked way again, he said “ that 
 insolent Frate had dared to insult his paternal grief.” 
 
 Savonarola felt his time was short; there was no 
 longer any hope from the Vatican, so he spoke out 
 plainly— no longer in veiled language, but in a voice 
 of thunder. He had told the Church long ago, and 
 again and again, she was a shameless, dishonoured 
 thing — the abomination of all good men. Now he de¬ 
 clared it was lawful to disobey a wicked Pope, whose 
 election had been illegal and simoniacal — nay, it was 
 not lawful to obey him. Florence was electrified at 
 these discourses. She was not prepared to go all the 
 lengths with him, for it would have been strongly 
 against her interests to break with Rome. She was 
 then threatened with an interdict for allowing the 
 heretical, rebellious Frate to mount the pulpit of the 
 Duomo. So he was once more constrained to retire 
 to his monastery. These intervals of silence Savona¬ 
 rola spent in his study, writing and dictating letters 
 to his secretary — for he had an overwhelming cor¬ 
 respondence — in which were embraced many crowned 
 
56 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 heads. One important letter penned at this time was 
 addressed to the King of France, begging of him to 
 call a council and depose Alexander VI. Letters to 
 the same effect were addressed to the other Sovereigns 
 of Europe; hut this one to Charles, which was more 
 peremptory, fell into the hands of the enemy, and was 
 transmitted to Rome. 
 
 His enemies, unhappily, were not all outside Flo¬ 
 rence. There were the Arrabbiati (enraged party), 
 consisting of the Medici and other members of the 
 nobility, who hated him because he had given liberal 
 institutions to the Republic, and was the people’s 
 friend. There were the Compagnacci (evil companions), 
 an armed band of 500 men of, the worst characters 
 in the city, headed by a stupid ruffian of high birth, 
 called Dolfo Spini, who hated him because he had 
 put a stop to their lawless pleasure. There was the 
 clerical party, who hated him because he wanted to 
 reform the Church. All these worked together to 
 undermine him with the people, and partially suc¬ 
 ceeded — that is, with the lowest and most ignorant 
 part of the populace. 
 
 An unfortunate circumstance just then occurred 
 which helped to damage the reputation of the Frate. 
 A conspiracy to bring back the Medici was discovered 
 only when Piero was just at the gate. The great gong 
 sounded, and the citizens rushed to arms in time to 
 save Florence. The chief conspirator was found to 
 be the head of the State, the Gonfaloniere, Bernardo 
 del Nero, an old man of seventy-five years. He was 
 executed with the others, and it was thought hard 
 of the Frate not to have interposed his influence to 
 save him, because the old man was not a traitor, as 
 the word was then understood, he having always been 
 a Medician, and only accepted the popular Government 
 as an inevitable thing. Had he been a personal enemy, 
 it is probable Fra Girolamo would have pleaded for 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 57 
 
 him, for his nature was generous; but he was an 
 enemy of the State, an enemy of the cause for which 
 he himself expected to die at no distant day, and he 
 did not think it right to interfere. 
 
 His life was at this time encompassed by intrigues 
 at home and abroad. It took all the powers of his 
 subtle intellect to escape the snares that were laid 
 for him. Still he held on for awhile after the Bull 
 of Excommunication (1497), and went through his 149 
 duties, carrying on a vigorous correspondence, though 
 he must have known his days were counted. The 
 bearer of the Bull was afraid to enter Florence, and 
 sent it from Siena, so great was still the popularity 
 of the Frate. But a surer means of destroying that 
 popularity was being prepared. A Franciscan monk 
 had repeatedly challenged a monk of San Marco, Sa¬ 
 vonarola’s most devoted friend, to a trial by fire. The 
 prior forbid Fra Domenico to take any notice of his 
 adversary. But the Franciscan persisted in denounc¬ 
 ing Savonarola as a son of perdition, a deceiver of 
 the people, &c., and the good Domenico was at last 
 roused to defy him in the name of his superior. He 
 accepted the challenge; he was ready to walk through 
 fire to prove the doctrines and character of his beloved 
 padre true and pure. 
 
 At this juncture the Government changed hands, 
 and a party very hostile to the Frate chiefly composed 
 of Arrabbiati, were in office. They eagerly seized on 
 this opportunity of bringing him into contempt with 
 the populace. They arranged all the preliminaries for 
 the ordeal in the Piazza della Signoria, in front of 
 the Public Palace (Palazzo Yecchio), and published 
 placards inviting any one who chose to enter the lists 
 on either side. There were many frati of San Marco 
 and citizens also, ready to do so — at least they thought 
 so in the moment of enthusiasm, though probably they 
 would have failed at the last. Fra Domenico’s faith, 
 
58 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 however, in God and his pastor was of that simple 
 child-like sort which knows no faltering. At any mo¬ 
 ment he would have walked into the flames at the 
 bidding of his chief. But perhaps, after all, it is 
 easier to play the part of a follower, whose duty is 
 simply to believe and obey, than that of the leader, 
 oppressed by the weight of an awful responsibility. 
 
 There is evidence enough to show that Savonarola 
 had little faith in the ordeal by fire. Yet if he positi¬ 
 vely declined it, ruin awaited him and his party, for 
 the people were wildly excited in expectation of a 
 miracle. He shut himself up in his cell to meditate 
 and pray. He hoped for some accident that would 
 prevent the horrible ordeal, and deliver him from the 
 hands of his enemies. The day came, and solemn pre¬ 
 parations had been made for it by the Signoria. In 
 the great Piazza there had been erected a platform 
 forty feet long and six feet wide. This passage was 
 enclosed between piles of faggots and all sorts of 
 combustible stuff. The two champions were supposed 
 to walk from one end of the platform to the other, 
 side by side, when the pile was in a blaze — that is 
 to say, the champion of truth would so walk, the false 
 one, of course, would be consumed in the transit. 
 Under the colonnade of the Palazzo degli Uffizi, there 
 is a broad, open loggia , with steps leading up to 
 it. This space was divided in two parts by a parti¬ 
 tion, one of which was devoted to the Dominicans, 
 and the other to the Franciscans — the former had 
 erected a little altar in the corner. An immense 
 crowd filled the vast Piazza, while many clung to 
 railings, posts, and roof-tops. The grey-frocked Fran¬ 
 ciscans were early on the ground with Bonsi, the 
 challenger. After some delay, the Dominicans came 
 in sight, robed in white with black mantles, Fra Do¬ 
 menico walking in front in a red-coloured cope, Sa¬ 
 vonarola following, bearing the Host. The procession 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 59 
 
 approached the loggia, chaunting: " Let God arise, and 
 let His enemies be scattered.” 
 
 The apostle, though worn with fasts and vigils and 
 mental turmoil, walked with a firm step and resolute 
 front. Who can guess the state of his mind at that 
 moment? Perhaps his brother’s faith had communi¬ 
 cated itself to him, and he hoped that God would 
 perform a miracle —not for His servant’s sake, but 
 for the sake of the truth. More probably his soul 
 was torn with doubts of his mission, and remorse for 
 having, by his two lofty assumptions, imperilled the 
 good cause he had served so long. Be this as it may, 
 he showed no outward sign of weakness. As he walked 
 with his usual calm dignity up the steps of the log¬ 
 gia, and deposited the sacred elements on the altar, 
 something between a cry and a sob was heard in dif¬ 
 ferent parts of the Piazza. It came from the full hearts 
 of the Piagnoni, who had come armed to defend their 
 prophet should the necessity arise. 
 
