UC-NRLF. $B 513 2Tt. WORLD'S EPOCHMAKeRS, by (jEorg!:: AV Hardx dd. REESE LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. THE WORLD'S EPOCH-MAKERS EDITED BY OLIPHANT SMEATON Savonarola By Rev. George M'Hardy, D.D. Previous Volumes in this Series; — CRANMER AND THE ENGLISH REFORMATION. By A. D. Innes, M.A. WESLEY AND METHODISM. By F. J. Snell, M.A. LUTHER AND THE GERMAN REFORMATION. By Prof. T. M. Lindsay, D.D. BUDDHA AND BUDDHISM. By Arthur Lillie, M.A. WILLIAM HERSCHEL AND HIS WORK. By James Sime, M.A., F.R.S.E. FRANCIS AND DOMINIC. By Prof. J. Herkless, D.D. For Complete List see End. THE WORLD'S EPOCH-MAKERS Savonarola By Rev. George M'Hardy, D.D. New York. Charles Scribner's Sons 1901 HtSSE ^V 'S V PREFACE One of the Popes — Pius vii. — is reported to have said that when he got to heaven he should begin by asking whethe r Savonarola was a sai nt or a schismat ic, a prophet or a charlatan. That was long a keenly de- bated question, and for generations the controversies waged over it had an absorbing attraction for many minds. Those controversies have in large measure subsided, yet the life-story out of which they sprang possesses a singular fascination still, owing partly to its dramatic surprises and the picturesque impressive- ness of its outstanding incidents, and partly also to the momentous character of the movements and^jchan^jes __i___ it belongs. iT'llils" volume^ an atteni^l 'W hiM^ 10 Qusbmbe the figure which the great Dominican presented in his day and the work he strove to accomplish, as well as to indicate the place in history which may reasonably be claimed for him; and in performing this task my endeavour has been to introduce such touches of local colouring as may aid the reader in realising the scenes depicted. For the facts of Savonarola's career I have drawn chiefly from the following sources : — Villari's Life and Times of Girolamo Savonarola, Madden's Life and vi PREFACE Martyrdom of Girolamo Savonarola, Clark's Savon- arola, his Life and Times, Dr. Creighton's History of the Papacy, Harford's Life of Michael Angelo Buonarotti, with Memoirs of Savonarola, Raphael, and Vittoria Colonna, Mrs. Oliphant's Makers of Florence, Milman's Savonarola, Erasmus, and Other Essays, Frederick Myers' Lectures on Great Men, George Eliot's Romola, and a brilliant sketch in R. A. Vaughan's Essays and Remains. Professor Yillari's work, which stands first in this list, contains a full and exceedingly valuable store of information, skilfully arranged and used with admirable effect ; and it would be impossible to write on Savonarola without being laid under large obliga- tions to that book. I must acknowledge my indebted- ness to it, particularly for many of the quotations from speeches and sermons which are given in the course of the narrative. I have also been indebted to two writers who have treated the subject from the distinctively Roman Cath- olic point of view. One is Dr. Pastor, of the University of Innsbruck, who, in his History of the Popes, presents a lifelike record of the Florentine friar and of the circumstances of the times in which he moved. The other is Father Lucas, whose Fra Girolamo Savonarola brings together a rich collection of contemporary docu- mentary evidence bearing on the relations of parties, the political and ppnlp^^inf^t^'fiaJi iTitri^mp^q, fl.nd-thn cor- th p.Pflpf ^,] C^"^^^ °^ Rnip^ Both these writers, while displaying a frank appreciation of the sincerity of Savonarola's intentions and the good service he rendered to morality and religion, yet condemn him severely for the stand he took in opposition to the demands of the PREFACE vii Holy See ; and in order to avoid exaggeration or one- sidedness of statement on this and similar points, I have sought to weigh as carefully as possible the arguments they advance. With regard to the various characters and events, and the aspects of society and religion, which come into view in dealing with the main subject, other works of reference have been consulted, such as Gregorovius' History of Rome in the Middle Ages, Hallam's State of Europe during the Middle Ages, Milman's Latin Christianity, Roscoe's Life of Lorenzo de Medici, E. G. Gardner's Story of Florence, besides articles in the leading Biographical Dictionaries and Encyclo- paedias. If this book can help to deepen interest in a memor- able and eventful historic drama, and in the extra- ordinary man who played in it so striking and, towards the close, so pathetic a part, it will have served the purpose for which it was written. GEORGE M'HARDY. Kirkcaldy, March 1901. CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE t^THE Age and the Man ..... 1 iXl. Boyhood, EDrcATiON, and Eakly Mental Struggles 10 III. Monastic Life at Bologna [ytY. Florence, San Marco, and Lorenzo de Medici i/V. The Leap into Fame .... I^L Florence again — The Mission Found, and the Sphere ...... VIL The Monk and the Magnifico tAin. Changes and Prophecies of Change . IX. Preparing for the Flood . . . \X. Amid the Throes of Revolution XI. Charles VIII. in Florence V^II. The Preacher as Lawgiver . \Alll. The Dream of a Theocracy . (/5CIV. The Burdens and Perils of Power . XY. The Hand of the Pope. XVI. The Uncompromising Witness . XVII. The Pyramid of Vanities XVIII. The Sentence of Excommunication . XIX. Six Months of Silence 21 28 36 42 52 61 69 78 90 95 108 123 134 143 154 162 175 CONTENTS CHAP. XX. The Pope Defied XXI. Gatherino Teoubles XXII. The Ordeal by Fire XXIII. The Bursting of the Storm XXIV. The Tragic Close UtXV. Review . PAGE 187 200 208 224 242 261 SAYONAROLA CHAPTER I The Age and the Man The fift eenth cent ury is remarkable as the period in which we can watch the spect acle of the modengrjvorld st rugglin g into birth. Som e^oi the f orces which had been working through the long course of the Middle Ages were be coming exhaus ted ; some were producing their inev itable reacti ons : some were expanding in power, bursting their old limits, and assuming more advanced forms ; new forces altogether were coming into play. The in tellectual, poli tical, moral, and re- lipjous life of Europe was manifesily^reparin^ for a fresl ^ stage of devel opment. The f eudal sy stem was breaking up, and great changes were transpiring in the organisation of states and nations. C ommerc e was striking out into new fields, and the co mmercial classes were ri sing t o prominence in society. Art was spr ing- ing into unwo nted activi ty, and in paintmg, sculpture, and architecture exhibiting amazing richness and beauty in its creations. On every side thought w^as stirring; the range of interests was widening; there 2 SAVONAROLA was a growing de votion to lit erature, and the inven- tion of printing came jusi iii ivkk to multiply the books that were wanted and to meet the PTa vinp- fo r kgwledge which had been awakened. The human mind was in a ferment of unrest, throwing off the bondage of old customs and traditional ideas, and vaguely straining after larger and freer scope for its , native instincts and energies. In short, a movement I was in progress destined to affect the whole future \history of the Western world. That movement, so familiarly known as the Renais- sance, had been going on for several generations, but by the middle of the fifteenth century it had become a potent and pervasive influence. Its centre was in the great cities of Italy. There, for many years past, a re v^ived passion for lea rning had arisen, and princes and nobles vied with each other in their patronage of intellectual and artistic genius. O reel ^^^sc holar^ ^had visited Italy, bringing with them the manuscripts of ijfieir own ancient classics, and they had been warmly welcomed at the universities and the courts of the great. Italian students and students from other lands gathered round them, eager to share the culture to be derived from the literary treasures which they pos- sessed. The number of those disseminators of ancient Grecian lore was immensely increased when, in 1453, the capture of Co nstantin ople by the Turks drove m any of the lea rned me n of that city to seek refug e in the land which was so ready to rece ive them as teachers. The result was a marvellous qui ckeni ng of intell ectual j ictivity. Men broke away from the narrow and formal subtleties of the scholastic philo- sophy, and from the hard dogmatism of the scholastic THE AGE AND THE MAN 3 theology, which, enforced by the august authority of the Ro man Catholic Ch nro.h^ ha d for a^es rei gned su i^rern dT' It became the fashion in all sections of society, from the highest to the lowest, to be scholars and students of the New Learning. The freer ideas, the fresher and more natural views of life, drawn from the literature of pagan Greece, exerted an irresistible charm. A „new philosophy of life b egan to bel advocated and^afiifid— upilli. Hitherto, through the i overwhelming do minance of the Churchy sp eculation and learning^ had (jiealt with qu estions main ly of mys tical an d tbeolo p ^ical interest ; and the shadow of the supernatural and the unseen hovered over men in all their thinking and conduct. Now liberty was claimed on behalf of the natural enjoyments of man, and on behalf of the free exercise of all man's natural faculties and energies. This was what has been designated the Humanist factor in the Renaissance. It was a protest against the spirit of the centuries that had been lived*"'OirougKran^the bepnnin g_o f a! new attitude towards the world and the secular side! of life generally, and an insistence on a r^ew con- ception^ of man's place and range of action amid the world's interests" and affairs. The ancient classics were held up as the literae humaniores, the literature which nourished the fulness of man's being, and helped man to realise the variety of his own powers and the manifold attractions and uses of the things around him. Necessarily, the tendency of such a movement was rationalistic and sceptical. It generated a c ritical an d inc miring tem per, a disposition to questioaJJaa-^ounds of esiablished laws, traditions, and beliefs. But it led 4 SAVONAROLA to no active crusade, no strenuous stru^^le t ^ rectify the er rors an d evils of t he world. The Huq ianists ^ere not .jieroic "feform ersT They were content with the "me ntal^ma^teip sctibn which their studies gave them. They revelled in their freedom of thought and in the unfettered exercise of their individual powers. They pursued their learned researches, compared texts and codices, wrote commentaries on their favourite authors, translated Greek books into Latin, composed verses and dissertations after the manner of the classic poet or historian they most admired — for the writers of the Renaissance were mainly imitators and copyists, and exhibited littjlfiuijfiginality either in thought or style. But amid all their scholarly industry they sought only their own culture, and recognised no mis ^on higher than to make )ife^ as pleasan t forthem- s elyes as theycould^and to leave tiie world to go as it pleased. TiTwas therefore a thoroughly secular spirit which lay at the heart of the movement. It sapped reverence, high seriousness, self-restraint. It fostered a taste for what was graceful, beautiful, intellectually or artistically refined ; yet it left the mind destjtute of anvgrand or_ noble aims, and exposed it to the insidious allurement^ fiartJbly^eas^e^ J^uxiy-^^ self- incfulp-enc e, and in m any cases sensual gratification. Hence the widespread disregard of the common prin- ciples of morality which was too patent an accompani- ment of the Renaissance. Learning and scholarly polish, and not goodness or rectitude, formed the pass- port to social recognition and favour. The freedom of action claimed and taken led to deplorable vices and unscrupulous irregularities. The standard of conduct wa s pagan , not Christian. The Renaissance was not THE AGE AND THE MAN 5 in itself immoral; nevertheless, in libe rating; the intellec t from th e tram mels of scholastic and eccle si- ast jgal auih oriiy, it nberaied also from the superstitious restraints, which hitherto had so far held them in check, the baser impulses and inclinations of human nature, and these carried men away into immor al excesses with the force of a pent-up torrent. Benealh a surface of brilliant culture gross appetites and low passions were allowed to work without any curb of acknowledged moral responsibility. "I talian s ociety p.yhi]iitfid fl.Ti nlmost nnP.xa.Tnpled spectacle ofJIterarv. artistic, and cou rtly refinem e nt, crossed by b rutalities of lust, treason, poisonings, a ssassination, vi olence.'^ As is fdVUI'lMy the case when the educated classes are devoid of moral energy and principle, the political rulers of that period found their opportunity of aug- menting their own power and swelling their pomp and magnificence. The decline of faith meant the revival of despotism, as^ li always will. The pfincesTwho governed 'the several states into which Italy was divided developed into crafty tyrants, who, while posing as liberal patrons of art and scholarship, held their people in rigid subjection, humoured them occa- sionally by gaudy spectacles and shows, and intrigued against each other, leading all the time lives of voluptuous pleasure, greedy self-aggrandisement, and treacherous cruelty. To stem the tide of evil thus let loose, the Roman Ch urch of that age was utterly incomp etent.*^' Thut Church, with her wide-branching influence, had grown c orrup t through the very prestige of her outward success and unquestioned supremacy. hoYQ.jjLj^tQwer, love JiLjBiQney, and love of display were glaringly 6 SAVONAROLA patent in the higher orders of her ecclesiastics, where also, in numberless instances, the private habits and connections were an open disgrace, setting an example which was only too largely followed by the rank and file of the priesthood, and by men of all grades among the laity. True religion had not altogether fled the earth ; yet, although it survived in earnest hearts in hidden corners of society, the mass es of the p eople had lapsed into a sor did, ^Tn^l^p-rialistic indiffer ence ; and religi on., as representp.rj b y thft f^jmrph of Rome, was essentially a rev ived pagan c ult, embellished by the glittering veneer of a splendid and pompous ceremonialism. "^"^ it was amid this welter of intellectual unrest, and mo raly relig^ious, and political corruptioi^ that Savon- a rola appea red. With soul acutely alive to the peril for Italy and for Europe inherent in the existing licence and grossness, the Dominican friar set himself, as his one governing aim, to wor k for the purific ation of _ the Church and for the restor ation of societ y to f aith ann ri(y|itpnnHQ pRs. karlv in his p.nrep.r he r.anp-ht a firm grasp of the conception so vital to the world, that moral principle, loyalty to rectitude, and rever- ence for the Divine will, are really the forces which make for progress. His life was an incarnation of that idea. He toiled and preached at Florence — the very heart of the Renaissance culture and pagan sensuous- ness — to get it realised in private conduct, social manners, and the administration of the Church and the State. He was well versed himself in the New Le arn- ing; his mim, at lirst steeped in scholastic lore, had opened to the fascination of the classic literature of ancient Greece ; but the pure and exalted moral fervour THE AGE AND THE MAN 7 which breathed in the Christian Scriptures had thrilled and mastered his soul. An ardent and unwearied student, and possessed of high scholarlj^ attainments, h ejvvas no enemy to cultu re ; the definite object of all I his^eltort was to consecrate culture, and make it nobler, / more helpful to the world and its activities, by infusing 1 into it the spirit of righteousness. Right in the niidst o f the Renaissance movement, with its restless thoug ht, untram melled freedom of ingniry^ ftfl.ay yn prals. and^ h ollow jeligious formalism , Savonarol a rose as a w it- Jiess^QrliLe su p reme a^iThor itv of pui^ity and go odness as^absolutely ess entiaLto the advancement of mankind ; ana ' from nrst to last he la boured to put a hig her earnestness into the manifold liberated ene rgies of his age, striving to turn th em to grander and more bene- G cent uses , thai ikeroby, under such lofty inspiration,, they might become mighty agencies in the world's elevation and happiness. He wa s not simply a j Reformer, but a P frip]?^^ ^^ ^'g'^^^^^"'^^^fihf1, f^T^<^ ^^« | li te- work throughout was^ ^ strenuous tes timony for rjshi^^ma cs^: In the name of righteousness he struggled to restrain the immoralities in which not only the common people, but the educated, so freely indulged. In the name of righteousness he lifted his voice and used his influence against the vicious tyran- nies which were stifling the life of Italy ; and in the name of righteousness he put forth all his power for the cleansing of the Papal Court and the high places .x>f.th.e Church from their flagrant scandals and abuses. True, his success was not such, either in form or I degree, as he had fondly hoped. But his effbrt told 1 in ways and in quarters which the subsequent course of events only gradually revealed; and the spirit he 8 SAVONAROLA left behind had a far-reaching and silently moulding power. Sharing in the vivid mental quickening of the Renaissance, and profoundly stirred by the freer temper which it kindled, Savonarola, by hi s passiona te prote^] ^ for yi, ghj;eousness. rescued the Renaissance from its utterly pagan bent, and saved it from de- generating hopelessly into the moral corruption with which it was threatened through the sensuous and materialistic tendencies associated with it. He fur- nished the antiseptic which prevented it from fester- ing; he communicated to it a higher and healthier iiiitfllse ; and in this way he strove to make it more directly serviceable in promoting the cause of true well-being, freedom, and progress. Thus Savonarola occupies a notable place among the men who have contributed to the shaping of history. He was the first mind in Italy, if not in Europe, to tur n JQ effective original us e^^ ^b^Q ^ Jresh intel , lei j[ .ua1 lif e which tlie Renai ssance had awakened — the first mind, — ' "■" ' II . ..J l .L Ill . 