 The Dominicans prostrated themselves round the 
 altar in prayer. Fra Domenico never wavered, but 
 the Franciscans took exception to his red cope, which 
 seemed to them to have something Satanic in it. Who 
 could tell what brimstone magic might not be con¬ 
 cealed within its folds ? The good brother offered to 
 take off the objectionable mantle. Would he further 
 oblige them by changing all his clothes with a Fran¬ 
 ciscan? No, that he never would. He was Domini¬ 
 can, and nothing could induce him to don the robes 
 of any other order; but, not to make difficulties, he 
 was willing to change ,his clothes with a brother Do¬ 
 minican. This was done in the Palazzo Yecchio, and 
 then he was marched back between two Franciscans, 
 lest Savonarola should touch his garb and enchant 
 him again. All things were now ready; and Dome¬ 
 nico, grasping his cross, prepared to enter the flames. 
 The Franciscan again objected; he must not take the 
 
60 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 cross lest it should be burned. After some discussion, 
 Savonarola yielded the point; but instead of the cross, 
 he placed the Host in the hands of the champion, 
 and said he would not allow him to enter the fire 
 without such protection. The Franciscans, who were 
 only seeking a pretext to hold back, never having 
 intended anything but to expose Savonarola to doubt 
 and ridicule, were shocked at the idea of carrying the 
 Host into the fire, and got up a theological discussion, 
 which lasted so long that the multitude grew sa¬ 
 vage. Heavy rain began to fall, and in the midst of 
 the confusion and uproar, the Evil Companions, fol¬ 
 lowed by the mob — ferocious at being disappointed 
 in the spectacle of a miracle or a burning — made an 
 onslaught on the loggia to put an end to the dispute 
 with the sword. The Piagnoni were prepared for vio¬ 
 lence, and defended the loggia, till the Signoria sent 
 an armed body to escort the Fratehome. His parti¬ 
 sans also accompanied him to the portal of his con¬ 
 vent, for they mistrusted the Government officials. 
 Salviati, a noble of influence among the Piagnoni , 
 said, when bidding him farewell: "Padre, I am, and 
 always shall be, yours; command me still.” When a 
 great man is bowed down by falsehood, treachery, 
 and ingratitude, there are still some crumbs of con¬ 
 solation in words like those of Salviati. 
 
 On this day Charles VIII died suddenly, and, with 
 him, Savonarola’s only hope of safety. For, though 
 he had more than once met the French King in op¬ 
 position, he was known to have a great esteem for 
 him, and he never would have allowed him to be 
 sacrificed to clerical malice and revenge. 
 
 After the events in the Piazza, Savonarola knew 
 his doom was sealed. Next day he preached a sermon 
 — his last — in his own church, in which he solemnly 
 called God to witness that he had preached nothing 
 but the truth as it was given him from above, and 
 

CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 61 
 
 declared lie was ready to die for the cause to which 
 his life had been consecrated. He then retired to his 
 cell to prepare for the worst. 
 
 Meantime the agitation in the city went on increas¬ 
 ing. The surging crowds of Piagnoni, Arrabbiati, and 
 Compagnacci encountered each other in the streets, 
 and came to blows. The Duomo was crowded with 
 people hoping for the arrival of Fra Girolamo; but, 
 instead of him, his enemy, Fra Mariano, came in, and 
 was about to ascend the pulpit to attack Savonarola, 
 as his custom was, but he was pushed back by the 
 indignant congregation. A demoniacal rage seized 
 the frate, and he rushed to the door and shouted to 
 the mob. ff To San Marco ! To San Marco ! ” — a cry 
 which was quickly caught up by the Evil Companions 
 and all the ruffianism that followed in their wake. 
 The congregation heard these cries, and threw them¬ 
 selves precipitately out of the cathedral, hastening by 
 the shortest routes to the defence of the monastery. 
 Salviati was already there with the aged Yalori and 
 other tried friends. With a few hastily-collected arms, 
 the Piagnoni were hurrying from all parts to throw 
 themselves into the monastery. Neither were the frati 
 inactive. There were among them noblemen and 
 gentlemen who had not forgotten the use of arms, 
 and wielded them bravely on that fatal evening. 
 
 While these preparations were going on in the 
 monastery, the mob, hounded on by the Compagnacci, 
 moved forward, gathering fresh strength and rage, 
 and killing any respectable citizens they met who were 
 suspected of coming from San Marco. Valori was 
 one of those murdered in the streets. The assault on 
 the convent was aided by scaling-ladders procured for 
 the purpose by the Franciscan Brothers . 1 After a 
 
 1 Padre Marchese and professor Aquarone, as well as the old 
 historians, mention this fact. 
 
62 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 long and obstinate resistance, the doors of the church 
 and monastery were fired. In the midst of the burn¬ 
 ing, some of the mob burst in through a subterranean 
 passage which led to the cellars, and they went through 
 the building, devastating all before them. In the 
 church a fearful scene was going on. Savonarola 
 stood on the altar, surrounded by his friends and 
 brothers, during the defence. They were now suffo¬ 
 cating with smoke, and had to break the windows to 
 let in air. One of the defenders was just then carried 
 in dying, and, receiving the Sacrament, breathed his 
 last there on the altar. Savonarola then took the 
 Host in his hands, and ordered them all to follow him 
 to the library, and cease the vain contest. 
 
 Some monks followed him, but many disobeyed 
 his commands, and continued to defend the church 
 desperately. The besieged behaved gallantly, but were 
 finally overcome by the overwhelming numbers from 
 without, whose infernal delight in sacrilege and murder 
 found vent in the most horrible blasphemies. Night 
 began to close in, but the rioting did not cease till 
 eight o’clock, when a body of military, sent by the 
 Government, put a stop to further outrage. 
 
 The officer in command, Andrea de Medici, asked 
 for the prior, saying the Signoria required his pre¬ 
 sence, but guaranteed his safe return to San Marco. 
 Savonarola’s friends proposed taking him away over 
 the garden wall in some way, and he hesitated to 
 accept the offer; but one of the monks, Malatesta, 
 said: " Ought not the good shepherd lay down his life 
 for the sheep ? ” This speech seemed to move Savo¬ 
 narola deeply. After a few minutes’ reflection, he 
 said he ad decided to surrender himself. He then 
 called all the brethren round him in the Greek Li¬ 
 brary, where he returned the keys of the monastery 
 to the assembled community which had elected him. 
 ff Here I must part with you at last, my dearest sons,” 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 63 
 
 he said; " I leave you with tears, for I must now 
 deliver myself into the hands of my enemies. Never¬ 
 theless, I go with joy of heart, with a ready will, 
 hearing everything for the love of Jesus Christ.” 
 
 He confessed to Fra Domenico, the champion of 
 the fire ordeal, and took the Sacrament. Then he 
 blessed and embraced them all, and thanked Mala- 
 testa for having recalled him to a sense of his duty. 
 At the door of the library, he met the Commissioners 
 with a calm dignity, saying: " I expected this, but 
 not so soon.” His frati followed him along the cor¬ 
 ridor, clinging to his mantle, kissing his hands, and 
 imploring to be allowed to follow him, even to the stake. 
 There was then resident in San Marco a young Fra Be¬ 
 nedetto — a poet and miniature painter. He had been 
 one of the gayest and wildest youths in Florence ; but 
 one day a noble lady persuaded him to accompany 
 her to the Duomo to hear the good Padre Girolamo, 
 and he in courtesy could not refuse, though he laughed 
 to scorn the preacher and his disciples. He was struck 
 by the sermon, returned again and again, and finally 
 sought a private interview with the prior, begging to 
 be received into the community of San Marco. Twice 
 he was refused admittance as not yet properly pre¬ 
 pared, but at last he was accepted, after a prolonged 
 trial in the midst of his former associates. rr The old 
 Adam,” however, was hot quite dead in this young 
 man, for he fought like a lion on that terrible even¬ 
 ing, and only laid down his arms when resistance was 
 hopeless. The love he bore to his superior in life, and 
 his fidelity to his memory after his death, is a beauti¬ 
 ful and touching episode in the story of San Marco. 
 
 As Savonarola was about to pass the portal for 
 the last time, and the crowd outside were howling 
 like wild beasts hungry for their prey, Benedetto 
 rushed wildly into the portico, and, clasping the 
 prior’s hand, implored him on his knees to take him 
 
64 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 with him. It was almost too much for the poor Frate. 
 With trembling hands he raised the youth, pressed 
 him to his breast in silence, and then pushed him 
 away. The next moment he had passed out into the 
 Piazza with the Commissioners, and the furious cries 
 of the mob at the sight of him told Benedetto what 
 he might expect. He fell against a pillar, \ sobbing 
 convulsively. 
 
 Two other monks were taken from San Marco, Sa¬ 
 vonarola’s two dearest friends and fellow-workers — 
 Fra Domenico and Fra Silvestro. Fra Domenico, we 
 already know; he was the champion of the ordeal, 
 and few words will suffice to describe his less admi¬ 
 rable brother. Silvestro was a nervous, imaginative, 
 dreamy man, given to somnambulism, and to seeing 
 visions while in that state, which fact made Savona¬ 
 rola give more weight to his opinions than his intel¬ 
 lect warranted. He was sincerely religious and deeply 
 attached to his superior. He was not a brave man, 
 and during the fight he had hidden himself in a cellar, 
 where, some say, he was unearthed by Malatesta, who 
 seems to have had a taste for making martyrs, though 
 not disposed to be one himself. It is only fair to say 
 that some trustworthy writers assert that Silvestro, 
 repenting of his want of spirit, went and surrendered 
 himself to the Government. 
 
 The transit of the unhappy Frate from one end of 
 the city to the other amid the brutal insults of the 
 mob — who cursed him, spat upon him, kicked and 
 beat him, in spite of the drawn swords of Andrea de 
 Medici and the other Commissioners, who endeavoured 
 to protect him as well as they could — must have 
 been a martyrdom greater than actual death. It was 
 for those in grates he had lived, laboured, and was 
 about to die! 
 
 He was put under examination that night, half 
 dead as he was, and the following day he was before 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 65 
 
 the tribunal for seven or eight hours. He declared 
 he had never preached anything but the will of God 
 as he believed it to be revealed to him; that he had 
 never deceived the people, and denied categorically 
 all the charges over and over again. At last his pa¬ 
 tience gave way, and he exclaimed : " You tempt God 
 with your unreasonable questionings ! ” The magi¬ 
 strates elected to try him were all enemies, and one 
 of them was Dolfo Spini, the leader of the Evil Com¬ 
 panions. On the first day of the examination, before 
 Savonarola was put to the torture, one of the judges 
 withdrew from the trial, saying he would not have 
 his children’s name stained with the blood of a just 
 man. The examination continued for eleven days, and 
 was enough to turn the brain of an ordinary man, 
 without the addition of bodily torture; but that was 
 not spared. He was of an extremely delicate, sensi¬ 
 tive fibre, and his tormentors said they never saw 
 any one on whom it had such a sudden and extra¬ 
 ordinary effect. His biographer, Perugino, says:* They 
 put him to the torture repeatedly the same day, and, 
 being very weak and of an extremely sensitive frame, 
 he was quite broken; he lost the light of reason, and 
 spoke things contrary to sense.” Nardi, another con¬ 
 temporary writer, says, that while under torture, he 
 confessed being a false prophet and a deceiver of the 
 people; but the moment he was released, he retracted 
 the confession, and declared he had always preached 
 the truth; if he said otherwise, it was because the 
 torments rendered him delirious. 
 
 " ’Twere long to tell and sad to trace ” the whole 
 trial of Savonarola. It is painful beyond description 
 to read it, not only for the physical sufferings en¬ 
 dured by him, though they were terrible — an eye-wit¬ 
 ness reported that he was suspended on the rope 
 fourteen times in the course of one day! — but it is 
 doubly painful to see a great man whom we love and 
 
66 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 admire become less than himself — to read the humi¬ 
 liating confessions, retractions, contradictions. Yet 
 even at his lowest Savonarola was still great. During 
 all those long days of harrowing examination, part 
 of the time delirious, he never compromised a friend, 
 never betrayed a political secret. He knew how to 
 baffle his judges by ambiguous replies, and when they 
 could wring nothing out of him, they applied the rope. 
 The reader of the trial will know this by the wild, 
 incoherent replies, even without looking at the mar¬ 
 ginal notes, " Torture — Tortured which occur fre¬ 
 quently. It was only on the subject of prophecy that 
 he confessed himself false — that concerned himself 
 alone, and would not hurt the consciences nor the 
 liberties of others. 
 
 Another hideous blot on the name of the Floren¬ 
 tine Government remains to be revealed. The true 
 confession of Savonarola was not such as would serve 
 their purpose with the public in Florence, or with the 
 world in general. Therefore they employed the notary 
 Ser Ceccone, to write a false one, in which the prisoner 
 confesses himself to be actuated by the basest motives. 
 This document was circulated diligently among the 
 people, and read to a commission of San Marco monks 
 in order to disgust them with their superior. It was 
 also read to the two fellow-prisoners of Savonarola, 
 and had a certain effect on the weak-minded Silve- 
 stro, but none upon Domenico. Thirty years after, 
 the real confession was discovered, and the false one 
 removed from the archives. 
 
 IV. 
 
 With Savonarola in their hands, the Florentines 
 thought it a good opportunity of making their peace 
 with the Holy See. It was Easter time, and they 
 
CHAPTEE III. — SAVONAEOLA. 
 
 67 
 
 wanted to confess and be absolved. Alexander VI 
 graciously accepted their repentance, and sent a ge¬ 
 neral absolution to Florence, which included homi¬ 
 cides. But there was a condition attached to the 
 Pope’s pardon — the surrender of the arch-offender 
 Fra Girolamo into his hands. The Signoria demurred, 
 because the prisoner might reveal too much of Flo¬ 
 rentine affairs, an<J they begged His Holiness to let 
 them deal with the heretic as they might think fit. 
 On this subject there was much difference of opinion. 
 One of the judges suggested a strange punishment for 
 a " heretic, traitor, deceiver,” etc. — that he should 
 be shut up in a safe fortress, comfortably lodged, with 
 a good library at his, command, and writing mate¬ 
 rials, in which, case he would compose " books of 
 rarest quality for the honour of religion and the be¬ 
 nefit of posterity.” But another judge replied with 
 the fatal words: " Dead men make no war.” 
 
 While reposing his disjointed bones during the 
 twenty days that the Papal Commissioners were 
 waited for, Savonarola read a good deal, and finished 
 his tract Buies for a Christian Life. His voice and 
 presence had not lost their magic power, for he con¬ 
 verted his jailor, a man of bad life, by reading pas¬ 
 sages from his little work. He also wrote An Expo¬ 
 sition of Psalm LI, an outpouring of the sorrows of 
 his soul in a torrent of fervid, poetic language, which 
 it is impossible to read without a thrill of deep sym¬ 
 pathy. We here transcribe a few lines. 
 
 " Be pitiful to me, 0 Lord, not according to the 
 mercy of man, which is small, but according to Thine, 
 which is great, immense, incomprehensible — which 
 exceeds the immensity of our sins. Have mercy upon 
 me, 0 Lord, not according to Thy small mercy, for 
 Thy mercy is small when it relieves and liberates 
 men from bodily miseries ; but it is great when Thou 
 pardonest sin, and raisest men above the level of the 
 
68 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 earth. So, Lord, have mercy on me according to Thy 
 great mercy.... St. Peter denied, and with oath dis¬ 
 owned, Thee. Thou didst look upon him, and he 
 wept, and Thou didst pardon him, and confirm him 
 prince of the Apostles.... The thief on the cross 
 with one sole word was saved. Paul, called in the 
 heat of his persecution, was filled with the Holy Spirit. 
 These are among Thy mercies, 0 Lord. Then accord¬ 
 ing to the multitude of Thy mercies, cancel my ini¬ 
 quity, and cleanse my heart, so that it may he purged 
 from every impurity. Let it become as a white sheet, 
 on which the finger of the Lord may write the law 
 of His charity, in which no sin may ever more dwell. 
 I come to Thee, 0 Lord, not as the Pharisee, but as 
 the publican, because I know my iniquity. I come to 
 Thee, 0 Lord, weighted with sin, and I wear myself 
 day and night with the moaning of my heart. 1 ” 
 
 While perusing these lines, the reader almost sees 
 the interior of the condemned cell, with the wasted 
 form of the prisoner seated on the pallet, almost 
 feels the hot tears that fall on the paper, blurring 
 the delicate, minute penmanship — almost hears the 
 low sob of anguish that breaks from his pallid lips. 
 