1 ..J - c^ i .. -^.X.Il nurtured under Renaissance influences, that struck out Ion a distinctly independent line, and brought the forces set free by the Renaissance to bear on some bold effort which should mark a new move forward towards a higher civilisation and a larger good for society and the race. Many others gathered up the scholarship of the Renaissance ; many developed the critical faculty which it fostered; many imitated the polished grace of the restored classical literature. But to vitalise the learning and the quickened energies which the Re- naissance supplied by a lofty enthusiasm for righteous- ness, and then so to use them as to break away into a fresh path of endeavour, suit e j to the needs of th e age, and opening up to larger achievements in the ages to /: 1^" THE AGE AND THE MAN come — that was Savonarola's distinction. Amid imita-j tions, pedantries, dilettanteisms, arid elaborate scholarly I trifling, his soul burned as with a fire for the great \ spiritual interests of existence ; and the flame touched 1 other hearts and lives, and set them palpitating with new hopes, new and purer aspirations, to such an ex- tent as to give a higher direction to the emancipated life and mental activity of his time, and to co nvert t hat lif e and activity into th^ npY^arrl-strfl-ininor. pr9^essive fo rce which brqught the moderft, yorl4 into being. CHAPTER II Boyhood, Education, and Early Mental Struggles GiROLAMO Savonarola was born at Ferrara on the 14th of September 1452, the third in a family of seven children — five sons and two daughters. So far as can be learned, his father, N iccol o, a gentleman of culture, followed no definite^^irofession, b u^held a favoura ble standing in literary and fashionable so ciety. His mother, Elena — sprung from the noble h ouse o f Buonaccor sr af^M antua — seems to have been a woman of superior mind and decided force of character. She laid a strong hold on her son's affections, and exerted over him an influence for good which he gratefully recognised in after years. At first Girolamo's education was mainly dii;;f^cted by bis grandfather^ MicheTe Savonarola, a distinguished prof©ssor-a»d-^bysicTan, who had gained renown by his medical writings and by his eminence as a teacher of science. The or ip[inal home of Michele was Padua, w],^^re ^is family had long enjoyed an honou rable n^jaae, but by the invitation of that liberal patron of learning and art, Niccolo d'Este, Marquis — soon after- wards created Duke — of Ferrara, he had been induced to remove with his household to the latter city; and 10 BOYHOOD AND EDUCATION ii there he had been established for some years in the dignified post of pV>j«|7ain;Qr» fr> Arir^nnjp'g -gnnyf He is described as a kindly, devout man, esteemed by all classes for his benevolence and charity as well as for his scholarship and mental gifts. Girolamo was his favourite grandson, and, finding him an apt pupil, Michele devoted himself with loving care to the train- ing of his mind. The boy was exceptionally reserved and^ilent, delighting in seclusion, and taking no part in the pastimes and amusements of those of his own age. Ferrara was often the scene of gay pageants and splendid processions; for the ruling EsteJ[ai^ily revelled in displays of lavish extrava gance, and loved to flaunt their power and wealth before the people's eyes by parades of brilliant show ; but none of those dazzling spectacles appears to have had any effect in kindling young Girolamo's imagination or drawing him out of himself. He lived in a quiet world of his own, and had no taste for the vivid excitements around him, thus rev'e^llng;" at an early stage trie sombre disposition which, all through, largely coloured his life. It was early apparent, however, that his capacities for learning were quick and keen. By the general consent of the household he was des tined for the m£^i£al_profession ; and the grandfather took a proud pleasure in preparing him for a successful career in the same vocation as that in which his own laurels had been won. He introduced him early to the study of Roman literature, and led him on to the works of the ancient authors then held in greatest repute. All too soon this fond and capable instructor was called away by death, and just when entering his teens 12 SAVONAROLA Girolamo was left to the guidance of his father for the prosecution of his educational course. He 3y9;S s ent to the pu blic a cade my of Ferra ra, where the scholastic philosophy was still in vogue. In those days, notwith- standing the spread of the New Learning, the gateway to the learned professions — the medical no less than the others — lay through the rigid logical drill which the scholastic philosophy supplied. The books in use were translations of Aristotle and commentaries on his writings, and these at tKe outset were the means by which the world of knowledge was ope ned up to youthful minds. Girolamo threw himself with ardour into this branch of study. Aristotle's skilful dialectics and subtleties of thought roused his interest intensely, and afforded a vigorous discipline for his reasoning powers ; and so manifest to his teachers and fellow- students were his acuteness and grasp of apprehension, that great expectations as to his future began to be entertained. Yet, deeply as Aristotle had stirred him, it was in the works of Thomas Aquinas, to which he next turned, that he found the^'tadsf '^eSlTarating'^^ his intellectual enthusiasm. Here he was ushered into the realm of theological speculation, and under the leading of tliat new master-mind he was influenced profoundly. Instead of testing all knowledge by strict logical forms and compressing it within the accepted philosophical moulds, as the scholastic writers were accustomed to do, it was the peculiarity of Aquinas that he made the teaching of Scripture the supreme touchstone of all doctrines and beliefs. Such a method of dealing with the greatest subjects of human inquiry fairly captivated the young scholar of Ferrara, and disclosed fields of BOYHOOD AND EDUCATION 13 research all the more quickening to his faculties because they were novel and fresh. From Aquinas, he afterwards said, " he had learned nearly all the knowledge he had acquired." Day after day, and often far into the night, he pored over the learned disquisitions of the "Angelical Doctor," and conned the pages of Holy Writ, till his mind was permeated and his brain fired by the loftyjdeas^whifih met a craving^ Jbk^spirit^l^n^jyaid^esU For, during all this time, the lad's grave, brooding disposition had been deepening steadily. In striking contrast to Francis of Assisi, whose boyhood and youth brimmed over with wild frolic and light-hearted mirth, young Savonarola held himself aloof from all the diversions 3.ixd, ^aieties_us]a^^^ tempting at his years. He was never seen in the haunts of fashion- able resort, and all festive merry-making he scrupu- lously shunned. There were splendid receptions and assemblies occasionally held at the Este palace — a ponderous castled structure, standing in picturesque dignity in the midst of the city, with its four red- coloured square towers and massive walls ; and once he was persuaded to join his parents in their attend- ance there, but no consideration could induce him to enter within its precincts again. It was not because he lacked interest in life or in the pursuits^ of his fellow- men^_feTl)1ecause he 1^ and more to look on" life with serious eyes. Far from being a mis- anthrope, he had a tender, sympathetic heart ; and he was saddened by the wrong and wickedness he beheld rampant in the world. As the years of his youth advanced, this feeling of sadness grew more pronounced. The reckless revelry of his native city pained him. 14 SAVONAROLA He was haunted by the horror of all the vice and crime and profanity so patent on every hand — the g rA frivolity ofthe masses, the corruption of those in high places, ite shameless lives of the magnates of society, and even of many of the great dignitaries of the Church. For it was an age of deep mo ral degeneracy in which his lot was cast. Men plumed themselves on their learning and their culture, their taste for literature and the arts. The new impulse to study and thought given by the reintroduction into Western Europe of the great masterpieces of ancient Greek poetry and philosophy, which for generations had fallen into neglect, was at this time creating a vague unsettlement on every hand. The Renaissance was now coming in like a flood, and all over Italy fresh id eas were stir ring, the general mind was breaking free from stereotyped beliefs and long-established routine. But along with the intellectual quickening thus pro- duced, there was also a grave loosening of all moral restraints, a widespread abandonment to the laxity and the sensuousness of the oldpagan_J[ife. As Savonarola looted rOttttd-witfr thaF^rnest gaze of his, and pondered it all, his soul rose in indignation. Religion had early touched him with its solemn and august ideas, but now his religious feelings took on a more melancholy hue. Life and the world became to his vision all vanity and vexation of spirit ; and this impression was deepened when, in his later youth, Ferrara was turned into an arena of fierce and deadly strife over a dispute regarding the succession to the Este dukedom, and he saw the streets run with the blood of slaughtered citizens. Thus the sad condition of society lay like a burden BOYHOOD AND EDUCATION 15 on his heart. Seasons of prayer and fasti ng, and of silent devotion in church, became more prolonged and frequent.*" In lonely walks, too, outside the city gates, and along the green banks of the Po, he spent hours revolving in thought the decay of goodness and the hopeless depravity of the times. What were all the subtle speculations of the schools, what all the glitter and spell of the New Learning, when sin and debase- ment were blighting and darkening the whole aspect of human life ! Sometimes he found a solace in playing on his lute, soothing the agitations of his soul by the charms of music. Sometimes, again, like many another youth, brooding over the evils of the world and the mysteries of existence, he sought in verse composition a relief to his pent-up emotions. In 1472, when twenty years of age, he wrote a poem entitled " De Ruina Mundi," which is particularly remarkable, not for any graces of diction, but for the terseness and vigour with which it gives voice to his deep religious passion and the sorrow h^ fel^. in vjf^w r^ ^^^ pr^Ymlinc rinrnipti^n . It is certainly a gloomy enough picture which the poem presents of the vices and wrongs of an impious generation, — the whole world turned from God, and abandoned to pride, luxury, and licentiousness; all virtue and goodness vanished, nowhere a shining light, no one taking shame for his sins ; the sceptre swayed by men who wait for prey, honours and wealth falling to those who rob widows and orphans entrusted to their care, and trample on the poor; and while the writer declares that were it not for his belief in Providence he would have been utterly confounded, he breathes a prayer that his own heart may be kept unstained. I 6 SAVONAROLA Into the very midst of those gloomy reflections there broke a gleam of youthful romance, which promised for a while to refresh his spirit and brighten his conception of the world and of life. There had come to reside at Ferrara, and in the house next to Savon- arola's home, an exiled citizen of Florence, of the noble family of the S^ozzi, bringing with him a natural dajighter, whose beauty captissifidJ&gJ^oodystudent's afiefitioii^- The spell of life's young dream was upon him, and for a time he revelled in visions of happiness. One day, however, the spell was rudely broken, for when he availed himself of an opportunity which offered to avow his love and his hope, he was met with a repulse of haughty scorn — "Do you imagine that the blood and the great house of the Strozzi could form an alliance with that of Savonarola ?" Staggered for the moment, the mortified suitor was provoked to reply to the lady by a stinging reminder of the stain resting on her birth; and that rendered the rupture hopeless and complete. Thrown back once more on his own dark thoughts, Savonarola began to contemplate the idea of dexoting himiseif— -exclusively to the religious" life. He had gradually given up all thought of entering the medical profession ; and the world looked so vain and evil in his eyes, that the only rest possible, as it seemed, was to retire from its wretched debasement and shut himself up within holy walls. Yet he had great and serious hesitations ere he could determine on so momentous a step, hesitations arising chiefly from a sense of the grief and disappointment to his parents which he would thereby cause; and so for two or three years he lingered in troubled perplexity, praying BOYHOOD AND EDUCATION 17 again and again for light as to the path he should take. Once, it is told, he spent a whole night in anxious thought regarding his course, having first sprinkled his body with the coldest water to keep his brain clear and assist his meditations. He turned to the writings of Plato, which were then engaging the keenest interest in all the learned circles of the land, but though he thus derived a vivid intellectual pleasure, his religious instincts were not satisfied, and a r estless anxiety still haunted him. At last the way to a decision was cleared by a sermon he chanced to hear during a visit to Faenza, where he entered a church in which an Augustinian monk was preaching. The monk spoke some^ im- iT pressive, searchin g word^ aT^v^i^wK icir Savonarola f[ y would_never repeat, but w^^f^h to tibfi ^Tld ^^ carried (j in his heart, and ^haf^wr>3'r] sfPJ.tlArl f^r hhn t.hp critical ques^ion~which he h ad been pondering over so long. He retumeTto "Ferrara resolved to consecrate himself to the monastic life. Yet the resolution was hard to put into effect. It seemed as if his mother divined what was coming, and was following his every mood and movement with watchful and pained concern. He feared to reveal his secret, lest he should break down and abandon his purpose ; and for another year, therefore, the mental struggle went on. Then came an incident which all his biographers dwell upon with peculiar tenderness. One day, moved by the pressure of feeling within, he took his lute and played on it a strain so melancholy that his mother turned upon him with a look of intense sorrow, and exclaimed, " My son, that is a sign of parting;" but by a great efibrt he i8 SAVONAROLA kept his eyes on the ground and continued with trembling hand to touch the strings, without ventur- ing to answer. A sign of parting it actually proved ; for, on the day following, the 24th of April 1475, the irrevocable step was taken. It ^Ris Ihu fasUTal of St. George, and all Ferrara was gay with holiday crowds and tokens of rejoicing ; and when the rest of the family had gone forth to join in the celebration, Savonarola stole quietly from his father's house, walked the twenty-eight miles across the plains to Bologna, and there knocked for admission at the doors of the Dominican convent, where he was at once received as a novice, leaving, as he devoutly imagined, the world with its vices and vanities behind him. After he had gone, there was found among his books and papers a short essay, entitled " OnContemjit of t l^e Worl d." which shows how painfully he had been impressed by the wickedness around him. /" Every - 1 th ^^ IS l ull of i mpiety T of ns nnr an d robbery, f oul / and wickeH^ blaspEemie s, fornication, adultery, and all ( unc igahn ess, murder ancL envy, amb ition and' pride, \ hyi pcrisy and i'alseness , crime and iniquity. Virtues Vare turned^ J j atQ vio m nnfrvTr*^^ i n to virlue g. . . . Men are summoned to penitence by disasters, earth- quakes, and storms of wind ; but they do not hearken. They are summoned by floods, diseases, famines ; but they do not hearken. They are summoned by the im- pious deeds of J:he overweening Turks ; but they do not hearken. ^¥hey are summoned by the affectionate voices of preacher^ ,and servants of God; but they do not hearken. *^^11, in fine, are summoned by the natural pricks of conscience ; but they do not hearken." BOYHOOD AND EDUCATION 19 Two days later he wrote a letter to his father, with a view to assuage the grief which he knew was sure to be felt in the home he had so secretly forsaken. It is a memorable letter, in which the calm, deliberate resolve of the youthful ascetic is exquisitely touched with the tenderness of a loving son. It contains his reasons for abandoning the world and choosing the religious life. The desire arose, he said, from beholding " the iniquity of men, the debauchery, the adultery, the theft, the pride, the idolatry, the dreadful profaneness into which the age has fallen, so that one can no longer find a righteous man. For this many times a day have I uttered this verse with tears — ' Heu fuge crudeles terras ! fuge litus avarum 1 ' And this because I could not endure the great wickedness of certain parts of Italy. Everywhere I saw virtue despised and vice held in honour. This was the greatest suffering I could have in this world; therefore daily I entreated my Lord Jesus Christ, that He would raise me from the mire. Continually I made my prayer with the greatest devo- tion to God, saying, * Show me the path in which I should walk, for