 But while we record the suffering of the master, 
 it would be unjust not to mention those of his faithful 
 disciples: 
 
 They who had loved him, followed him, fought for him; 
 
 Lived in his mild and magnificent eye; 
 
 Caught his clear accents; learned his great language; 
 
 Made him their pattern to live or to die. 
 
 Fra Silvestro, as we have seen, was a man of small 
 courage, weak and nervous; the more his merit for 
 what he endured before he cried out, like Savonarola, 
 
 1 This work has been translated into German, but not into 
 English, as far as we know. Long extracts from it are to be 
 found in professor Aquarone’s admirable and most impartial Life 
 of Savonarola. 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 69 
 
 " I will confess.” And even in that confession he bore 
 witness to bis master’s virtues, as if involuntarily. 
 This document was also falsified by the secretary. 
 Fra Domenico was allowed to write his own confes¬ 
 sions. The reason for this does not appear, but it 
 prevented the possibility of their being garbled; and 
 so this heroic monk’s honour has remained unassailed, 
 because untarnishable. He was tortured to a greater 
 excess than Savonarola, being of a stronger fibre, and 
 better able to support the pains. He alone of all the 
 three was put upon the rack. It was to make him 
 confess the private vices of his superior, to acknow¬ 
 ledge that he was a hypocrite. But the man who 
 would have walked into the fire to prove him a true 
 prophet was not likely to invent calumnies of his hero, 
 even in that awful hour. With a matchless constancy, 
 he persisted in bearing testimony to the spotless pu¬ 
 rity of the friar’s life, as well as his innocence of all 
 the charges brought against him. There is hardly 
 such another example of friendship on record as this 
 of the San Marco friar, and the man must have been 
 rare indeed who inspired it. Savonarola, who had 
 borne false witness against himself, could not have 
 reproached him if he had yielded to the instincts of 
 exhausted nature and "confessed.”— rt Greater love hath 
 no man than this, that he lay down his life for his 
 friend.” And it would have been ten times easier 
 to go to the scaffold, than day after day to face 
 those cruel, remorseless judges, with the cord and 
 rack ever at their side. But Fra Domenico pre¬ 
 sented the sublime spectacle of suffering — not to 
 save the life of his friend, but his honour, which he 
 himself had surrendered under similar inflictions. 
 He was firm to the end; and at the last, when the 
 Papal Commissioners had almost extinguished the 
 little life the Signoria had left in this strong man, 
 the brave soul still spoke in its simple truth: ff I 
 
70 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 have told all I remember as though I had now 
 to die, the which may easily come to pass if you 
 torture me, because I am all broken. I have my two 
 arms destroyed, particularly the left, which has been 
 twice broken. Thus I pray you be clement, and be¬ 
 lieve the truth of my simple writing.” The judges 
 pressed him more fiercely, and he replied: " I know 
 nothing more, as 1 was always occupied with trying 
 to live rightly, and thinking of Jesus Christ, King of 
 Florence. So, then this second cord, if not believing 
 me, you choose to give it; you shall find nothing 
 more in me, for there is nothing, and you will put 
 me in peril of my life.” It was done; and when he 
 was taken down the pen was put once more in his 
 hand, and he traced in trembling characters the last 
 words of his confession: " The will of God be done! 
 I never could have, nor ever did have, the slightest 
 suspicion that the Father Girolamo deceived, or was 
 in the smallest point untruthful. More, he appeared 
 to me most upright, and I have always judged him 
 a rare man. And having for him great reverence, 
 I hoped, by his means, to have grace from God to 
 do some good for the souls of men; and holding him 
 to be a man of God, I obeyed him as a subject, with 
 sincere solicitude. Sometimes I have said to the frati, 
 and sometimes to some layman, that if I should know 
 in Father Girolamo the least error or deception, 
 I should unveil and publish it; and I certainly should, 
 for I never could bear any duplicity.” 
 
 Calmly, nay, joyfully, the good fathers prepared for 
 death after the civil sentence was known. The Flo¬ 
 rentines differed a good deal on the subject, but the 
 majority were for death; and, indeed, if they wished 
 to be reconciled to the Holy See, they had no choice 
 but to vote for death. The wide world was all too 
 small to hold two such spirits as Girolamo Savona¬ 
 rola and Koderigo Borgia. 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 71 
 
 One more bitter trial awaited the unhappy Prior 
 of San Marco before the welcome news of death came 
 to release him from the intolerable burden of life. 
 Twenty days after the condemnation by the civil law, 
 the Papal Commissioners arrived, and lie was dragged 
 from his cell to be re-examined by those cruel instru¬ 
 ments of clerical tyranny. Utterly broken in mind 
 and body, he could only repeat what he had always 
 said in his sober senses — that he had worked honestly 
 and consistently for the honour of God and the good 
 of the people; that he had never uttered a prophecy 
 which he did not feel impelled to by a presentiment 
 which he believed to be a warning from. God. What 
 he had confessed under torture was false, and he had 
 retracted it, as he would confess and retract again 
 under similar circumstances, for he knew himself to 
 be -t weak and inconstant under torments.” 
 
 That day the Commissioners could get no good of 
 him, and the following day the examination was re¬ 
 newed. They found the prisoner unusually firm and clear 
 in his answers. He was questioned about not observing 
 the excommunication, and he acknowledged he was 
 wrong, and asked pardon. He was asked if he had always 
 taught the truth, and at this point the Cardinal Romi- 
 lino ordered him to be stripped, and put to the torture. 
 At the sight of the fatal cord, the prisoner’s aspect 
 changed terribly. With almost convulsive agitation, 
 he threw himself on his knees, raised his eyes to 
 heaven, and said: " God, Thou hast called me! I con¬ 
 fess I have denied Christ — that I have said a lie! 
 Florentine gentlemen, be my witnesses that I have 
 denied for fear of the torments. If I must suffer, 
 I will suffer for the truth! That which I preached, 
 I had it from God. God, Thou givest me this po- 
 nance because I have denied Thee, and I merit it! ” 
 By this time they had torn off his gown, and he, 
 showing his left arm hanging dead, continued thus: 
 
72 
 
 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 " I have denied God for fear of these torments! ” 
 When drawn up by the rope, he cried: " Jesus, aid 
 me! This time Thou hast called me! ” But, alas! 
 it was not to be; he was not to take even this thread 
 of comfort to the grave with him. When the quiver¬ 
 ing nerves could bear no more, he said: " Tear me no 
 more; I will tell the truth, certain, certain! ” — " Why 
 have you denied it just now? ” they asked. " Be¬ 
 cause I am a madman, ” he replied. He confessed 
 that he wished to be absolute ruler of Florence, to 
 extend his powers over all the land, to call a general 
 council to depose the Pope, etc. When asked if he 
 wanted to make himself Pope, he answered No; any 
 worthless, debauched priest might be Pope; but to 
 occupy the position he aspired to, required a man of 
 excellent virtues. " Marvel not, ” he said, wearied 
 with their questions, “ marvel not if I have told you 
 few things, for my purposes were few and great.” 
 
 He was condemned as a heretic, schismatic, and 
 persecutor of the Church. The other two were also 
 condemned, though Silvestro was not found guilty of 
 these offences, the Papal Commissioners saying a mi¬ 
 serable frate more or less did not matter. 
 
 Again the prisoner took up his pen, and gave vent 
 to his feelings in the Exposition of another psalm, 
 In te, Domine, speravi , in which we see that he had 
 found peace and comfort. It breaks off in the middle 
 of a period, the Commissioners having deprived him 
 of writing materials. The last night of Savonarola’s 
 life a " comforter “ was let stay all night with him. 
 He begged him for a bit of paper, and wrote a beau¬ 
 tiful prayer for the Communion Service. He then 
 asked, as a great favour, to be let see his brothers, 
 and he was conducted to them. 
 
 It was a moment of intense emotion for all. They 
 sank at his feet for his blessing as of yore, when he 
 was at the pinnacle of his glory. He gently rebuked 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 
 
 73 
 
 Domenico for having requested to be burned alive* 
 and said more severely to Silvestro: rt I hear you wish 
 to defend yourself to the people when on the scaffold. 
 
 I request that you abandon that idea, and follow 
 rather the example of Christ, who not even on the 
 Cross spoke of His innocence.” There was no word 
 of reproach for the false evidence he gave against him 
 at the trial. Savonarola, knowing his own weakness, 
 pitied and pardoned the miserable Silvestro, and 
 comforted him and his companion with hope for the 
 future, and tender words, calling them his carissimi 
 figliuoli. 
 
 When the Padre returned to his cell he felt very 
 much exhausted, and asked for a drink of water. He 
 refused the offer of supper,, saying he had need to 
 strengthen his soul, not his body. He asked his con¬ 
 fessor to let him rest his head on his knee, for he 
 had no bed. Fra Niccolini willingly supported the 
 weary head in that last earthly sleep, which he said 
 was calm and untroubled as an infant’s, a happy smile 
 playing over the worn features, as if he had heavenly 
 visions. As the good father watched him sleeping 
 peacefully through the last few hours of his stormy 
 life, he probably thought that it would he a long time 
 before he would have such another penitent to shrive. 
 
 It was the eve of Ascension Day, May 23 rd 1498. 1498. 
 Early in the morning the prisoners were conducted 
 to the chapel to hear Mass. Savonarola was allowed 
 to take the Communion in his own hands without an 
 officiating priest. He repeated aloud the prayer he 
 had composed the night before. At the foot of the 
 stairs the prisoners were denuded of their mantles 
 and white tunics, making them appear in the Piazza 
 with nothing on hut shirt and drawers. One would 
 have thought that nothing could now move Savonarola. 
 
 He had drunk the bitter cup to the dregs in his exa¬ 
 mination, and after that everything would have seemed 
 
74 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO, 
 
 light. But while a thread of life remained his sensi¬ 
 tive soul quivered under every stab. His pale face 
 flushed at this fresh indignity, then tears rose to his 
 eyes as he caught up the Dominican dress in his arms, 
 and exclaimed: Cf 0 holy habit, how much I desired 
 thee! By the grace of God thou wast conceded to 
 me, and I have preserved thee unsullied even till now. 
 And now I would not leave thee, but thou art taken 
 from me! ” 
 
 In the Piazza opposite the Palazzo Vecchio, where 
 the Trial by Fire had taken place, a scaffold had been 
 erected in the form of a cross, with three iron chains 
 depending from it. Round this the funeral pyre of 
 brushwood and faggots was piled up as on the day of 
 the ordeal. The condemned ones were to be hanged, 
 and then the bodies burned and the ashes thrown 
 into the Arno, lest the Piagnoni should preserve 
 some relics of them. Under the Loggia dei Lanzi 
 sat the Monsignori, the Gonfaloniere of Florence and 
 officers of State. The Piazza was crowded to excess 
 with the vilest of the population, burning with the 
 unreasoning hatred that ignorant, vicious people feel 
 towards those superior to them, and whom they 
 rejoice to see humiliated. The Piagnoni were there, 
 too, their hearts wrung with a double anguish. 
 They had read the falsified confession in which their 
 prophet had declared himself a deceiver, a hypocrite, 
 an impostor! The grief of losing a beloved pastor by 
 a cruel, unjust death was as nothing to the agony of 
 soul caused by a doubt in him. And they could not 
 help doubting, for his name was to the document, in 
 his own small, beautiful characters. But the faith of 
 loyal souls is difficult to destroy; and many declared 
 it to be a trick — as indeed it was — and others that 
 he had lost his reason from excess of torture. 
 
 The prisoners had been re-dressecl in order that 
 the bishop might strip them publicly of their priestly 
 
CHAPTER III. — SAVONAROLA. 75 
 
 garb. In doing so he said to Savonarola: " I thus 
 separate you from the Church Militant and Trium¬ 
 phant.” To which the martyr replied with mild di¬ 
 gnity: " Monsignore, from the Church Militant you 
 may; but not from the Church Triumphant; it does 
 not appertain to your office.” The Commissioners 
 read their condemnation, and told them at the same 
 time that the Pope sent them a plenary indulgence 
 to save them from Purgatory. Then the Gonfaloniere 
 read the civil condemnation, and the three prisoners, 
 accompanied each by a confessor, passed along the 
 platform that ran from the Loggia to the foot of the 
 scaffold. Fra Domenico, who seemed not only resigned 
 but joyous, would have chanted a Te Deum, but his 
 confessor begged him not, as it might rouse the people 
 and cause bloodshed. The Piagnoni were powerless; 
 they would but die in vain if it came to a fight. The 
 first that ascended the scaffold was Silvestro, pale, 
 with eyes full of tears; then Domenico, bold, resolute, 
 cheerful. Lastly the ill-starred prophet, with a calm, 
 unmoved expression. The Piagnoni stood in breath¬ 
 less agitation, expecting him to declare his innocence; 
 but we know from what he had said to Silvestro that 
 he disapproved of such a course. Nevertheless, he 
 put away the hand of the executioner, and turned his 
 eyes on the crowd in silence. A voice cried: K 0 Sa¬ 
 vonarola, now is the time for a miracle; delay no 
 longer!” 
 
 Not a word he spoke. That long look of silent 
 reproach was all the farewell he took of that ungra¬ 
 teful Florence, to whose glory and happiness he had 
 sacrificed his life. 
 
 It is not just, however, to condemn all the Floren¬ 
 tines. The Piagnoni mourned their apostle with the 
 deepest grief. For two hundred years after his death, 
 every returning 23 rd of May was held sacred to his 
 memory. He had no grave, alas! on which to lay 
 
76 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 flowers and wreaths, but they carried them to a little 
 temporary altar, erected on the spot where he died, 
 and to the church, from the pulpit of which he had 
 so often addressed his people. They preserved every¬ 
 thing belonging to him that had not perished in the 
 sack of the convent, with the most religious zeal, in 
 spite of the bitter persecutions with which they were 
 persued. 
 
Chapter IV. 
 
 AFTER SAVONAROLA. 
 
 I. 
 
 The Piagnoni were the Puritans of Italy, and Sa¬ 
 vonarola was their Cromwell. The devotion to duty, 
 the stern heroism, the severity — almost amounting 
 to cruelty — towards the enemy, the spirit of self-sa¬ 
 crifice, the constancy which the Piagnoni displayed, 
 frequently recall the English Puritans to the mind of 
 the reader, with, of course, certain modifications — 
 the result of race. For example: — No Italian, of 
 whatever creed, could have done the work the icono¬ 
 clasts did in the Civil War. His love of art is in¬ 
 born, and he could not perpetrate an act of Van¬ 
 dalism. The most ascetic rigid Piagnone never would 
 have dreamed of despoiling his church of its orna¬ 
 ments. An aesthetic form of worship is a necessity 
 to the Latin race, and the modern evangelising party 
 will make a serious mistake if they do not accom¬ 
 modate their church a little to the sentiments and 
 requirements of the Southern nature. 
 