to Thee do I lift up my soul.' Now God has been pleased in His infinite mercy to show it to me, and I have received it. ... Jesus, rather let me die a thousand deaths than that I should be so ungrateful as to oppose Thy will. Then, my dearest father, you have rather to thank our Jesus than to weep. He gave you a son, and has not only preserved him to some extent from evil to the age of twenty-two years, but has vouchsafed to choose him for His knight mili- tant. And do you not consider it a great mercy to have a son made a knight of Jesus Christ ? . . . Do you not think it is a great affliction to me to be separated from 20 SAVONAROLA you ? Believe me, never since I was born had I greater sorrow and anguish of mind than in abandoning my own father, and going away among strangers, to sacri- fice my body to Jesus Christ, and to give up my own will to those whom I never knew. , . . Because I know you lament that I left you secretly, almost as a fugi- tive, let me tell you that such was my distress and the suffering of my inmost soul at having to leave you, that if I had expressed it, I verily believe my heart would have broken, and I should have changed my purpose ; therefore do not wonder that I did not tell you. ... I beg you then, my dearest father, to cease to weep ; give me not more sadness and grief than I have, — not of regret for what I have done, for indeed I would not revoke that though I expected to become greater than Caesar Augustus; but because I am of flesh, as you are, and sense is opposed to reason, and 1 must maintain a cruel warfare, that the devil may not gain advantage over me. . . . Nothing remains, but that I beseech you that, as a man of strong mind, you would comfort my mother ; and I beg her and you to bestow your blessing upon me, and I will ever pray for your souls." With those words Savonarola bade farewell to his father's house and to the associations of his youth. CHAPTEK III Monastic Life at Bologna Savonarola was in his twenty -third year when he passed within the gates of the convent of St. Dominic at Bologna and took upon him the monastic vows. His choice of a re fu se among the DominicasL friars was chi eiy'^^etermined^no dou bt^b^hJH lt7Y^ for TJinrnga Aq^i jias. w l^o t^a'-d 'fit^^^! rri3[Tngnishp.d.jaynament of that ord er. In applying for entrance he made no pre- tensions to peculiar sanctity, but with deepest humility as ked only to be receiv ed as a la y brother, and to be permitted to perform the most menial duties — to work in the garden, make clothes for the monks, or discharge the domestic services required by the brethren. The special attraction which the retirement of the monastic life might be supposed to have for him, as offering an opportunity of indulging his intellectual tastes and pursuing his favourite studies, did not, at the outset at least, exercise much influence over his mind. Hisjine TnQQWijjrr dn^iT^ "^^^8^ tiO e«^«p^ froTTi thft dipitr^^^^^^« and iniq uities of the wo rld, do penance for his sins, and devote himself to quiet communion with God. And soon the sincerity of his purpose was manifest in the austere habits he practised within the convent walls. He was conscientiously strict in rendering obedi- 21 2 2 SAVONAROLA ence to his superiors and to the rules of the order. His fasts were severe, his vigils of prayer long and fre- quently renewed ; and to his companions, Fra Girolamo, with his spare figure, worn to a shadow by rigid self- mortifications, appeared like a ghost moving about in their midst. He ate only enough to sustain life. His garments were of the coarsest kind, though always scrupulously clean. His bed was a sack of straw laid on roughly crossed pieces of wood, and its only cover- ing a blanket of wool, ^y such austerities he sought to calm his soul and rise into closer fellowship with the Divine mind and wily Speedily enough, however, he discovered that, though the pursuits of the world had been relinq uished, the spirit ot' the world had not been e^s caped! Jmbition and selfishness, he found, were little less actively at work under monkish hoods and amid monastic seclu- sion than in the busy haunts of men, and the aims cherished there were neither so pure nor so lofty as he had fondly dreamed. Disappointing, too, was the revelation, which ere long dawned upon him, of the corruption that festered behind the imposing stateli- ness of ecclesiastical life. For, admitted now, as he was, within the cloisters, he saw the religio us world fTHnmJ.fiP. 'im.fiidp.^ anrl. wa.a shnf>Vprl rwA vp.yerTby what he beheld. More fully than ever he became aware of the gross scandals and abuses of the Church — of the intrigues of cardinals and prelates for place and power, of the bribes offered and taken for dignities and preferment, of the immoralities practised even at Rome itself, and of the infamous avarice and un- scrupulousness of the reigning Pope, Sixtus iv. — a man whose low and grasping ways contributed to the MONASTIC LIFE AT BOLOGNA 23 degradation of the Papacy to a degree which was productive of endless evil in his own time and long after he had gone. Such flagrant iniquities in the sacred province of religion moved the depths of Fra Girolamo's righteous soul, and within a year of his entrance into the convent he wrote a poem, " De Ruina Ecclesiae," in which his holy anger flashed forth. The poem is full of symbolism and brilliant imagery. Savonarola describes the Church as appearing to him in the guise of a chaste and venerable virgin, and from her forlorn, dishevelled aspect he is prompted to ex- claim. Where are the precious stones and the fine diamonds, where the burning lamps of faith, the beautiful sapphires, the white robes of purity, the sweet chaunts of devotion of former days ? And when he asks, Who it is that has thus dethroned her and marred her peace ? she tells him that her place has been invaded by " a false, proud harlot," and that she has been driven to seek shelter in a poor cave, where she leads her sad life with many a tear. Then she takes him to her lonely refuge, and shows him the wounds from which she is suffering, until his heart is fired with indignation, and he bursts out in a passion- ate yearning to shatter and beat down the horrible system of wrong : " O God, lady, that I could break those great wings ! " But the only reply he receives is, that mortal tongue must not speak of it, nor is it allowed to take up arms : " Weep and be silent, for this is best." He did keep silent, restraining himself with diffi- culty from delivering the vehement protest to which he felt inwardly impelled. New work was given him which served to occupy his time, and in a measure also 24 SAVONAROLA to divert his thoughts. He was raised above the position of a mere lay brother, for which at first he had so humbly craved. For his superiors in the convent were not long in discovering that they had a sc holar of exceptional learn ing^ and ability in their midst, and they resolved to turn his gifts to account in a higher form of usefulness than that in which he had requested to be employed. He was called upon to under take the d ut y of teaching the novice s and superintendmg tkeir studies in ^hilosoph^ _and theo- logy. The task was one which he accepted with reluctance. It threw him back once more amid the arid subtleties and dialectics of the Schoolmen — " from the Aristotle of the world to the Aristotle of the cloister ; " it interfered with the leisure for retirement and devotion which he had hoped to enjoy, while it disappointed the craving of his spirit for contact with living truth and Divine realities; and hence, though he yielded a due obedience, his h^ai t secretly reb elled. Gradually, however, he secured time for the studies more congenial to his bent and taste. His old favourite, Thomas Aquinas, he never abandoned. He also re- sumed his acquaintance with Plato. Though swayed by ideals higher than those of the Humanists, his intellectual interest, which could not be suppressed, made him susceptible to the attractions of the re- covered Greek literature which the Humanists so ardently extolled, and on the knowledge of which they set so great a value. And in reading the Dialogues of Plato, with their imaginative glow and mystic depths and heights, he felt himself in contact with a rich and superbly endowed mind. His own mind was fertilised and stimulated; and he made some efibrts MONASTIC LIFE AT BOLOGNA 25 to employ his literary powers on the themes which the great Greek thinker discussed. The attempt, however, was ultimately relinquished, after his view of the practical worth of such studies underwent a change. There grew on him more and more a feeling of the vanity of all mere human speculation — a feeling that found expression in one of his discourses at a later date : " What does all this wisdom of philosophy serve for, if a poorold w,( mimi, ^-^^rlM^-^Jh^^i in tb^^- f^i^hi knows more of th e t rue wisdom than P lato?" He turned witli ever-Increasing relish to works of devo- tion like those of Cassian and Augustine, and thus sought to feed his inner life. But i t was in tji^ Holy^Scrr^tures thathe^Aind ..tjie^^moftti satiisfying nourishmentlJ!s>r the^^ needs _of,_his he arty He is said to have committedfTEe whole of the sacred books to memory, thus acquiring a mastery of biblical ideas and also of biblical phraseology which furnished him with an undoubted source of power in his work in after years. The Old Testament especially attracted him. He revelled in its bold and startling imagery, its vivid and stirring appeals, its stern denunciations of sin, its awful warnings of judgment in the name of a Righteous God ; for it seemed to his mind that nothing could be more suited to the needs of his own time, or more fitted to shake the evil world around him and arrest the wickedness abounding alike in society, Church, and State. And as he pondered ever more deeply the burning words of the ancient prophets, his soul was kindled to impassioned fervour, till often he felt as if he were himself inspired. It was then, too, that he began the practice which he carried on through life, of making notes in his own 26 SAVONAROLA minute and beautiful handwriting on the margins of his Bible and favourite devotional books. Thus at Bologna, amid steady work in scholastic teaching, varied by strict vigils of prayer and reverent study of Scripture, the mind and soul of Fra Girolamo unfolded towards maturity. But the Dominican ^ breth- re n ;tvere distinctively a p ^f^flirhing ^^^^^ ^^ ^^"^ one of their recognised functions to rear a succession of men trained to stand in the pulpit and administer religious instruction to the crowd of worshippers ; and in course of time it was determined to employ the talented and zealous young friar in this department of work. Accordingly, he was sent to visit several of the convents in other cities of Northern Italy, that through them he might obtain opportunities of speaking in the churches. It was thus that in 1481hewas_apppinted to preach at Ferra ra, his na tive city. He went there with no willing mind7 for, having formed an austere conception of his vocation as a monk, he dreaded any revival of the associations and affections of former years. Consequently, he held but little intercourse with his own family, and from all ordinary acquaint- ances kept entirely aloof. So far as his preaching was concerned, no appreciable impression appears to have been produced. His sermons failed to tell, — partly, it may have been, because, as he said, quoting the words of Christ, " no man is a prophet in his own country," or perhaps chiefly because he was yet only a novice in the practice of public speech. He could touch the con- science with marvellous success when engaged in close personal dealing with men, as in the case specially recorded, of his encounter with some profane, blas- pheming soldiers, who were journeying with him once MONASTIC LIFE AT BOLOGNA 27 in a boat on the Po, and who were so affected by his searching remonstrances and appeals, that they threw themselves in contrition at his feet, crying for absolu- tion. But in the pulpit, when addressing men in the mass, he had not yet found his power. Meanwhile, the clouds of war were gathering over the land. H Qstilities were threatened against Fprra ra. by ,^ie Venetians, on the one hand, and on the other by tope t^^ixius iv., who saw an opportunity of fur- thering the fortunes of his family and securing a share of the spoil. In the general anxiety which prevailed, most of the Dominican monks were ordered by their Superior to retire to places of safety. Savonarola was instructed to proceed, not to his own monastery at Bologna, with which he had been connected now for well-nigh seven years, but to the convent of San Marco at Florence ; and to Florence accordingly he went, there to find the scene of the real distinctive work of his life, though all unaware as yet of the actual form which that work would assume, and little divining the brilliant triumphs which would attend it, or the tragic climax to which it would lead. X CHAPTER IV Florence, San Marco, and Lorenzo de Medici It is easy to imagine the glow of exhilaration and hope which would kindle the heart of the young friar as, on crossing the Apennines, he looked down on the valley of the Arno, and the vision of Florence with its Cathedral dome, tall towers, gleaming river, and stately array of buildings and bridges, all set in a sunny land- scape of vineyards and olive-gardens, burst upon his gaze; for then, as now, Florence, beheld from the slopes of the Tuscan hills, must have been a ravishing sight. He had left Ferrara saddened by profound sorrow for the calamities of the country, but the spectacle of that fair city, wh ere n ature and art have combined to create a picture of super 6 "loveliness, was surely!itted in some measure at least to chase away the shadows which darkened his soul. There was much also in the convent of San Marco which might be expected to soothe and brigKten his thoughts. Relau]jL.-a^..g^ner ation bef ore, through the liberalit;^^ofjCQiaimo de Mftdicyfls a home for a reformed community of Dominicans, that convent had been endowed with a ]j^ra£;^^ofrarej^alue, and beautified by the works of the Fra' Beato Angelico which adorned its walls. The outer cloister, the chapter- FLORENCE, SAN MARCO, DE MEDICI 29 house, the very cells even, all shone with the deli- cately coloured frescoes, still quite fresh, of the pure and sweet-souled artist-monk, who often painted with the tears streaming down his cheeks. Those frescoes themselves possessed a peculiar charm, while the lofty conceptions they embodied were singularly adapted to minister to devotion and prayer. Moreover, the memory of the first Prior, the^ good and saintly Antoriirio, still lingered as a subtle, ele- vating lilfllitilicy Jlbbiit tTie place. Anfonmo had been the patteriia^jgious aspiration, the friend of reverent study, the apostle of cJiafity; and his meek spirit, active benevolence, and love of all that was noble and pure, had left its impress in a higher standard of thought and life. Thus San Marco had become a centre of attraction for the more learned and devout brothers of the order, and for many men of distinc- tion who sought refreshment for their spirit in the atmosphere of superior refinement and earnestness which breathed around. Such was the convent within which Savonarola, on coming to Florence, took up his abode. And out- side was the teemingcity, with its^ chatty, shrewd, qu ick-witted, energetic people ; /T ts gay, sprightly, vigorous 1 if e ; its heavy-fronted streets ancT massive, s ofnBrr'''S(S Luai£e^^ " her e ■aT id t h^ r Ftj 'y exgutsite specimens of the architecii^s, sc ulptor'Sj or bronze- desi gner 's art ; its imposing churches and their hosts of priests ; its filled handicrafts, its shops and bustling markets, and great commercial houses, where a flourishing^ trade was carriect on; and over all, the pervasive, masterful rule of its Medici prince, whose versatile genius, force of character, and astute states- 30 SAVONAROLA manship made him one of the foremost figures of his time. Savonarola was now close to the beat of a larger, more vivid life than ever he had yet known. Gradually, however, as he looked out on that vivid life from the cloistered seclusion of San Marco, he began to perceive much that was calculated to cast a shadow once more over his naturally brooding mind. For generations Florence enjoyed the rank and privi- leges of a free republic, but since the days when the ho use of Med ici rose to power, though the form of a republic was still maintained, the frg^dom wasprac- tically gone. The first stroke was dealt By Cosimo de Medici, who, taking advantage of internal dissension, succeeded by an adroit use of his vast wealth and popularity in working himself up to a position of supremacy, nominating the regular magistrates and holding the control of the State in his own hands. Yet, in spite of his unscrupulous ambition and the merci- lessness he could on occasion display, it must be said that Cosimo de Medici kept a firm grasp on the regard of the people by his munificent charity, his zeal in beautifying Florence, and his liberality in promot- ing culture and all branches of artistic work. He was followed by his son Piero, who died after a brief term of rule. Then came the famous Lorenzo de Medici, whose gifts and splendour were throwing a glamour over Florence and all Italy when Savonarola arrived. Like his grandfather Cosimo, L orenzo de Me dici was borne up in the exercise of dictatorial power by a strong current of popular favour. He was brilliant, affable, and fnl] of wit, and the very dash of his per- sonality drew to hint-an immense amount of admira- FLORENCE, SAN MARCO, DE MEDICI 31 tion. He k new how to humo ur the citizens an d recon- cile them to the loss "o t' their