 The comparison which we have ventured to make 
 between the people will, perhaps, apply equally to the 
 leaders of the two great movements in England and 
 Italy. Cromwell’s force of character, political saga- 
 
78 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 city, genius for ruling, we find also in Savonarola, 
 with the natural difference between a churchman and 
 a soldier. But the Italian, in addition, had the refi¬ 
 nement of high culture — poetry, eloquence, and a 
 winning sweetness of character, which tempered the 
 severity of his principles, and won the love of every 
 one who was admitted to his intimacy. His friends 
 describe him as plain in face, hut with a dignified 
 deportment; an eye brilliant, penetrating, mild, and 
 benevolent; a smile rarely seen, indeed, but with a 
 sad, sweet expression, which touched and interested 
 the beholder. His hair was thick and dark; his form 
 slender; rr his members all so delicate that his hand 
 seemed transparent.” His mode of living from boyhood 
 was of the very simplest, his fasts frequent; his bed 
 was a straw mattress. He was a man of orderly habits, 
 and extremely neat and clean. 
 
 Savonarola’s personal fascination is attested by the 
 wonderful influence he exercised, not on the masses 
 only, but on men of the highest gifts, of uncommon 
 cultivation and strong character, — the men of the 
 Renaissance, whose sympathies were all pagan. Lo¬ 
 renzo with all his adamantine selfishness of heart 
 felt it to a certain degree, and we have many other 
 remarkable instances of his power over men of great 
 intellect. Michel Angelo was a constant attendant of 
 his church when he was still very young, and his 
 teaching left an indelible impression upon him. The 
 greatest artists of the day, Sandro Botticelli, Barto¬ 
 lommeo della Porta, and two of the Robbia, were 
 amongst his ardents converts. Of poets and story¬ 
 tellers not a few abandoned their art, or changed 
 its form under his potent influence. It penetrated 
 into the corrupt Court, and Poliziano, the poet and 
 scholar, who unless he has been much slandered, was 
 one of the wickedest of the Medici’s distinguished 
 company, expressed contrition for his sins and begged 
 
5s* 
 
 V 
 
CHAPTEE IV. — AFTEE SAVONAEOLA. 79 
 
 to be interred in the Church of San Marco, robed 
 in the Dominican habit. 
 
 But Pico, prince of Mirandola, was his most bril¬ 
 liant conquest. There were giants in those clays, and 
 a man should have been very lofty indeed whose in¬ 
 tellectual stature excited much attention. But Pico, 
 taken as a whole, considering the quality and variety 
 of his mental gifts, his exquisite manners, his physical 
 strength and beauty, seems to have been one of the 
 nrost glorious and perfect of created beings. Of his 
 erudition it is only necessary to mention that at 
 eighteen he was acquainted with twenty-two lan¬ 
 guages and their respective literatures. When twenty- 
 six years old, he went to Rome and published a chal¬ 
 lenge offering to dispute nine hundred propositions 
 on different subjects, and no one ventured to accept 
 the challenge; but a charge of heresy was brought 
 against him, and he returned to the more congenial 
 atmosphere of Florence, and became Lorenzo’s friend 
 till death. He lived amongst the brilliant pagan as¬ 
 semblage of poets, philosophers, scholars; but he was 
 not one of them. He was an avowed Christian and 
 a devoted admirer of the Prior of San Marco. It 
 was Pico who arranged the meeting between Savona¬ 
 rola and Lorenzo, and he was in the ante-room during 
 the momentous interview. He had studied theology 
 for years, and had long cherished the intention of 
 entering the Monastery of San Marco. It is impos¬ 
 sible to say what he might not have accomplished had 
 he lived. But alas, at the early age of thirty-five 
 death carried off this splendid specimen of the race, 
 “ so noble in reason, so infinite in faculty, in action 
 so like an angel, in apprehension so like a god.” 
 
 According to his desire, he was robed in the white 
 Dominican habit and laid in his beloved Church of 
 San Marco. 
 
 San Marco reached its culminating glory under Sa- 
 
80 
 
 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 vonarola’s government, and after bis death it declined 
 rapidly. We must now record the darkest chapter in 
 the story of that renowned monastery. Threatened 
 with destruction, as the brothers were, after the tra¬ 
 gedy just recorded; their faith in their prior shaken 
 by the false confession which they were assured were 
 his exact words, they were induced to write a letter 
 to Alexander VI, expressing contrition, and reviling 
 their late abbot as the cause of all their failings. 
 We will not believe that all the community signed 
 this shameful document. The men who had fought 
 on the night of the assault, let us hope they were 
 exceptions. But there were signatures enough to 
 represent the fraternity; and if it was not for the 
 sake of the few loyal spirits that still remained, we 
 would feel little concern for the fate of those recreant 
 monks who licked the dust at Alexander’s feet before 
 Savonarola’s smoking ashes were quenched in the 
 Arno. The leading spirit in this movement was Ma- 
 latesta, who, the reader will remember, was the im¬ 
 mediate cause of Savonarola’s decision to surrender 
 himself, when he said: Cf Ought not the good pastor 
 give his life for the sheep?” —which, though it 
 might possibly be the duty of the pastor, was not at 
 all a becoming suggestion on the part of the sheep. 
 In the same spirit he hunted up the unfortunate Sil- 
 vestro when the officers inquired for him; and when 
 once he had the excuse of Savonarola’s false confes¬ 
 sion to go upon, he denounced him with a ferocity 
 almost incredible, considering that he had professed 
 himself his most devoted friend, and said he was 
 ready to enter the flames to prove his doctrine true. 
 Padre Marchese 1 would have us believe this man a 
 sincere fanatic, always in extremes; but as his fanati¬ 
 cism was always on the winning side, we must call 
 
 1 S tori a cli San Marco. 
 
CHAPTER IV. — AFTER SAVONAROLA. 81 
 
 him a traitor. The document which he drew up and 
 induced his brothers to sign is unexampled for the 
 vileness of its fawning adulation to Alexander, which 
 would have been degrading from any man to any other, 
 be his merits what they might, but which, addressed to 
 the Borgia, we have no language to characterise; its 
 abject meanness is only equalled by its gross vitupera¬ 
 tion. And yet, in trying to defend themselves, the 
 monks are forced to bear high testimony to Savona¬ 
 rola’s virtues. 
 
 " His profound knowledge, his uncontaminated life, 
 his simulated devotion, the conversion of many sinners, 
 the abolition of usury, bad houses, and other immo¬ 
 ralities ; the peace and concord that reigned in the 
 city, the union of souls to God — all these things ef¬ 
 fected by his teaching, won our implicit faith. But 
 at last this infernal dragon,” &c., &c. 
 
 The Pope’s absolution notwithstanding, the com¬ 
 munity of San Marco were persecuted almost to the 
 death. Some fled into banishment; others, not daring 
 to issue out of their convent, would have perished of 
 hunger but for the charity of the Piagnoni citizens, 
 who conveyed them provisions over the garden wall 
 at night. The Piagnona — so the great bell of San 
 Marco was vulgarly called — was sentenced to fifty 
 years exile, and to be whipped out of the city by the 
 hangman. Amongst those who fled Avas Fra Bene¬ 
 detto, his mind darkened by a transitory doubt in the 
 truth of the great teacher at whose feet he had sat 
 so long. But the cloud soon passed, and he returned 
 to his first faith with more fervour than ever. We 
 have before us some sweet‘lines in which the young 
 poet laments the inconstancy of the fraternity and the 
 public in general, and the cruel way they defame the 
 memory of the buon pastore. 
 
 Brave, loyal, warm-hearted soul! Let us honour 
 his memory, — for though he had not the renown of 
 
82 
 
 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 dying on the scaffold, he, too, was a martyr, and 
 suffered a lifelong persecution for his defence of il 
 buon pa.store, and his intemperate attacks on the ene¬ 
 mies of his hero. 1 
 
 II. 
 
 When the storm was over, the banished frati 
 returned to San Marco; they had back their great 
 bell, and they put their monastery in repair. But 
 their reputation? alas! they could not put that in 
 repair. Even the monkish chroniclers have not at¬ 
 tempted to patch it up, and there remains the ugly 
 rent to the present day. San Marco was suppressed 
 in 1866 by the Italian Government, and turned into 
 a museum. The reader who has had the patience to 
 follow the history of its founders in the foregoing 
 pages, would like, perhaps, to have a glance at the 
 interior of the monastery as it now stands. 
 
 The door of the monastery opens into the large 
 Piazza of San Marco. On entering the portico we 
 find a man who takes possession of our umbrellas, 
 and we pass directly into the cool shade of the clois¬ 
 ters, with their lofty colonnades and frescoed walls, 
 deliciously quiet, peaceful, and refreshing after the 
 noise and glare of the piazza. The large square court 
 in the midst, with no roof but the blue vault of heaven, 
 admits light, air, and sunshine enough to make it 
 
 1 We transcribe the lines alluded to above: 
 
 Lo viddi tal cb’al santo contradisse, 
 
 E qual in vita gia lo difendeva; 
 
 D’entrar nel fuoco ancor piii volte disse, 
 Morto ch’el vidde, e qual cosa diceva? 
 Ei ci ingannava, ed e stato ribaldo, 
 
 E come lupo il buon pastor mordeva! 
 Quasi nessun rimase in fede saldo, 
 
 Ed io ancor alquanto vacillai, 
 
 Ma poco duro il freddo e venne il caldo. 
 

 
CHAPTER IV. — AFTER SAVONAROLA. 83 
 
 always a cheerful and healthful promenade. We look 
 round and see a number of doors on all sides leading 
 to the interior of the building. The four walls are 
 covered from end to end with frescoes, some of the 
 fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, and some of later 
 date. The first wall has the story of the founder, 
 St. Antonino, depicted upon it, and at the end is a 
 fine Crucifixion, with St. Dominick embracing the 
 Cross. The face of Christ has an expression of divine 
 calm which seems to triumph over mortal pain — an 
 expression which Fra Angelico only knew how to give. 
 Over the first door St. Peter the Martyr stands 
 with his finger to his lips to denote that silence is 
 the rule of the Order. This saint has a finely-cut 
 head, but a stern, menacing expression of counte¬ 
 nance, and a cold, relentless eye, which repels at the 
 first glance, even if one did not know the story of his 
 absurd pretensions to martyrdom. He was stabbed 
 through the heart one evening passing through a 
 wood, by the friends of those whom he had given to 
 the Inquisition — a light punishment for the ills he 
 inflicted on others. 
 
 Over the other doors there are appropriate fre¬ 
 scoes by Fra Angelico. One is St. Dominick; another, 
 Christ rising out of the Sepulchre; a third represents 
 Our Saviour disguised as a Pilgrim, seeking hospi¬ 
 tality, welcomed by two Dominican monks. A pas¬ 
 sage opens into the small refectory, with one grand 
 fresco: The Cenaculum, by Ghirlandajo; another door 
 from the cloisters leads to the large refectory, also 
 adorned by one immense fresco : The Brethren at 
 table receiving food from the Angels. 1 On the other 
 side of the cloisters we enter the spacious chapter- 
 hall, where we find ourselves in front of Fra Ange- 
 
 1 Called * La Provvidenza ” : authorship disputed between 
 Bartolommeo and Sogliani. 
 
84 
 
 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MARCO. 
 
 lico’s most perfect and most characteristic work. In 
 it he surpasses himself in the exquisite delicacy of 
 touch and brilliancy of colouring, which he owed to 
 his long practice as illuminator, and which makes his 
 frescoes look like enlarged miniature paintings; and 
 in it he allowed unfettered scope to his imagination. 
 Instead of representing a place of execution histori¬ 
 cally correct, with Roman soldiers, cavalry, and in¬ 
 fantry, fierce, half-naked executioners, scoffers, blas¬ 
 phemers, and all the ruffianism which usually attend 
 such scenes in real life, 11 JBeato, following the dictates 
 of his profoundly religious nature, painted a Calvary 
 all his own, peopled by saints, taken promiscuously 
 from all ages and countries. It offended Macaulay’s 
 taste to see a cowled head at the foot of the Cross; 
 the historic English mind could not bear such a gross 
 anachronism — such a violation of literal truth. But 
 to the mystic painter it was not a literal, but an 
 allegorical representation, meant to edify, suggest, and 
 instruct. " Nqver have I seen,” says Padre Marchese, 
 " so sublime a conception worked out with such slen¬ 
 der means; others may surpass him in design and 
 form, but no one can put in the breast of another 
 man such a thrill of pious awe and grief.” 
 
 It is a vast picture of 32 hands in width, and little 
 less in height. The figures on the cross are nude, and 
 here Angelico’s weak point is visibile, particularly in 
 the forms of the two thieves, that of Christ being more 
 natural and expressive. But the face of the dying 
 Lord, turned slightly towards the penitent, to whom 
 He has just spoken the words of comfort, is beautiful, 
 with a beauty not of earth. The penitent, looking 
 upon it, has caught some of its holy resignation. The 
 other malefactor’s face is hideous and distorted, 
 his mouth open uttering blasphemies. Behind the 
 figures on the cross there is visible a glowing, blood- 
 red cloud, such as is common in Italian sunsets; for 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 ✓ 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER IV. — AFTER SAVONAROLA. 85 
 
 the day is far spent, the Sacrifice is almost accom¬ 
 plished. 
 
 By the Cross, her station keeping, 
 
 Stood the mournful mother weeping. 
 
 But as the agony is drawing to a close, her strength 
 gives way, and she sinks forward, caught in the arms 
 of St. John and some female saints. Mary Magdalen 
 starts forward to aid her, and behind her stands John 
 the Baptist pointing to the Saviour, whose coming he 
 had foretold. St. Mark, kneeling, holds the Evangels 
 in his hand. Then comes St. Lawrence in a brilliant 
 robe and the gridiron on which he was roasted; behind 
 him St. Cosmus and St. Damian, patrons of the Me¬ 
 dici. On the other side of the Cross are many saints; 
 first of all St. Dominick in a blue habit kneels with 
 outspread hand and upturned eyes; St. Augustine 
 with a pen and a book gazes at the Cross as if seeking 
 from thence his inspiration; St. Albert robed as a 
 bishop, and St. Jerome kneeling with his cardinal’s 
 hat lying beside him; St. Benedict and St. Romuald 
 are standing ; and in front of them kneels St. Francis 
 in a gray habit with the Stigmata on hands and feet; 
 St. Bernard with his book is kneeling, and St. Grual- 
 bert, the interesting founder of Yallombrosa Mona¬ 
 stery, is standing; St. Peter Martyr, who always ap¬ 
 pears with a bleeding head and dagger or knife 
 upon his shoulder, with which he was despatched, has 
 a ripellant aspect even on his knees; behind him 
 stands the last figure of the group, St. Thomas Aqui¬ 
 nas, a spiritual and intellectual face. There are in 
 all twenty-two figures; and the whole forms a har¬ 
 monious and lovely composition. 
 
 We now ascend the broad staircase worthy of a 
 palace, and enter the library, which is the glory of 
 San Marco. It is lined from end to end with the old 
 parchment volumes of the Renaissance times. Down 
 
86 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 the centre of the hall, between the two rows of Doric 
 columns, there runs a table with a double file of 
 brass-bound volumes of the Gospels and choral books, 
 beautifully illuminated, many of them by Fra Ange¬ 
 lico’s brother. This exquisite art was brought to a 
 pitch of perfection by the brothers of Mugello. Beyond 
 this apartment there is another, called the Greek Li¬ 
 brary, where Savonarola took his last farewell of 
 his flock. 
 