li beriy by frequent shows, processions, and public festivities, and by the profuse embellishment of the city with buildings in which they could feel a sort of patriotic pride. He was, moreover, an ardent pajronof learning and art. Highly cul- tured himself, and eager to encourage every type of intellectual ability, he gathered round him a constella- tion of sp. hQlars and p o ets^ architects and painter s, whose reflected beams cast a radiance round his head. Among the eminent figures in that brilliant group was Marsilio Ficino, the head of the Platonic Academy, and an indefatigable student of Plato's writings, who signalised himself by his e ndeavours to reconcile. the specu lations of Greek philosophy with the doc jjines of the Christiancreed. Then there was PicftJ^irandola, the master of many languages, and dev qurer of aJiknow - ledge, whose versatile gifts and manifold acquirements made him a wonder to his contemporaries. A special favourite was Angelo Poliziano, the most accomplished scholar of his day, and a distinguished teacher, who drew about him pupils from the great cities of Italy and from the distant parts of Europe, and who was celebrated also for his elegant poetry and epigrammatic wit. There was also Luigi Pulci, the clever satirist, and author of the famous burlesque II Morgante Maggiore, in which the romances of mediaeval chivalry were parodied with remarkable skill, humour, and lively play of imaginative invention. Occasionally, also, a promising genius was taken into the palace, and kept and provided for there at the great patron's expense — a privilege which, it is interesting to note, the young Michael Angelo was actually enjoying at that very date. 32 SAVONAROLA The presence at his court of such an array of shining talent, together with his sagacity as a statesman and his^_dext£ rous management of public a ffairs, encircled the name of Lorenzo the Magnificent with a lustre unequalled among the rulers o7 that age. But the spirit^jof^faction and envy is not easily quelled, andsome years before, in 1478, while Savonarola was still at Bologna, the life of Lorenzo had JbeerL.s.ejdauJsly;>thrp.atn.gi jnoral degeneracy at work und erneath the flaishir>g mnt^n'Rl TTia rnificence so on struck the eye and heart of Fra Girolamo, as he watched the vivid life of the city from his quiet retreat at San Marco. He had duties to discharge in the convent, however, which largely occupied his time and energies ; for here, as at Bologna, the training of the novices was en- trusted to his care, and he gave himself to the work with a self-devotion and power which in a brief space arrested attention. Coming before his students some- times in a sort of seraphic ecstasy, or sometimes with his eyes bathed in tears, he sought to stir their en- thusiasm in the study of the Scriptures, and woke in them towards himself an admiration which was strongly tinged with reverence. In a few months he was appointed to preach the Lenten sermons in the church of San Lorenzo; but this first attempt in the pulpit at Florence in 1482 was an utter failure. He was burning with ardour to convert the world and renew the lives of men, but^is precipitate manner, jifiT-Rh vmVp^ py^d awkward p^estures FLORENCE, SAN MARCO, DE MEDICI 35 were all^jgainst him. He was lacking^in the graces of opjtoi^.; his ideas were too fine and elevated Tor the popular taste ; and his denunciations of vice met with no sympathetic response. The audience fell away, until at the end of the course there were only twenty- five persons left to listen to him. At that time the pulpit-favourite of the Florentine public was Mariano da Gennazzano, a preaching monk of Jis-Aliguatinian order, -who delighted the votaries of the New Learn- ing by quotations from their much-vaunted classical authors, and whose musical voice, harmonious cadences, grand sentences, and rhetorical pauses, according to the description of Poliziano, had a captivating effect on the ear. Mariano was a distinguished specimen of the fashionable preachers of the day, skilful in suiting himsel Lto the t fl.st(^a of rank anrl o.nlturR and lulling rather than rousing the consciences of men. In com- parison with such an orator, Savonarola, with his austere doctrine and clumsy delivery, was regarded as flat and tame. The failure was a severe disappointment; and so acutely was he pained by it, that, as one of his early biographers states, he resolved to renounce the work of preaching for ever. He retired to his duties of Bible instruction in the convent, and was thus quietly engaged when a summons came which furnished an opportunity of revealing his capacity and force of character in a way no longer possible to ignore. / CHAPTER V ^ The Leap into Fame The summons which called Fra Girolamo away from his quiet work among the novices at San Marco was a comn iEtjid from his superiors to attend a Cha pter- G eneral of the Lombard Dominicans to be held in the city 01 Reg^ io. This was a gathering at which not only a large number of d i sti n g-u i sh ed 9.o.(^^ psi a st i p.s and theologians, but also many laymen of note in the world of letters, were assembled. It is not easy to discover with any clearness the part which Savonarola took in the proceedings of the Chapter ; all that can be definitely ascertained is, that by the appearances he made in its discussions the hitherto obsc ure m onk of San Marco wa s lifted at once into notice as a m an of un usual promi se, certain to be heard of again. Among those present who were particularly impressed by the conspicuous ability he displayed, was the youthful Count Pico della Mirand ola, already mentioned as one of the favourites at the Medici court. This gifted man, with his gracious bearing, fair and open counte- nance, and long golden hair waving down on his shoulders, excited admiration wherever he appeared. He J i^d beauty an d ^f\7^T^„ ffjii^'^ pnd t-iVIiah He had visited the most renowned universities of France and 36 THE LEAP INTO FAME 37 Italy, and gat hered know ledge from ever^/^^source. His /'^^r'^Tld "^f^ F' ^ny tongiies— Ure ^Tr"^d Jjatin. Syriac , Hebrew, and Chaldee; his wide acquai ntance wit h plnlosophy and science, his marvello us m em ory a nd versatilit y ot mind — had rai sed him to celebri ty as a 'prodi gy o i: learning: xnis brilliant genius was*irre- sistibly attracted towards Savonarola, and the friendly interest thus awakened led the Count at a later date to use his influence with Lorenzo de Medici in bring- ing about the reca ll of the friar to Fl orence after an absence of several years. The Ch^4it^;;^ener2l_at_Keggia^^ and^avonarola returned from Jt_to^ San Jlaj-co not only a marked man among the ecclesiastics of Lom- bardy, but a man in whose breast the conviction of a Divine m ission was beginnin g to dawn. He took up once more his work among the novices; yet, as he looked out on the sins and follies of the city around him, and on the too patent scandals still rife in the Church, and as he brooded and prayed in his cell, he felt rising within the conviction of a great task, to which, by his growing sense of power and by the righteous fervour of his heart, he seemed to be called. There is truth in Lowell's words — " Souls destined to o'erleap the vulgar lot, And mou ld the world unto tla(^- sr-liemp. of God. Have a fore-consciousness of their high doom." And Savonarola had become aware of a se cret pro- ph^ticLinatinct, pointing to some peculiar and sacred work for which he was marked out in the designs of the Most High. Strange visions came to him in his lonely vigils 38 SAVONAROLA of contemplation and prayer. The calamities that threa|,p,Tifid tbfi .Ch.u.rijj ...passed,- Ja^fore his "gaze ; he heard voices urging him to announce the coming perils and to rouse men to repentance and faith. It was two years, however, ere the way was opened for the delivery of his message. Iij. , 148^ he was sent to the town of San Gemignano, among the hills of Siena, where a people as yet' lihcorrupted by the loose vices of the time lived, surrounded by beautiful churches, tall towers, and many monuments of mediaeval art. There for the fir st tim e he ventured to unf old his prop hetic programme, and put forth the three propositions which were to i'orm the burden of his preaching all through life : — (1) t hat the Church y^il] |)h iTiOlirffT^^ ; (2) that it will afterwards be regene rated; (3 ) that this will c ome to pas s soon. These points he enforced by con- stant reference to Scripture, drawing particularly from the Old Testament startling illustrations of the Divine judgments which the evils of society and the abuses of religion must inevitably incur. Circumstances had transpired at Rome which lent additional force to his conviction that some such judg- ment w^as near. Sixtua. l y. had d ied, and it was notorious that Innocent viii., his successor, had owed his election to fraud and bribery. Instead of the Papal Court being cleansed, as many hoped it might be, the pollution had become worse than ever. The new Pope had sons of his own, whose advancement he schemed for with unblushing effrontery, while the ecclesiastics whom he drew around himself and raised to the chief dignities were a set of corrupt men whose vices were an open scandal ; and by such a pernicious example at the very centre of Christendom, encourage- THE LEAP INTO FAME 39 merit was given to the already too profligate tendencies of the highly-placed and the wealthy throughout the country. With all this in view, Savonarola was possessed with the certainty of coming disaster, and he felt himself divi nely impelle d t o d eclare it. The assurance of having a definite message gave point to his style and freedom to his utterance to a degree never experienced before. His hearers were visibly affected ; and in the consciousness of having wakened in other minds a thrill of sympathy with his own, he gained encouragement and strength. It was at Brescia, however, where he was appointed to preach in 4^86 , that the long-struggling passion and energy of his soul burst out with unmistakable force. The Apoc alyp se of John, which he chose as his subject, afforded ample scope for uttering the thoughts which had smouldered in his breast for years. The burning words which poured from him, denouncing sin and urg^iujo ; repen tance, pierced men's consciences^n^' ^oo k them out of their stolid indiflference. The crowd round his pulpit grew 'larger and larger ; and the people were awestruck when one day he described the four-and- twenty elders, and pictured one of them as rising up to declare the terrible doom which awaited Italy, and especially the city of Brescia, when blood would run in the streets, and fathers and mothers would see their children massacred before their eyes, and all would be slaughter and ruin — a prediction which was verified some years afterwards in the storming of the city by the French. The effect of this startling picture and style of discourse was immensely heightened by the statement made by one of his companions, that the Fra 40 SAVONAROLA Girolamo had stood in an ecstasy for five hours, with his face shining so as to illuminate the whole church where he was. The preaching was a failure no longer. I ts proph et- lik e fervour and inspiration awoke an enthusiasm of admiration and wonder, and his fa ^e spre ad. Savon- arola at last had found his power. He could use the pulpit as a vantage-ground from which to reach and move the hearts of men in the name of his Divine Lord and Master. All that he had now to wait for was a sphere sufficiently large and sufficiently central for the effective exercise of his gifts in stemming the tide of ungodliness. From Brescia, where he appears to have spent a considerable time, the .^jiith oritiesj of his^der directed hi m to p ass on to other cities. It is impossible to trace jpynis movements iii "detail, but for f ully four ye ars he ^^ was kept employed i n various parts o f Nortlbern Italy. In several respects this preaching tour was of great value: it afforded him abundant practice in public speaking ; it gave him experience in dealing with men in the mass, and in handling religious questions in such a way as to appeal to the popular interest and intelli- gence ; and thus it hel ped him to acquire c onfidence in his o wn ability to render some real spiritual service to his generation. In the later stages of the tour we find him at Pavia, where, on the eve of leaving for Genoa, he wrote a letter to his mother, throbbing with the warm tenderness of a still unquenched natural affection, and at the same time revealing the consecrated spirit that animated him in his work. " Be assured," he said, " that I am more determined than ever to devote body and soul and all the knowledge which God has given THE LEAP INTO FAME 41 me, for the love of Him, to the good of my neighbour ; and since I cannot do it at home, I will do it abroad." In the spirit thus expressed he was still labouring, when he received a message calling him back unexpectedly to his old place in the convent of San Marco. / CHAPTER VI Florence again — The Mission Found, AND THE Sphere Count Pico della Mirandola had not lost his interest in the dark-faced friar whose mental power and high- toned utterances had produced a profound impression at the Chapter-General at Reggio ; and as the fame of the pregiQbjftg.in. the nn rth^r n r.itie s became more pro- nounced, the scholarly noble was moved to urge his friend Lorenzo de Medici to secure the return of such a man as an ornament to his city. Lorenzo agreed to the proposal ; the Prior of San Marco was apprised of his wish, and issued the order required. So, i n .148 9, Savonarola was recalfed to. Florence ; and from that date he advanced with steady, rapid strides to all that was most marvellous and masterful as well as most pathetic in his career. In great weakness of body he took his weary journey on foot, until, utterly breaking down under the heat, he sank helpless by the roadside. There he was rescued by a stranger, who, according to the legendary embel- lishment of the story, after seeing to his recovery at the nearest inn and conducting him on his way as far as the San Gallo Gate, suddenly left him, with the 42 THE MISSION, AND THE SPHERE 43 parting injunction, " Remember to do that for which God hath sent thee." He had indeed come back to Florence with a sense of his He aven-given mission strong with in him. When he left the city a few years before, it was with a pained disappointment at the failure of his efforts to touch the public conscience, or even to catch the public ear. Now, on his return, he was aware of expanding powers in himself and of high expectations in the minds of others regarding him. He was in his thirty-seventh year, in the prime of his age and of his intellectual strength ; and he came back amid the old scenes with all the prestige for sanctity and eloquence which his labours in the provinces had won. At first he went to work quietly at San Marco, and betook himself once more to the instruction of the novices. Gradually, however, the older monks gathered round in the room where he taught, to share the stimulus of his quickening thought and flashes of impassioned speech. Outsiders also were attracted — men of learning from the city, eager to hear the man who had so singularly emerged from obscurity into renown. In the summer of 1490, during a course of lectures on the Apocalypse, the numbers thus press- ing in were so large that it was found necessary to re- sort to the convent garden, where, day after day, under a tree of damask roses, and surrounded by the arched pillars of the square white cloister and the frescoes of Angelico, Fra Girolamo, with one hand grasping his book and the other stretched on high, addressed his strangely mixed audience, and poured out his soul on the great themes that possessed him. At length he was besieged by entreaties to mount the pulpit and 44 SAVONAROLA make a more public appearance as a preacher ; and although he hesitated for a time, he ultimately announced that on the next Sunday he would speak in church and lecture, adding, as one of his earliest biographers asserts, " And I shall preach for eight years," — the very period over which his public ministry in Florence actually extended. Accordingly, on the 1st of August 1490, Fra Gir olamo ascended the pulpit t)i tiie conven^j church of San Marco. There was a dense throng massed together inTlie'Tiot very spacious building. The excitement and curiosity were so keen that many were glad to obtain standing-room anywhere, and even to cling to the railings, if only they might see the face and hear the voice of the prea cher whom a few years before they had treated wilh chillin g indifferenceT^Ue went on with tKe exposition of the Apocalypse which he had begun in the convent garden ; and here again, as in his preaching tour in the north, he laboured to develop his three famous propositions, with a growing confidence and a kindling fire of earnestness which kept the crowd week after week aroused and riveted. It was ever the sai ne mes sage — the C hurch is r.nrmpt unto its very core : its rentr^.l throne even is rnfi.P.n : Italy, the Paradise of earth, has become a spiritual wilderness, a land of idols and an abomination to the Lord ; the Churc li of Italy must be punished in order to be reformed. IFEe interest awakened was not altogether favour- able. His hearers were divided. Some resented his sharp denunciations and reproofs ; some sneered at his gloomy prophecies of evil ; some treated his visions and revelations as either a hypocrisy or a delusion ; some THE MISSION, AND THE SPHERE 45 had no sympathy with the lofty strain of feeling in which he indulged ; while some queiaiififlfidJiis. title to pose so authoritatively as the moral censor o f the Chu rch and of s ociety. Yet there was one thing which all were compelled to recognise, and that was the blaze and sweep of his eloquence, which had in it no cunning tricks or studied arts, but burst forth ever and anon with a spontaneous rush that awed the listeners into breathless amazement. It __was a s tyle of p reaching which had not been heard for many a day. ~ jSl'otwith- stanc^ihg occasional intricacies of philosophical in- genuity and fanciful allegorising, it was cjiaaiacterised by a dash, a pungency, an incisiv^ dir^.ctn , ess_o f phrase, under which it was possible for no audience to remain long unmoved. When the Ti^nf. |^f MQ1 nair^f^ rnnn^j ^^Q-t^rinaT-nlg rec eived a summons to del jy^r thn pnurrr-nf sermons for the season in the Cathedral. The crowd followed him inTas"Eer~numbers than ever; and there, in that immense sombre building, so bare and yet so stately, with its " dim religious light " deepening the effect of its massive simplicity, the friar of San Marco became at once a^^QJOOOJaaBt ioxf^^in^JElamatine affairs, and began the work which has earned for him his peculiar place in history. For in ga ining acce ss to the Cathe dral pulpit Savo narola had reached his throne. From that pulpit he was now about to^establish a sway over Florence which would rftviyp. f,hf^ wariiPS ^^^i^*^ of rig hteousness an d liberty, and shake to its foundations the powerful rule of the Medici itself. The monk preaching in the Duomo was ere long to be the law- giver of the city, issuing his injunctions in the name of the Most High. To his own mind by this time his * 46 SAVONAROLA vocation had become thoroughly clear ; h e^ was to w ork and speak for the reformation o^ TriQi^fils in society, and for'TEe revival of spintual life and purity in the Church. And here at last were both the sphere and the point of vantage most eminently adapted for the fulfilment of such a mission, — the sphere, the busy, cultured city which was the commercial c entre ofTta ly — and the point of vantage, his un- questioned command of the chief pulpit there. His sermons during that Lent season of 1491 struck the keynote of his few years' pulpit sovereignty. In bold, thrilling tones he launched forth against the frivolity, gambling, and impiety of the citizens, the pagan tastes and learned trifling of the devotees of the ancient philo sophy, the^yjces- and .tyranny of those in power, tKe sTavish subjectijQn_Q£ ihe. masses, and the bad lives of the clergy. He threw scorn on the light supplied by the pagan literature so extravagantly praised, and declared that the Scriptures are the onl}^ trueguide for the soul. In opposition to the prevailing tendency to depend on external works and ceremonies, he maintained that salvation comes only through faith in Jesus Christ and the surrender of the heart to His grace. Here his teaching ran on much the same lines as those afterwards followed by Luther. It was, how- ever, a 7M ral,not a ri npfrinfll, rp.fnr]7] -^yhlfh h^ gfrt him- s elf specifically to labou r for. He accepted the dogmatic beliefs of the Church, and, unlike Luther, felt no call to attack them. His one definite aim was to effect a practical purification of the Church and of the private and public life of the people. The anxiety to hear the new preacher in the Cathedral was universal, and sometimes the excitement rose to an THE MISSION, AND THE SPHERE 47 extraordinary pitch. Men and women crowded round the doors in the early morning, and then thronged in and waited for hours till the preacher entered the pulpit, and held all eyes and ears intent. There he stood, — erect and easy in carriage, not tall, but well-knit and finely-strung in frame; his monk's cowl slightly drawn back over a broad forehead, deeply furrowed with wrinkles ; his sallow face, with its rugged features, aquiline nose, large mouth and thick, firm lips, all lit up by dar k lu strous eyes which flashed and gleamed at time s with strang e fa scinating p ower. His jphysical endowme nts were' by no m eans attractive, yet when he looked" round, with his sad, wistful smile, and raised his deep-toned, resonant voice, accompanied by a simple gesture of his long and almost transparejat hands, the effect was irresistible. He spoke outJ)d|^lyj^dJ^eely, and as he warmed with his theme his whole counten- ance glowed. Sometimes his accent was stem, some- times tender and appealing ; and now and again, when enlarging on the Redeemer's suffering and love, he would seize the crucifix which lay by his side and kiss it. Yet while the crowd flocked to listen to him in the Cathedral, Savonarola was aware that his solemn preciifitions of woe, based, as he believed and avowed, on direct revelations of the Divine will, we re exciti ng a 1flrcrft^.Tn()^pf, of nnnt radic tion. This exercised his mind severely, and led him to question whe ther he should j:iot^ so far change his method and omit all refer en( ; ?e tp such^ subjec ts. That pause of hesitation, however, was forcibly rebuked in the way he after- wards described in his work, the Compendiu7)i RevelationuTn. " I remember that when I was preaching in the Duomo in the year 1491, after I 48 SAVONAROLA had composed my sermon for the second Sunday in Lent entirely on those visions, I deter mined to sup press it, and never in the futur e to touch on these matters. But Gr5^ is my witness how 1 watchea^d prayed the whole of Saturday and throughout the night, but could see no other course, no other doc trine. At day- break, weary and dejected by the long hours I had lain awake, I heard, as I prayed, a voice that said to me, ' Fool, dost thou not see that it is God's will that thou shouldst continue in the same path ? ' Where- fore I preached on the same day a terrible sermon." It is evident that the strong tinge of mystical en thu siasm which had early characterised him ^as beginning to colour in a marked degree the entire tone of Savonarola's thinking and of his public utterances. He dreamed himself back into the days of the old Hebrew prophets, fancying himself favoured by a special illumination like theirs. The pictures of the world's future and of things unseen on which he was prone to dwell, became transformed by his brooding imagination into vivid and present realities ; and they stood before his mind with such palpable clearness that he V>p1iAVf^d theiT] \.n be veri t^,b1ft rf^velationg_ from Ej^avfiia. This was a source of strength, and yet also a source of weakness. On the one hand, it s ustained him in tha t assumption of prophetic autho rity which inspired his own confidence in his teaching, and made him feel that he was "The chosen trump wherethrough Our God sent forth awakening breath ;" and at the same time it nfiig ji tily impresse d the popular ear. On the other hand, it fostered a ten dency to THE MISSION, AND THE SPHERE 49 extravagance and exaggeration which was fraught witii "many dangers, and which indeed contributed largely to the mistakes — well-meant, but none the less serious — that brought his career to a disastrous end. He had inherited some^fjbhe superstitionsjqf medi99val p ie t y, and this was one oOKem — a ^elief^ in_direct vis ions and voice s from the^^rituaLworld. In this he was the child of the immediately preceding ages, and it was scarcely to be expected that he could be quite free from the influences which had moulded religious life and feeling for many generations down to his own. Still the massive force of his intellect preserved Savonarola from the worst excesses to which those mystical fervours might otherwise have led. Men of culture felt as they listened to him that they were in presence of a vi gorous^ clear-seeing, com manding mind . His impassioned oratory enthralled them, but his mental grasp compelled their respect. They could perceive that while he deno unced the exo rbitant value att ached to classical studies am t!he t eachings, of ancient philosophy, he was kimself tlioroughly. versed in the very learnin g wnich he hfildJI) HWh ^^^'gh^ account. His preaching was full of bold and striking ingenuities, and behind it was a wealth of knowledge and fulness of intellectual culture that could not be concealed. But the Bible was his supreme book, the sole authority on matters oTlbelief and cuiidUcITJ and he expounded it with a daring and skill rarely if ever surpassed. In every image, parable, or figure, in every historical nar- rative even, he found not one, but many meanings — meanings heaped upon one another with lavish pro- fusion. He was rich in ^pintiilf?^ ^^(\ allegoricaLinter- pre tations. Here, again, Savonarola was, so far, the 4 50 SAVONAROLA child of his age, carrying with him the tendencies to inte llectual t^U ' b tjlotjT and lainuto a eoilyoio d erived from the sc holastic andp niiosophical training under which he had been re ared. Nevertneless, so intense was his moral earnestness and so great the native force of his character, that he rose conspicuously superior to the pedantry and intellectual affectations of his time. His mental activity was for ever asserting for itself a wider range. Again and again his genius burst the scholastic fetters, and struck out in freer, more natural methods of dealing with truth ; and it is only just to say that by his breadth of view in discussing great vital pro- blems, his fearless courage in facing facts and grappling with the realities of things, as well as by his thorough- going directness in bringing the force of reason and the teachings of Scripture to bear on the manifold questions and interests of human life, h e co mmunicated to his generation an impulse which was destined to prepare the way tor the forward march of the world. He was, m f aCtr; the pi oneer of a n ew age — -an age of fresher and larger thought, o f higher asp iration and endeavour, of orr^^.tftr indppp.nrlftnp.p. of fntP.llApfnal and TYior R,! ponvict ion — an age of p rogress, in which the pursuit of truth and the struggle for human well-being should be more than ever inspired by the passion for liberty and by a rational and practical spiritual faith. Having grown up, as he did, amid, the vivid intellectual activity of^the^Renaissance, he j'nfi^gf^^^ into it, and blended with it, a f orce of moral energy and p urpose ,>/> not i nherent in the' Renais sance itself, which Elevated its ch aracte r, expanded its scope, and gave it a direc- tion calculated to sway and shape the advance of society at large. The one serjiius dpi' ect of tli p. Rf]^p.issfl.npp THE MISSION, AND THE SPHERE 51 was the absence of an uplifting moral ideal ; and it was the merit "oi SavonaroTa^Thar^e ~ stipplied that want. He planted right at the heart of the great literary re- vival an ideal and a pure moral enthusiasm fitted to lead it on to higher results, and to charge it with power to stir the nobler ambitions and instincts of human nature, and urge men forward in new paths of enterprise — intellectual, social, and religious. Thus he was th e precursor, not so much of the Protestant Refo rmation itselt^, as of tha t wider, :t'reer movement of the hujnan spirit out of which the P rotestant Refor- mati on and many other phfl,ngp« hajjp^. sprung — a herald of the dawn of our modern civilisation. / CHAPTEK VII The Monk and the Magnifico Notwithstanding the irritation excited in some quar- ters by his first Lent sermons in the Duomo, Savonarola's power and success were so undoubted that he was in- vited tQ.,p:£a/?h bf?£Qre.jUia..SlgO>Qry — the body o f '^Fef magistrates — in the Palazzo Vecchio, on one of the days in Easter Week. He i'elt hiihself rather embarrassed in addressing so specially select an audience, and under the necessity of being more polite in his utterances, " like Christ," as he said, " in the house of the Pharisee." Yet he contrived to speak some pointedLword§j;jn the dutieS^jiL-rulers. He condemned the tyranny which made heavy exactions and loved flattery, and pro- nounced the prince to be responsible for the evil in his city. Some of his remarks were construed into si gn ificant allusi ons to Lorenzo de, Medici, and it w^as alleged that Lorenzo, on hearing of the sermon, had taken offence. It was even asserted that the displeasure felt at Court would lead to the preacher's expulsion from Florence. We find a reference to those rumours in a letter written to his warmly attached friend, Fra Domenico da Pescia, one of the San Marco brothers, who was away on a preaching mission. Calling to mind the case of a well- 62 THE MONK AND THE MAGNIFICO 53 known monk who had been sent into exile a few years before for his vehement testimony against usury, Savonarola said, "Many have feared, and still fear, that that will be done to me which was done to Fra Bernardino." Lorenzo, however, gave no manifest sign of disapprobation, and, whatever the leading men around him may have suggested, he declined as yet to interfere. Meanwhile the impression of Savonarola's ability and genius was growing, and in July of that same year, 1 491, he was elected by his broilier-mon ks as the P rior of _ Sjb h Marco. As the convent had been rebuilt and' enriched by the house of Medici, it had been the cuj^om fqr f^he^ yi Q^v Prin r on h iw appoiT^toient to repair to | I ^^ , IVf^fifl i p.i p f^.1 gp.e and render some sort of homage to the reigning head of the family. Savonarola was expected to conform to that custom, but showed no inclination to do so. The older friars became uneasy, and, hurrying to his cell, remonstrated with him on the omission of what seemed to them an important duty. " Who named me to be Prior — God or Lorenzo ? " he asked. " Gad," was the answer. " Then," said he, " to Him alo qe wij] ^ I give thanks, and not. tQ -moigJbal ma n." Lorenzo, when told of this speech, merely re- marked, " A stranger has taken up his abode in my house, and will not deign to pay me a visit." The Magnifico was apparently struck with the lofty inde- pendence of a mfm^oijsihoae,.e?;.ceptionaL gifts he was already^jiwarg, and his fMirJQsj,t3^,_wRs ?fWaikf?TiQd to knoittU^teft- better. Honouring every form of talent, and eager to draw all that was distinguished and re- markable within his own circle, he made many efforts to conciliate and attract the brilliant preacher. If 54 SAVONAROLA Savonarola would not come to him, he would go to Savonarola. He went repeatedly to San Marco, to hear Mass in the church, and afterwards walked in the convent garden. Savonarola, shut up in his cell, en- gaged in his studies, left him unheeded. The monks came anxiously to tell him the news, " Lorenzo is in the garden." " Has he asked for me ? " was the inquiry. " No." " Then," said the Prior, turning to his desk again, " if he does not ask for me, let him go or stay as he will." It would appear that from the first S avon arola was conscious of a fundamental «^^\^'^r]1PTn h^twe^i^ him- self pud thft fUnRfrinnH Pri^pft at the head of the state. He cannot have failed to recognise the uncommon skill and resourceful ability of Lorenzo ; yet it is not quite clear that he had an adequate comprehension of Lorenzo's large and varied power, his splendid intel- lectual capacity, the elements of real genius which had won for him his wide and brilliant renown. Though studiously avoiding any direct exhibition of hostility, nevertheless, there is reason to believe, he regarded Lo renz o as a type of that repressive des;g^lisaQ~^^ainst whichjiis jyhnlft spnl wfl.s it), ^Qjolt ; and also as an embodiment of that bewitching but morally pernicious pagan spirit which all the purest instincts of his nature impelled him to combat and arrest. Hence the rigid austerity of his demeanour in rejecting the courtesies of one whom he regarded as the corrupter of the people's morals and the destroyer of their freedom. Whether he might not ultimately have gained an influence for good over Lorenzo's mind by a manner more gracious, is open to question. But feeling nnnsfrair^^d fr^ eof, j^jpaplf ng-ainst the entire THE MONK AND THE MAGNIFICO 55 syst em of things identified with w hat he believed to be Lorenzo's unjust and dem orahsing rule, he was resolved to keep clear of any embarrassments arising from the great man's patronage or friendship. Lorenzo, on his part, was not readily discouraged in his con- ciliatory advances. He sent rich presents to the convent, and on one occasion dropped a number of gold pieces into the alms-box. When the box was opened, the Prior, convinced that they had been placed there by Lorenzo, laid them aside, and sent them to the Guild of the Good Men of San Martino, to be distributed among the poor, saying, as he did so, " The silver and copper are enough for us." He was not ^oing to allow hi mself to be compromised in his w ofk for God by any sed uction of bribes and gifts.: for, as he remarked in his sermon a few days later, a faithful dog does not cease barking in his master's defence because a bone has been thrown to him. Baffled once more, Loceazo began to take alarm. He had hitherto shown a wonderful patience and magnanimity, but at last he realised the indomitable temper of the preacher, whose influence threatened his prestige and power. The step he next took to win him into complaisance was to °^^d,/i depn tpt^V^ of five J llfluentif l,] AJfiVAng — r>nTnPTnVn "Rnnoij Onid' Au- fnnin yf^Pipi^r.^*,], Panln [^^nHpriTii Fy-^j^pp.