 As we arrive at the top of the stairs leading to the 
 cells, the eye is arrested by a fresco on the opposite 
 wall of the corridor representing the Annunciation. 
 Mary is seated under the portico of her house, outside 
 of which there is a garden hedge and gate. She wears 
 a gown of pale red, and a blue mantle folded over 
 her knees. Her blond hair falls loosely on her neck, 
 her delicate hands are folded on her bosom, and her 
 head bent in an attitude of reverence and submission. 
 The angel, a radiant figure, just in the act of folding 
 his wings, hardly seems to touch the earth on which 
 he has alighted. The attitudes, the expression, the 
 colouring — all proclaim this graceful picture to be 
 from the hand of the JBeato. Everywhere fresh beau¬ 
 ties meet the eye, but too numerous for mention. Fra 
 Angelico painted frescoes in forty cells, representing 
 the history of our Lord from nativity to death, and 
 also the history of the Virgin. In the cell occupied 
 by Cosmo de Medici he painted a lovely representa¬ 
 tion of the Adoration of the Magi, in which it would 
 appear that he had taken some hints from the new 
 school and improved his defects, without, however, 
 losing any of his own peculiar charms. The beauty 
 of the infant Jesus and the Madonna was all his own, 
 while the manly forms of the kings and the atten¬ 
 dants were worthy of a first-class modern painter, 
 says Marchese. One of the servants is shading his 
 eyes with his hand, and gazing up at the star which 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER IV. — AFTER SAVONAROLA. 87 
 
 has stopped over the Infant’s habitation. This fresco 
 was greatly injured, and has been restored. 
 
 In one of the cells there is a bust and portrait of 
 St. Antonino, and a large glass case containing his 
 archiepiscopal robes. We wander on from cell to 
 cell admiring the works of the Beato, till we have a 
 confused blending of delicate rainbow tints before our 
 mind’s eye, and Madonnas innumerable — Madonnas 
 in dark blue mantles starred with silver, in sky blue 
 mantles, in white robes, ascending to heaven, seated 
 on a soft pink or golden cloud, or enthroned on high, 
 receiving the crown of glory in the midst of a host 
 of angels. 
 
 Arrived at the far end of the corridor, an open 
 door, with two steps up to it, invites us to enter, 
 and we find ourselves in a small, frescoed ante-room. 
 To the right is a bronze bust with an inscription on 
 the pedestal, and opposite the door there is a broad 
 slab of white marble, also surmounted by a bust of 
 the same remarkable head and covered with figures 
 in bass-relief. They represent a crowd of antique 
 Florentines listening attentively to a Dominican monk, 
 who holds in one hand a scroll, while the other is 
 raised in solemn address. We draw near, and read 
 the inscription: — A Frate Girolamo Savonarola , con¬ 
 template cittadino, oratore operoso , forte al patire; 
 molti Italiani, quattro secoli quasi dopo la morte sua, 
 p. MDCCCLXXIII. 
 
 We enter the inner room, also a very small one, 
 which served the Prior of San Marco as a study. It 
 is furnished with memorials of the illustrious dead. 
 In a glass-case fastened to the wall is the hair belt 
 which the ascetic father frequently wore, and other 
 small belongings. By the wall beside the little win¬ 
 dow is a desk of dark polished wood, modelled on 
 the antique with little drawers and presses in it. 
 Underneath the glass front are open parchment vo- 
 
88 
 
 THE MONASTERY OE SAN MAROO. 
 
 lumes, yellow with age. The broad margins, especially 
 that of the Bible, are covered so closely with com¬ 
 mentaries in a microscopic hand that there is hardly 
 room for a pin’s head between the lines. There is 
 still another inner cell, about the size^of a dressing- 
 closet, where the great Frate slept. On the wall here 
 there- is a copy of an interesting old picture, the ori¬ 
 ginal of which is in the Palazzo Corsini, representing 
 the last act in the drama in which he played so 
 conspicuous a part. There is the Palazzo Yecchio 
 lifting its lofty tower to the sky; the Loggia dei Lanzi, 
 where are seated the ecclesiastical judges; there is 
 the crowded Piazza; the funeral pyre, from which 
 the flames begin to mount; while above, on the high 
 platform at the foot of the gallows are the half-naked, 
 shadowy forms of the three doomed ones. We turn 
 from this sad picture, and re-enter the study. It was 
 here he read, and wrote, and thought, and schemed. 
 In the lonely hours of the night, when the frati were 
 slumbering peacefully, his busy brain was at work on 
 the great problems of life. This little room seems 
 charged with memories of him. While gazing at the 
 writing in the margin of the Bible, we raise our eyes, 
 and behold! there is the Frate looking down from the 
 wall with that penetrating, yet mild glance, which 
 seems as if he knew human nature, and yet pitied it. 
 It is the portrait painted by Fra Bartolommeo. 
 
 We take it for granted that the traveller has been 
 touched by the Story of San Marco; what person 
 with a soul would not feel it? M. r Howells, who re¬ 
 gards Savonarola as a " strange and frenzied apostle 
 of the Impossible,” confesses to standing before 
 San Marco with a swelling heart. The traveller then, 
 who has entered into the spirit of the place, will do 
 as he did: he will seek out with devout reverence 
 every spot about Florence which has been associated 
 with the great man. He will visit the Villa Careggi 
 


 
 SL 
 
 
 
 
CHAPTEE IY. — AFTEE SAVONAEOLA. 89 
 
 and look with interest at the portraits of the old 
 Florentines on the walls; he will meditate by the 
 splendid state bed where the holiest man in Florence 
 stood by the most distinguished sinner of his age 
 and exhorted him to repentance, when the gran pec- 
 catore, still a slave to his master passion, turned his 
 face to the wall. He will visit the Sola del Cinque- 
 cento where the reformer held his parliaments, now 
 presided over by his marble statue; he will climb 
 the lofty tower to the top flight to stand for a mi¬ 
 nute within the narrow cell where the prisoner passed 
 his last twenty days on earth; he will look with a 
 new interest on the Piazza where he was martyred, 
 and think with a vague regret that his ashes are not 
 enshrined in some sacred spot. 
 
 Savonarola was not more misunderstood by his 
 own and following generations than is generally the 
 fate of original men. What the great man is most 
 to be pitied for is his isolation of soul . Even his 
 followers who love, who adore him, cannot sympathize 
 with all his moods, because they stand on a lower 
 range of thought and feeling. 
 
 The solemn peaks but to the stars are known ; 
 
 But to the stars and the cold lunar beams. 
 
 Alone the sun arises, and alone 
 Spring the great streams. 
 
 How can we then profess to read his heart, we who 
 see him dimly through the mist of ages now, and 
 could have but imperfectly comprehended him had 
 we been privileged to sit at his feet in San Marco? 
 
 This great soul failed, it is said, because his aims 
 were too lofty, his standard too high. But was it 
 really because his standard was to high or his age 
 too low instead ? St. Paul’s standard was too high 
 for the bulk of his countrymen; and those who 
 abstained from persecuting him, doubtless, called him 
 an impracticable person, a visionary, an enthusiast. 
 
90 THE MONASTERY OF SAN MARCO. 
 
 But their indifference or antagonism did not make 
 him relax his lofty code of morality, or abate one 
 jot of his Master’s claims. When a great man is 
 sent into the world on a special mission he cannot 
 temporize; he must deliver his message if the peace of 
 the whole earth is to be disturbed by it. And Savo¬ 
 narola was inspired by the passion which the author 
 of Ecce Homo calls the Enthusiasm of Humanity, 
 but what St. Paul would have called the Holy Spirit, 
 called by whatever name it means one and the same 
 thing; and he only fulfilled his destiny in trying to 
 hurst the bonds which fettered the souls of men and 
 lead them into a purer and higher atmosphere. Where 
 he failed the fault was theirs; in as much as he 
 succeeded the glory was his. We will say then, as 
 Carlyle does of Knox: " Let us praise the hero-priest 
 who wears out in toil and calumny and contradiction 
 a noble life to make God’s Kingdom of this earth. 
 The earth will not become too godlike.” 
 
 THE END. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Chapter I. — St. Antonino.Page 9 
 
 » IT. — Fra Angelico.19 
 
 » III. — Savonarola.24 
 
 » IV. — After Savonarola.77