^/^^ ^<.1r^^^^ and "RArT^p|,l'dr> "R.i^f>ft]1fl,i — on a special visit to San Marco. They came as if by their own prompting, t o urg e Savonar ola to moderate his tone and take up a less severe attitude in denouncing aliuses ; and they dropped ominous hints as to th e risk of banishment if he should continue his sweeping charges against the 56 SAVONAROLA existing order of affairs in the city. The composed and resolute bearing with which Savonarola met the deputation rather disconcerted them in delivering their message. For a message it was, as he at once divined. They were acting at the bidding of another, he plainly told them, and not of their own accord ; it was Lorenzo who had sent them, and Lorenzo should be enjoined to repent of his sins, " for the Lord spares no one, and fears not the princes of the earth." And as for the threat of banishment, he said, " I fear not sentences of banishmentj^for^jyiisjjiijC-Jit^^U^^ a grain of^ ^!m i n 1^ e arth. Neve^t^eless^^tjiou^^ am a stran gfi^ j^^ and7K offi^aQ ^ ^it iiTjfiU .a^T^-'^^ first in the p.ity, T s}],f^,ll ,c^t-iy ^,WP' T-a.m. .ajid. it is-Jie t.haf, will d^iaxt." Savonarola was deeply moved by this visit and its evident design to terrorise him into the sup- pression of his convictions ; it confirmed him in his determination to mai ntain his independenc e at what- e ver co sfc. He had a~ strong assurance that the con- dition of Florence and Italy was about to undergo a change, and he went so far as to predict, in the presence of many witnesses, that the Magnifico him- self, the Pope, and the King of Naples were all soon to come to their end. Lorenzo, mortified by the unmistakable repulse he had received, now resolved to use more decided mea- sures for the subversion of an influence which, he felt, there was serious reason to fear. F^^uJ^riano da Gennazzano, the polished rhetorician, by whose popu- larity Savonarola's first pulpit efforts were eclipsed, had for some time retired into comparative silence. From the seclusion of the convent of San Gallo, which Lorenzo had built for him, he was called by the THE MONK AND THE MAGNIFICO 57 Magnifico to resume his preach ing and to confu te the prnphpj.f^, prf^^^"'f1l'ons ^^ ^- ^e rival jEhn haiH supplanted him in the Flo rentine mind. He appeared in the pulpit of SanGallo, and discoursed on the text, " It is not given to you to know the times and the seasons which the Father hath put in His own power." The audience was large and eagerly expectant. Lorenzo was present, along with a numerous company of his literary friends and many of the magnates of the city. But, for the object intended, the result was a failure. Fra Mariano, by his heat of temper and excessive coarseness of VI tn pfijT^i^ri'j q vfty-ff jjrj^^ th p. tti fljrk. His admirers were shocked, and some of them openly turned and became followers of Savonarola, while to Lorenzo himself the sermon was altogether disappointing, and henceforth he left the Prior of San Marco undisturbed. Savon^-ola replied QELJlxfi^J.oJiowiritf, .Sunday to Mariano's attack^, preaching o n th^ same text, and defending himself with vigour against the charges of extravagance and presumption levelled at him in Mariano's discourse. Ere long, however, some sort of reconciliation was effected between the two preachers, and at the invitation of Mariano they joined in cele- brating Mass together in the church of San Gallo. Mariano soon after received an appointment at Rome, where at a later date, as we snail hnd, he again made himself conspicuous by ill-designed efforts to malign and injure his old rival ' iv ' hen b e s e -tr ' by -gathering trdii bles, "" and witir~darkness and with dangers com- passed round. jf Sav9na.T-(;^1a,'s snprP Tnacy in t hft pnlpit, pf Flor^^^^ ^wa s now undispu ted. Lorenzo, despite the defeat of his attempts to win over or to subdue him, displayed 58 SAVONAROLA a large measure of fo1p-rfl,ru?ft and allowed him to strengthen his hold on the popular regard. In a few months, however, the distinguished Prince was struck down by a disease which baffled human skill. It was in the spring of 1492, and Lorenzo the Mag^n ificent, as yet only foriy-f^^]]- yfar^ nf ^grrf^ ir. the prime of life and the height of his power, lay in his beautiful villa at Careggi, among the olive-gardens, pronounced by the doctors to be n ear hi s end. Then Savonarola was surprised by a summons to attend the deathbed of the great man. Lorenzo had sent for him, because, according to one account, he wished to die in charity with all men ; or because, according to another account, he was racked by remorse for past misdeeds, and al- though Holy Communion had been administered by one of the priests, he yet desired absolution at the hands of one whom h e declared to be the only ii onest " religi ous " whom he knew, and who acted up to his profession. Savonarola duly appeared. T^Jj^Jxiar and the Magnifico had never met before . What happened at the interview it is difficult precisely to ascertain. In the version of the story given by Pico della Miran- dola, nephew of the versatile scholar of the same name, and also by Burlamacchi, it is stated that when Savonarola came into the dying man's presence, Lorenzo mentioned that he had thre e spec ial sins to co nfess — the sack of Volterrfl ,, the plnr^^^v r.^ r.t;^ M onte (]el]e Fanc^u\ le (an institution founded for the dowry of Florentine maidens who had been deprived of their marriage portions), and the slaughter of Florentine citizens after the Pa zzi*cohspiracy. I^avon- arola consoled him during these confessions by re- peating, " God is merciful ; God is merciful ; " and THE MONK AND THE MAGNIFICO 59 then, when Lorenzo had finished, he demanded of him three things before absolution could be given. First , that, he should have a living faith in God's mercy. LoreTftdJ lyplied that lie had such a taithl — SfifiShd, that h e should rA.^nrft Whe^ ^^ ^^^ nr^jnofly o/>qTnVorl and charge his sons to make restitution. Lorenzo, after hesitating a moment, signified his assent. Then came the thjrd stipulation. Savonarola drew himself up to his full height, and said, " GiMfiJJjaCfijifie back h er liberti es." Lorenzo turned his face to the wall and uttered not a word, and Savonar ola left the room with ojit granting the absolution desired . There is considerable ground to suspect that in describing this interview the biographers of Savon- arola, writing some years after his death, may have been moved by their enthusiastic admiration for their hero to give an exaggerated colouring to the actual facts. It is hardly to be supposed that one in the position and with the character of Savonarola would violate the oath of secrecy with regard to a deathbed confession. It is indeed doubtful whether Lorenzo, in sending for him, had in view any such confession at all. He had already confessed to the priest who administered to him the Holy Communion, and there are difficulties in the way of supposing that he wished to make another confession. Th e account g-iven by Poli ziano, Lorenzo's favourite Court-companion, i s less fly ^,m?^,j-,i^ ^. bui m many respects more proba fele. It was written in a letter only a few weeks after the event. According to Poliziano, J^gv^r^aynla. r^^]x|f> pn|. to he ar a confession, but to address some fri endly coun sels to the dying ma n. He admonish ed him to hold firmly to the faith, which Lorenzo avowed that 6o SAVONAROLA he did. He exhorted him to am end his _I if e if he should recover, and that he promised diligently to do. Finally, he urged him to meet death, if it came, with resignation, and the reply was, " Nothing would please me better, should it be God's will." Savonarola then prepared to depart. " Give me your blessing, father, before you go," Lorenzo asked ; whereupon Savonarola recited the prayers for the dying, in which Lorenzo with bowed head and pious responses earnestly joined. This description of the occurrence, which is simp le and jaaijiral, presents Savonarola in a less harsh and irreconcilable aspect than the other ; at the same time it brings into view, with an air of truthfulness, some of the better qualities which still undoubtedly lingered in Lorenzo's strangely complex and richly endowed nature. So the two notable men met and parted. The monk went away to his convent and to his work in the pulpit, which was every month widening before him ; the Magnifico rapidly sank, and died on the 8th of April 1492, " leaving, as such men do, the deluge after him." CHAPTER VIII Changes and Prophecies of Change On the death of Lorenzo de Medici his son Piero ca me into >jg(pwer. He was gallant and comely in person, a keen athlete, delighting in riding, wrestling, tennis, and other exercises of p b yaioal ok ill; yet, though possessed of considerable mental ability, the new ruler of Florence lack ed the qualitip ?^ pssfipt.ia.l fp the wise manfikgemjent of men. He had all the ambition which characterised Cosimo and Lorenzo, but was entirely destitute of the tact and statesmanlike shrewdness which had lifted them to success, while his rudeness of manner, haughty spirit, and violent outbursts of temper were a constant cause of offence. Under his leadership Florence soon lost its proud pre-eminence and its balancing influence in Italian affairs. In the govern- ment of the city itself his failure was equally marked. Lorenzo had been scrupulously careful to preserve the form and semblance of liberty, even though depriving the people of its reality ; Piero had no patience with such a policy, and even the form of liberty he rashly proceeded to destroy. Instead of flattering the popular mind by keeping up the appearance of being the first citizen of the State, and therefore one with the Floren- tines themselves, as his father and Cosimo had done. 62 SAVONAROLA he Hpf,PVTT>i|iPrl in play |.hft rrllp, of ahsnlnfft priYiPft and to brook no restraint in the use of his power. A wide- spread disaffection was thus created. Many leading men, who had willingly followed Lorenzo, now fell away from his son, and a part y continually in- creasing in numbers and strength was formed agai nst him . Meanwhile the voice of Savonarola was still pleading for righteousness, purity, and the fear of God, and more arid mnrp f>^Q ri^apnTifATifprj ^^aaa in the city gathered round his pulpit. He displayed no special antagonism tO Piero's rule ; nevertheless, without his intending it, probably without his being conscious of it, he came to be regarded, if not as the head, yet as the heart of the disaffection, since the principles which he proclaimed with passionate earnestness were so clearly in favour of justice and liberty. That Savonarola was himself profoundly stirred by the prevailing feeling of unrest, may be seen from the strange visions which at this time flashed before his mind. On Good Friday, a fortnight after Lorenzo's death, he beheld , as he afterwards described, ^Jalgick and reached the sky, bearing^ on it the inscription, Crux Irae Dei ^thp Pff^i^f^ ()f (^gfYfi Wvaih^- and on its appearance the clouds gathered, the sky darkened, lightning and thunder, wind and hail burst forth in fury, and multitudes of men were slain. Then the sc^nej^anged ; the sky cleared, and from the midst, not of Rome, but Jerusalem^ he .^law ano thpr cross, so brilliant «Tir| p ;1nrinnn tb a t nil — tho wori d was illumined by it, and flowers sprang up, and joy awoke on every hand. It bore the legend, Crux CHANGES AND PROPHECIES 63 MisericordicB Dei (th e Cross of God 's Mercy), and all the nations flocked lo adore "ii. Such a vision in- dicated the suspense, and the r^^rj^tilitiinn nf t^a im- pellin g; crisis, which Savonarola shared with the general mind. The first change which broke the suspense was the dp ai.h of the Pope, f hft 1«^ anrl incompptftnt Innocent vj^jj. Here was a second instance of the fulfilment of t hose pro phecies reported to have been uttered by Savonarola m the sacristy of San Marco in the previous year. First Lorenzo, and then the Pope, whom he had declared to be near their end, were now gone. All Italy was eagerly intent on the election of Innocent's successor. During the night between the 10th and 11th of August 149 2^ thp Cop^.lave of Car- di nals^ as sfniblf^rl H^ ^^^ Vnf^r>nnj.^v.^cQ thc uotoHous RQiejti^n^— ^^gi^j ^ Spaniard by birth, to fill the vacant chair. The result was due to the rankest bribery. Vast sums of gold were freely used in Borgia's favour, and some of the cardinals received a heavy price for their vote. Borgia's character was flagrantly impure. While fascinating in address, genial in disposition, and singularly expert in the conduct of affairs, he was a prelate whose life was immoral and licentious to a deplorable degree, and whose breaches of the vow of chastity were distinctly and widely known. In the appointment of such a man to the highest dignity in the Church, and in the general gratification with which his election was hailed throughout the land, we have a slaajyoag^vidence of the J^axity of moral feelinjy which formed a marked feature of the times. Dissolute and cgoxji^tas the f^ or THE ^^ 64 SAVONAROLA Papal Court had been before, under Sixtus iv. and Innocent viii., it now became more than ever a centre of demoralisation; and when the new Pope was pro- claimed under the title of Alexander VL, all hope for the reg^eneration of religion and of the^Church seemed ^o Be shattered. For a while at first appearances promised a strong and determined rule, but events gradually proved that it was to be strong and determined not in the interests of religion, but only in the interests of the Pope him- self, and of his rapacious, violent, and unscrupulous family. To Savonarola in Florence, with eye ever fixed on the movements of the ecclesiastical world, the elevat ion to thp pontifir^R.tp, of a prelate of^le^ nder vi.!s power- ful yet darkly blemished character was a p ainfuLd is- a^paLafcKient ; and when he thought of the bribery and intrigue by which that elevation had been secured, and saw after a time how affairs were tending, his mind was filled with the gloomiest forebodings. He looked for nothing but woe and disaster. The sombre picture which his imagination drew of the immediate future was so definite and real, that he accepted it as a revelation from heaven. He saw it all as an inspired vision. On the night preceding the last of his Advent sermons in 1 492^ he beheld in the heavens a hand grasping a sword^on_^^whii^h,.^ere inscribed thQ....S^rc[s,' (j-Ladius Domini super terram cito et volociter (the S^^^^r d of th ^ T mn<^ npmn ^Tu p earth soon an d spe edily \ He heard voices pledging grace to the penitent, threatening stripes and vengeance on the wicked, and calling upon himself to urge men to reverence the Almighty, and also to pray that God CHANGES AND PROPHECIES 65 should send good shepherds to His Church, that the flock might be fed and saved. That Savonarola believed in t hese visions as verit- abl e, comlnumcations trom the unsee n, it is impossible to doubt. His mind conceived things with such vivid intensity, that his thoughts assumed a concrete shape and colour which imparted to them an authority in his view nothing less than Divine. He placed the same measure of reli ance on his prophec ies and pre- dictions of the future. These were, probably, but the sagacious forecasts which his skilful reading of events had led him to form, yet in a high-strung temperament like his, they were converted into divinely-sent glimpses into the secrets of Providence, which he was commissioned to make known to men. There is no sound reason for charging him as a mere pretender to the gifts of the prophet and the seer, for the sake of sensational impressiveness and popular His sincerity of spirit was sufficiently proved to clear his character from any suspicion of wilful deception. It is quite obvious, however, that he exagg erated both th^ vnlnp gnrl iha anf|jnrify of his prophec ies and visio ns. For the most part the y^came to hi m in times of social and politic f^l f^,gitfl.tir>r> and therefore they were attended with a state of excite- ment in his own feelings which led him to place und ue confidence in their Pivine inspiratio n. The fact also that m repeated instances they approached so wonderfully near the' truth, was itself a snare by which his mind was beguiled. No doubt, those visions and pro phecies ^ave him a cer tain arresting power in ad jressin^ the people; theyimpaHed 'an added force to the nerve-thrilling and often spirit-quickening 5 X 66 SAVONAROLA words which poured forth from his strong and fervent soul ; still, it must be admitted, they tempted him into ocQa siopa l excesses of zeal, and into misguided attitudes and utterances, ^wRich ultimately had the effect of embarrassing his reforming work and bringing about his sad and premature end. Visions and prophecies entered largely into the sub- stance of Savonarola's sermons in the months imme- diately following Alexander vi.'s accession to the Papal throne, and Florence was stirred by his ominous fore- shado wings of coming judgment. Suddenly, however, in the spring of 1493, it was found that Savonarola had left the city and was preaching_at_Bologna. According to Villari, his depa rt ure wa s due to the intervention of _Piero de Medici^ whoj^tCSugirT^ of the . mflue^nfi^^ preacher rornid whom his own ftnpTnif^s wprA pnyr T'^tHj^Pg, instigated the autliOTrETes of^the Dominican Order to command his removal. Dr. Creighton throws d oubt on the existence of any > ^uch feeling on Piero's part, and argues that if Savonarola had been regarded as an enemy it is inconceivable that Pi^ro should have helped him, as he afterwards did, to procure the Papal Bull which made t hf^ Flnrf^ntinft Dnnm'mVanft ind^p^^dent of th^ T,nmV>Qra.X!nTifrrA(y^tinn The real explanation of the absence it is not easy to discover ; but th e absence itself was a vexation tQ th e Flor en- tines, and especial ly tT-yiTi^^ ^n t'hp. mr>nV« of San Marco, who sadly missed the guidance and inspiring fellowship of their beloved Fra Girolamo. His work at Bologna was not altogether encouraging. He preached the Lenten course of sermons there, but felt as if in an atmosphere of restraint, and this so CHANGES AND PROPHECIES 67 tamed his manner as to call forth the common criti- cism that he was but "a simple man, and a good enough preacher for women." Gradually, however, his audience increased, and people of all ranks — artisans, peasants, burghers, men and women of note — were attracted by the reputation of his name. The haughty wif e^ of Giovanni Bentivogl io, th e despotic lord of Bolagna, was one of his regular hearers, but she came ha bitually la te, and with a pompous train of attendants, in terrupti ng the devotions of the congre- gation and t he discou rse of the preacher. At first Savonarola endeavoured to shame her by pausing in his sermon till she and her retinue were settled in their seats, but finding that the annoyance was re- peated, he addressed an admonition to ladies in general as to the dut v ^ pf arrivin p^^ m t ime and not disturbing the worship. Even this had no efiect ; and at last, one day, when the interruption was particularly distract- ing, Savonarola was roused, and cried out, ' ^eho ld, here ^^niPiH th^ devil to disturb the word of G od." In her rage at such a public affront to her pride, the great lady or dered two of her cavaliers to strike her re prover dea d there and then in the pulpit. They had not the courage to attempt the task. She sent two others to attack him in the convent of San Domenico, but when admitted into his presence they were su bdued by his ^e ;fit']fi yfit- dignifiArl hpfl.rinor and crept away abashed. Notwithstanding this patent risk to his life, he remained in the city till the Lent season closed, and then in his last sermon he made the public announcement, evidently in defiance of the hos- tile design to which he knew himself exposed : " This afternoon I will take the road to Florence, with my 68 SAVONAROLA slender staff and my wooden flask, and I will repose at Pianora. If any person want aught of me, let him come before I set out ; " and then he added, with signi- ficant emphasis, ''Nev ertheless, it is not m v fate to diev,.ajLJBologna." CHAPTER IX Preparing for the Flood The first task to which Savonarola set himself on returning from Bologna was the refojatL-cOua^own n^onastery. This was an object which he had been contemplating for some time, as a preparation for any wider reform to which Providence might open the way. He saw clearly that if a thorough improve- ment in the religious condition of the Church was to be reached, the work must begin amongst the monks and the priests, and he decided therefore to make a start by settin g his own h ou sehold in order. As an initial step, however, he found it necessary to procure for himself and his convent a more inde- pendent position. San Marco and the other Domini- can brotherhoods associated with it in Tu ^fiftny w ere under the jurisdiction nf f.ViP Cnngrftgriitinn of Lom- by|.^r]j^ ancl Savonarola, as Prior of San Marco, was subj ect to the commands of the Vicar c^f t^^^' nonoTA- gatifiBii. Accordingly, with a view to obtain greater freedom in his reforming efforts, he mad ^ applicat ion to Bome for the separation nf ^.]-|p ^Tnspaji Congregation from |,hn,( of T.nTy^harrlv ; and in this he wa s suppor ted not only by his own brethren, but by th e Signory of 69 70 SAVONAROLA rio rence a nd by Piero de Medici him self. flnprit^la] i\a^^^r^^\ T^r^ntfo V^f "N,flirlf^W:^,S ,^c[ The in- ■3Siflip1f,8 wfli.^ .a]fiftn,.tm his side. The o.hi ef ^ ftp pQ^l ents-^ of the scheme were the heads of the Lombard convents, Tiii^;|[ pvip.Q ^^n^ y.fi. of Mikua^^and PopR A.leYaftd^r vi. ^i&m de Medici's assial ^ance may l^f^ pyp^inpH partly by a desire to show hostility to LudovicQ ,S£prza, and partly by his expectation that the indftppridp-npp. af,..Jd>p Tuscan monasteries, and especially of San Marco, would^add to the di^iiLty~iiJLELoi:ence. In face of the Pope's dis- favour the case seemed hopeless, but a Brief ordaining the separation was obtained by a bold and clever manoeuvre. The subj e(^ was discussed ja^ Con ^'^^i Hit PnniP nn ??nd Mi\j 1493, when Alexander, losing patience, abruptly closed the assembly, declaring that he would sign no Brief that day. Cardinal CarafFa remained behind, and in p^^yfnl riOriYPrnnit.ir^^ a^lUV. the ^,Opp <^j:ew the isignnt rinr from hh fin[i;rr ^rnlrri th^ d^uaipent, which had been already prepared, with the full stamp of Papal authority, and then carried it off in triumph, just a few minutes before a deputation representing the op posing party^arrjyed to find that the deed against which they wished to protest had been done, and could not be recalled. The effect of this Brief was to give to . S^voaarola a lij^rty of action which he had not hitherto possessed. He was re-GJactod Prior of iSani Marco, and was afterwards "TP^^intjpfl yippr-(^^^'^^q] nf tih^ Tiif=^rRin Cmigr^^"^^'^^ becoming thereby indep£aidfiBt*-jal,.,a]JLw,ecclesiastical au tlii^yjt^y save that of th^ "^ope f\r\(\ ih^...J^.her- General of the DgpTtinican Order. The free position thus gained, Savonarola at once proceeded to use in the reform of San Marco. His PREPARING FOR THE FLOOD 71 first work was to restore the original rule of the founder. San Domenico's last words to his disciples had been, " Have charity, preserve humility, observe voluntary poverty ; may my malediction and that of God fall upon him that shall bring possessions to this order." Th e possession s which t he conv ent had acquired, in disregard of those injunctions, were now rf ^Tjiy ^ pc pd. All J^ne clot hing-, ornaments, and expen- sive furiii^ure we re forbid den. Longer hQy i y^ of praye r, fasti ng, and penitential mortification were introduced, Savonarola himself being as rigorous as any in the practice of these austerities. The two cells which he occupied at the end of the long corridor on the upper floor were barely furnished, and very small, each being only four paces square, with one window about two feet in height and rounded at the top. One was his sleeping apartment, the other his study. In the first cell the visitor sees to-day some of the relics of the great Prior's devoutl y f^^ji^p le ^^^ self-denying life — his rosary, wooden crucifix, cloak, under-garment, and hair-shirt ; and also a reminder of his pathetic end — a fragment of the stake at which he suffered. Moreover, it was arranged that if the alms collected from friends outside were not sufficient, the needs of the brotherhood were to be met by the manual labour of those whose tastes and abilities did not qualify them for intellectual studies or peculiarly spiritual work. The result of this arrangement was that San M arco became a home of artistic industr y, wherejp aint- ing , sculpture, architecture^ wopd- ff^rYJilgi ^^^ manu- script-i llumination were busi ly pursued. As for the special studies carried on, these were divided into three 72 SAVONAROLA branches — dogmatic theologj^ philosophy a^ d moral science, and Holy' Scripture ; and in order that the work ot' the last^amed department might be followed out to greater profit, Savonarola took care to provide for the teaching not only of Greek, but of the Hebrew, Syriac, and Chaldee tongues. The p restige of San Marco was distinctly enhanced under so lofty -purposed and large-minded a regime. Difficulties, indeed, arose; criticism and hostility had to be encountered ; but soon a higher earnestness was awakened, and the ^imnre^s sion produced in Florence was such as to attra r^i, ever-ir^^i j 'easin p - num bers of citi ^ ft p s. some of them men of noble birtk, io ^ioin th e bro therh ood. The convent became the centre of a revived religious enthusiasm, and the fresh, purifying influence was felt in other communities of the Domini- can Order throughout Tuscany. Savonarola's relations with his own monks and with the visitors who frequented the convent were of the most cordial and friendly character. The natural gravity of his disposition was softened by a gentle graciousness, which seldom failed to beget a warm affection in those closely associated with him. He could unbend from his usual austerity of mien, and enter with genial freedom into the pleasantries and pastimes of the brethren in their hours of relaxation. Occasionally he would take them out for a day's excursion into the country, choosing some secluded spot where they could enjoy the beauties of nature undisturbed ; and there he would freely join with them in their simp le repast under a shady tree, read to them, sing with them, and look on with frank and easy good-humour at the sports in which the novices PREPARING FOR THE FLOOD 73 sought vent for their youthful spirits and energies ; endearing himself to them all by his winning brother- liness and humanity. He was, moreover, the tr usted counsellor to who m citizens of all ranks t urned for guidance in their per- plexitie s. Inquirers' caineio 'him wiUi th^fr doubts ; care-laden men and women sought his consolation in their troubles; the erring and penitent repaired to him with the burdens that lay upon their conscience ; and he received them, one and all, with a sweet be- nignity and a firm yet gentle faithfulness of treatment which sent them away strengthened and comforted. He had a tender heart, with a deep fountain of sym- pathy in it, notwithstanding his apparent severity. His usefulness at this time was extended in its range by the devotional publications which he had begun to issue. Hi s^ tractates on Humility, Pr ayer, the Love o f Jesus Christ, an dj-.hf ^ \vj ^r^warl iTf^ were wid ely used as religious handbooks, and enabled him to r each and influence a larger audience t han that which had been enthralled by his ministrations in the Cathedral. These works had a fine saintly flavour, a mystic elevation of thought, and a rich spiritual wisdom, which afforded nourishment to thousands of earnest, aspiring minds not only in Florence but in far distant cities. For months now Savonarola's voice had not been heard in public, but towards the end of this yea r^.149 3, he appe ared ag^ain in the Dnmno p^ilpi t and preached the sermons for the Advent season to congregations that listened with rapt and reverent emotion. His stro np^ personality and impassioned earnestn ess, his lofty integrity and purit y of li fe, against which the 74 SAVONAROLA slightest whisper of suspicion had never been breathed, were steadily rai sing him in the esteem of th e com- munity, while the growi ng ; belief in his predic tions and warnings inten sified the p^ pnla.r iT^ tf,|-p. st in his preaching. With the 73rd Psalm for his subject, he dweTT^pecially on the corru^iiiacA-oLihe clergy and the vices of the princes of Italy. The clergy, he said, "tickle men's ears with talk of Aristotle and Plato, Virgil and Petrarch, and take no concern in the salvation of souls. . . . They speak against pride and ambition, yet are plunged in both up to the eyes; they preach chastity, and maintain concubines ; they prescribe fasting, and feast splendidly themselves." He had strong words of reproof for the dignitaries of the Church, and in a classical passage, which is here quoted from the English translation of Professor Villari's work, he held them up to withering scorn. " There thou seest the great prelates with splendid mitres of gold and precious stones on their heads, and silver crosiers in hand ; there they stand at the altar, decked with fine copes and stoles of brocade, chanting those beautiful vespers and masses, very slowly, and with so many grand ceremonies, so many organs and choristers, that thou art struck with amazement. . . . Men fe ed upon these vanities and r e joice in these pomp s^ and say that the Church of Christ wa s never so flourishing, nor di vine worship so well cond ucted as at.,£reaejit ... likewise that the first prelates were inferior to these of our own times. The former, it is true, had fewer gold mitres and fewer chalices, for, indeed, what few they possessed were broken up to relieve the needs of the poor; whereas our prelates for the sake of obtaining chalices, will rob tlie poor of PREPARING FOR THE FLOOD 75 their sole means of support. But dost thou know what I would tell thee ? In the primitive Chu rch the chalic es were of wood, the p rplnt^in nf ^^]"|- in these da ys the Chur (;h hath t^haliiflt' 1^1' ft f H,'*^'^ ^'^^d piHat^^s of Equally severe were the r ebuk es which he levelled at th e p olitical ru lers of the land, the petty but osten- tatious sovereigns who held sway over the numerous principalities into which Italy was then divided. They made their courts and palaces a refuge for the wanton and the unworthy. They showed favour to flattering philosophers and poets, who pandered to their vanity by lies and fables. And he struck a note of passionate sympathy with liberty by denouncing those luxurious princes for the readiness with which, under the in- fluence of false counsellors, they devised new burdens and taxes to drain the blood of the people. The rig j^teous, he said, were longing for the scourg e 6r GUji-^ smite the earth, and in solemn accents he foretold a day that was drawing nigh when, hurrying down from the hills of the north, the agent of God's retribution would appear. "Ov^erthe Alps One is comi ng, s word in hand, against Italy, to ' cKasiise her t,yrp.Trf^tate were comi ng home to men with a force unfelt before. The misdoings ol: aTTope like Alexander vi. and the mismanagement of the city's affairs by Piero de Medici were creating a vague uneasiness and haunt- ing fear. There was a presentiment of trouble on every side. Those ser mons on J^ he Ark, therefore, offering a refuge f rom the inreatened calami ties, and promi sing safety to Florence , the favoured city, if she should repent and turn to the Lord, met a conscious need in people's minds. But the Flood had not yet come. / CHAPTEK X Amid the Throes of Revolution All through the summer of 1494 signs of storm and trouble loomed on the northern horizon. The young monarch, Char lies viii. of France, as repres enting the house o f Anjou, was preparing to assert an old claim to the ]^j|]grlnm of ^Vaplpg^ wFiat-a i\ Itnr^ar^ tL had jUSt rftpp.n t1 y ffl?,(^p,p.fid ftd, if<^ th ft throne. Pope Alexan der vi., after appearing for a time to enc ourage Char les, had turned r^und and tak^n Tyif QpsQ^s side ^jj ^efence of his ri^ts. But the most determined agent in fomenting the strife was Lu doyico Sfo rza, t he usurp e r of M ilan, who had strong personal reasons for ""Instigating Charle s in prosecuting his design. Ludovico Kelcl his nephew7 the rightful heir" to the dukedom, in close confinement, and lived in terror of the vengeance threatened by the Neapolitan reigning family, to which the wife of the imprisoned Prince belonged. It was therefore to his interest that the southern kingdom should be seized by the foreigner. Another adviser in the same direction was the po^^^rful cardinal, Giuliano della Rovere, who had been a ca nSTda.te'^ or the FapaLxEaif^' and" who still bitterly resented ^ the election Qf P^ pe A lexander in preference to himself by means of the lavish bribery employed. Rovere had 78 AMID THE THROES OF REVOLUTION 79 deser ted to the French King, and was now using his influence to ui-ge him to strike a blow at Naples and Rome together. The land was in a ferment of restlessness as the summer wore on. Ambassadors hurried hither and thither ; intrigues were busy at Milan and Rome and at the French King's court ; rumours of all sorts flew abroad. The people everywhe re were on the strain of e xpectancy . Many were ready"to welconie the invader in the hope that his coming might be the means of redressing their grievances and righting their wrongs. There was a widespread feeling, so far strengthened by Savonarola's preaching, that some momentous change was at hand. The Prior of San Marco had foretold that the instrument of God's judgment would come from beyond the Alps, to purge the nation from its evil and renovate the Church ; here now, it seemed, in the monarch of France was the divinely-appointed messenger through whom the prediction was to be fulfilled. At Florence public sympathy, affected largely by the memory"^ ^a long-standing friendship, was at first distinctl,^JxL&y^ur„of„France. Piero de Medici, how- ever, regardless of popular sentiment, and without consulting the Signory, took the rash step of openly joining the alliance between Naples "anH £Ee Pope. The FIorenl^ines"W©r^''exaspefafe^ was roused to wrath, not only against Piero but against Florence itself; and Ludovico Sforza, dreading the effect of so formidable a league on his own tenure of power, became more pressing than ever in inciting the French monarch to move southwards and march his armies over the land. So SAVONAROLA The counsellors and generals of Charles had nothing but discouragement to offer to such an enterprise, which in their estimation was hazardous in the extreme ; but the K ing o verruled all objections. He was consumed by a feveri sh ambi tion, and buoyed np by romantic dreams of adventu re and conq uest. He had conceived the idea of posspssm g t^ie \vhole of I taly, of rising to imperial dignity, and making the I^ap acy dependent on France ; and then, having gained a position at the head of Europe, he was to set forth on a holy ^rusade aga inst the conquering Turks. With such visions of achievement kindling "his imagination, he resolved to plunge into the undertaking, which looked so rich in gain and glory. In the beginning of September Charles crossed the Alps, and it was amid the tension of suspense created by the news of that event that Savonarola resumed the sermons on Noah's Ark which he had found himself so strangely unable to bring to a close in the previous spring. On 21st September he came to the passage, " Behold, I, even I, do bring a flood of waters upon the earth." Tidings had just reached Florence of the sack and pillage of Rapallo, on the northern coast, by a section of the French a!b my, and a feeling of consterna- tion had been aroused. The p opular sympat hy, with the inva ders was now chan ged into an agitation of dismay as it began to be realised how grave a disaster the invasion was likely to prove. The Cathedral was crowded to its utmost capacity, by a congregation sensitively alive to every word which the Fra Girolamo had to say. With tremulous eagerness they waited for the great preacher, and when at last he mounted the pulpit and gave forth the text with a voice that AMID THE THROES OF REVOLUTION 8i sounded like thunder in the vast gloomy building, the words seemed to come as a super natural announceme nt, miraculous in its very appropriateness The hushed assembly, which embraced not only the chief merchants but many of the scholars and cultivated men of the city, listened awestr uck under a deepening impression of the clearness and certaint y with which the pro gicher s predictions were c oming tr ue. feavonarola himself, as all coilld feee, was " profoundly moved, and as he pro- claimed judgment against ungodliness, and implored his beloved Florence to repent and obtain deliverance from the Lord, he spoke as one overpowered by the sense of his own inspiration from on high. In speechless awe, and half dead with terror, the great audience, after the sermon, passed out into the street. Slowly but steadily the flood of invasion swept south- ward and advanced towards Florence, the dissensions and jealousies of the Italian States leaving its course comparatively unchecked. Piero de Medici, recognising his danger, and conscious of the ut ter want of support from his own people, took his fate in his hand and hurrFed otf alone to con ciliate Char les and make terms of peace. So chilling, however, was his reception, that his weak spirit succumbed, and he consented to conditions which were humiliating in the lowest degree. He surrendered to Charles the border fort- resses of the Florentine territoryT'granTeno him the right '^^CTTJCCup y Fisa and L eghorn during the con- tinuanceof thFwar, and prornise^Hfo pay a subsidy of 200,000 florins, "without obtaining in return for such concessions any guarantee whatever either for his city or for himself. Florence rose in fury. Its independence had been 6 ^M^ 82 .4W> SAVONAROLA sold ^-w^^ hj tibfi i\'^V'^Q^'^ Vr\r^^ whose control of affairs was utterly regardless of the public good ; and the long-pent-up discontent found expression in a burst of revolutionary excitement. S avona yola rendered an important service by doing his utmost to hold that excitement under some rational restraint. H e ha d now the general confiden ce of the cit izens ; they knew him as an ene my of tyrants and an advocat e of popular rights, and they looked to him as the one man sure to give them sympathy and guidance in this crisis of their fate. He had begun to preach on the Book of Haggai as affording a subject suited to the circumstances of the hour, and a dense mass packed the Cathedral to hear him. The burden of his message day after day, as he confronted the sea of upturned, agitated faces, was, " Repent ; the salvation of Florence, of Rome, of Italy, is to come through repentance." With tender appeals and many a pathetic avowal of his tears and prayers for Florence, he exhorted the people to righteousness and faith and the fear of God. So strenuous indeed were his exertions, that he was reduced to exhaustion and hi s health wa s seriously affecte(^fQ r se veral days. But the public excitement was materially allayed, and prevented from rushing to wild and hazardous extremes. Meanwhile the officials of the city were addressing themselves to the practical political problem which had arisen. On ^f,h NnypTnLpr t he Signor y, acting on their own initiative, summoned a special meeting of Council, at which Pioro Capponi, a man of proved sagacity and high repute, gave voice to the general feeling. Pier p de Medici, he declared, was no longer fit to govern the State, and the time had come to have AMID THE THROES OF REVOLUTION 83 done with the government of children and to put forth an effort for the rep- r^v^ry of li berty. On Capponi's motion, it was resolved to se nd an)l;)fi|SRad9rs to t reat wi th Char les, and undo, if possible, the mischievous results of Fiero's pusillanimous conduct. Those ambas- sadors were to offer a friendly welcome to the King and his army on their march to the south. It was also resolved to collect the soldiers in secret places in the city, and to call upon all classes to provide themselves with arms and be ready to issue forth and fight in case of need. And particularly Capponi urged, and the pro- posal met with hearty agreement, that Fra G irolamo Savona xLola should be sent as one of the am bassadors, seeing that he had gain ed the lov e of all th e peop le. Fra Girolamo accepted the commission. I n doing ^ o he steppe d into the arena of politics and took part in the first stages of a political revolution. True, he was a member of a monastic order, and as such supposed to be precluded from entangling himself with public earthly affairs. But the circumstances of the time and the force of his own large, strong natureTia3 a lready liftej l^ im mto a. Y>q^ i \, inn which he could not so faith- fully use for the glory of God and the cause of righteousness if trammelled by rigid monastic rules. By means of those sermons delivered from the Cathe- dral pulpit, as well as by the power of a pure and lofty example, the distinguished preacher had by this time wrought a marked effect on the Florentine people. He had welded them into a living unity of feeling such as had not for long been seen ; he had imbued large masses of them with exalted aims and with a spirit of sacred fervour and religious faith ; he had reawakened their sense of justice and their lov oljdi liberty, and 84 SAVONAROLA given them a new conception of what a Christian city and commonwealth should be. There was no man who stood out so prominently as th e repres entative of their b e^t aspi rations ; no man so thoroughly trusiea alike for his courageous integrity, his warm humanity, and his unwearied interest in the public good. Even men of culture, to whom the lofty tone of his teaching had been at first distasteful, had come to feel the contagion of his spirjiuaL-fisihusiasm, and yielded to his power. Angelo Poliziano, whom we have seen as the learned scholar and the trusted friend of Lorenzo de Medici, was softened in spirit and drawn into strong sympathy with Christian truth, and when he died, in September of that very year, he requested to be buried in the Dominican habit in the San Marco church. The versatile and brilliant P ico della Mira ndola, who had all along been sensitive to Savonarola's moral and intellectual power, was so deeply touched, that he cherished the desire of joining the San Marco brother- hood. These are only isolated instances of t h^ swa y \ Y)iic]^_Savon at rpla had g aine d over many of t he most en light ened minds of the community. Moreover, there can btJ little doubt that with a considerable section of the populace the ardent con- fidence placed in him as a leader was immensely enhanced by his strong assertion of supernatural claim s, by his p- Cft'^t atjc^aM sym bolic ' visions, and also by that air of certitude in announcing the designs of the Almighty in passing affairs which often gave to his^ sermons, as George Eliot says, " the-intex'^atjCif a political bulletin." Accordingly, in the political service now thrust upon him, and in the conspicuous share he was henceforth to AMID THE THROES OF REVOLUTION 85 take in the public life of the city, we can see only the natural result of the peculiar influence and position which Savonarola had gradually acquired. Indeed, his discourses in the Duomo had already become political incidents, and it was inevitable that a man of such co mmanding per sonality and strong hold on the general regard should be toTced to come to the front in the critical situation which had emerged. To Savonarola himself the constraint of circumstances was a call from Heaven. He saw in it a sign of the Supreme Will to which it behoved him to bow ; as he said a short time afterwards, " I was in a safe haven, the life of a friar. . . . The Lord has driven my barque into the open sea. Before me on the vast ocean I see terrible tempests brewing. Behind I have lost sight of my haven ; the wind drives me forward, and the Lord forbids my return." Before setting out on his errand to Charles, Savon- arola delivered one of his great sermons, imploring the citizens to be steadfast in mercy and peace. " If you would have the Lord to continue His mercy towards you," he ended by saying, " be you merciful towards your brethren, your friends, and even your enemies." Then, with two of his own friars as companions, he departed on foot for Pisa, where the other ambassadors had preceded him. They had had their interview with the French King before Savonarola arrived, but found that Charles would promise nothing, and postponed all negotiations until he should reach Florence in person. Piero de Medici, who was still with the King, took alarm when the ambassadors appeared. Their coming on an Jiidependent mission from the city was to him 86 SAVONAROLA an p-vifl ftiifift t^hat some chanp-e of serious momen t had ^ifiCmxed. He hastened back to Florence, d etermm ea' to itssert his asce ndancy, only to discover, as it proved, that the Signory were prepared to resist his reassump- tion of power. He entered the city on the evening of 8th November, and when, on the following day, he presented himself with his retinue at the magisterial palace, he was tre ated as thejbe trayer of the State, and after a scene of heated recrimination, th^ ^ yates w ere ^hut in his face. The great bell of the palace-tower overhead rang out the hammer-sound of alarm, and the crowd thronged into the piazza. Piero was driven to take shelter from the burst of rage which quickly rose around him. An attempt was made to rally the populace in his favour, but the once powerful Medicean watchword, Palle, Palle (" The Balls, The Balls "), had lost its spell, and was drowned in the loud counter- cries, Popolo e Liberia ! Ahasso le Palle (" The People and Liberty ! " " Down with the Balls ! "). And so menacing was the attitude of all classes, that Piero was obliged to seek safety in flight, first to Bologna, and afterwards to Venice, followed by a sentence of outlawry, which the Signory immediately passed. Thus was the rule of the Medici in Florence over- thrown, and a Repub lic established once more. It was a h loodl^^.s^^ct revolu tion, and comparatively free from excesses, only a few attempts being made to loot the houses of the leading Medici partisans. This singular absence of scenes of violence and licence in a crisis so intensely exciting, is ascribed by the common consent of historians to the hi gher n i oral temper whic h Savon- "•'^^^ L^i Prpfjifihinc ^f^i^ eirf^dlP^^y i^fii«^rl into the popular mi AMID THE THROES OF REVOLUTION Sy S avonaro la himself was still detained at Pisa on his embass y_to Cha rles. The Fy^(;>.no.h K'm g \y7iir 'deeplv intere sted in the visit of this remarkable, man. who had invested his o ^fi c^Qscegt into Italy with all the ^ nctity of a mission from Hea ven. Here, it seemed, was a prophet sent from tne Almighty, whose message hitherto had been encouraging to France. But Charles could scarcely have been prepared for the strange address which he now received when the dark- robed, sallow-faced, lustrous-eyed monk from Florence was ushered into his presence — an address in which word s of welcome were ominously m ingled with utter- ances of admonition and warning. He told Charles that he was the H eaven-chosen instrument for the refor matio n of Italy, whose advent he had prophesied for the three previous years ; and then he went on to say : " At length thou art come, O King, as the minister of God, the minister of justice. May thy coming prove to us altogether happy in its results. It fills with joy all servants of Christ, all lovers of justice, and all who are zealous for the life of piety. Go forward, then, glad, secure, and triumphant, since thou art sent by Him who triumphed on the cross for our salvation. But, most Christian King, give ear to my words and lay them to thy heart. The unworthy servant of God to whom those things have been revealed admonishes thee in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, and in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, that thou must in all things incline to mercy ; but most of all towards this city of Florence, which, although it labours beneath a heavy load of transgressions, contains many true servants of God, of both sexes. For their sake thou must preserve this city, that we may with more 88 SAVONAROLA tranquil mind pray for thee and draw down the bless- ing of God on this expedition. The same unworthy servant exhorts and admonishes thee to give all diligence in the defence and protection of the innocent, the widows, the orphans, and all who deserve mercy, but most of all to ijuard the honour of those devoted to Christ in the nunneries, lest through thee sin should more abound, and the strength vouchsafed to thee from on high be shattered. And if, O King, thou observe these things, God will increase thy temporal kingdom, grant victory to thy arms, and at last bestow upon thee the everlasting kingdom of heaven. But ii^t hou dost forget the work for which the Lordsends thee, , He will (»VinasP qiTIOthfir it^ ^-hy 2 k£ p ^^.^ J ^^^^ P^^^ upon thee Jiis«»ipath. These things I tellthee in the name of the Lord." Ch arles never fulfilled the san g ^uine , expectati ons which Savonarola entertained regarding him. There was nothing in his character and aims to warrant such expectations. He might be the scourge of God to afflict Italy for the treacherous intrigues of its princes, for its miserable dissensions and pervading corruption, but he lacked tl^f^ Ijji^'gfi llQbJ^Jty 0^ pjirpngA which might qualify him for any higher service. As an agent in restoring a righteous order in the Italian States, or in removing the abuses of the Church, he was utterly incompetent. Savo narola's ho pe in him was a sentimental delusion. And here we begin to see how the great iriar's reliance, which was now becoming confirmed, in the Di vine inspiration of his own for ecasts of^^e;^nts, was likely to prove a snare oi serious risk to himself and to his work ; and it is a pathetic reflection, which keeps forcing itself upon us from this stage AMID THE THROES OF REVOLUTION 89 onward, that the later usefulness of that lofty and splendid mind should have been marred as it was by a hallucination so devout and yet so deceptive. Savon- arola believed, and believed sincerely, that he knew the intentions of the Most High with respect to the French King's invasion, and he proclaimed his belief with unfaltering authority ; but it w^as a false con- fidence. The first patent indication which Charles ffave of his moral u nreliable ness was in the cool ~ -[ . II - — — '■ indifference with which, on his arrival at Pisa, he allowed its inhabitants to throw off their allegiance to Florence, thus aggravating the disorders and animos- ities which were already too rife in the land. It would appear, however, that by his powerful and solemn address Savonarola produced for the moment a favourable impression on the French King's mind ; and although he obtained no definite assurances on behalf of Florence, he returned to the city with faith still strong, and prepared to hold out some encouraging hopes. / CHAPTEE XI Charles VIII. in Florence On the I7f. b* of Novpjnhpr King- Charles e ntered F loren ce with his army, and the city was decked as for a festival in his honour. Banners waved from windows and balconies, brilliant draperies hung from roof to roof, a blaze of colour filled the streets and the piazzas through which he was to pass. Amid dense crowds that looked on with mingled wonder and fear, the glittering warrior host marched across the Ponte Vecchio, and on towards the Duomo — the artillery corps and their ponderous cannons; the Swiss moun- taineers carrying their burnished halberds ; the Gascon infantry with their flashing swords ; the French nobles, splendidly mounted and attired in mantles embroidered with gold; the cavalry and their formidable steeds; the tall Scottish and north-country archers with their long wooden bows — a disp lay q£ military pow er s uch a s h ad not been witnessed in F lorence for Attended by his bodyguard of a hundred men, and under a rich canopy, rode C harles himself on his war- horse, magnificently arrayed, with a cr own on his head and lance held level in his hand, as a token ^ at he cam e as a conq ueror. Despite his splendour of dress CHARLES VIII. IN FLORENCE 91 and equipage, the French monarch presented a figure unprepossessing ahnost to a gr otesque degr ee. He had a la rge head, b ut puny limbs. l^he Venetian Ambassad^ Coniarmi descri Bed him as insignificant in appearance, with an ugly face, lustreless eyes, enormous hooked nose, thick lips which were always open, and nervous twitching hands which were never still. Such in bodily presence was the royal guest whom the Florentines welcomed with occasional, though by no means enthusiastic, shouts of Viva Francia ! on that memorable day. After joining with the Signory in a service at the Cathedral, Charles was conducted to the Medici palace in the Via Larga, which had been prepared for his reception, while his troops were quartered in the houses of the people. Then at night the city was illuminated, and for two days thereafter there was general mirth and feasting, though behind all the gaietjrtK'^ soldiers' of the Republic lurked in secret, with arms ready in case of encroachment by the foreigners on the liberties which had just recently been won. Those liberties, it was soon seen, were imperilled not only by the insolejice of the French troops, but also by the manifest dispo sition of the. K ing to, sf mi re the reinstatement of Piero d^ Mftdi pj «.« f^. prinoft '^^p^iiin^^^ nn Fr^^^ Such a design aroused universal alarm, and an assembly of the principal citizens was held to protest against it and to devise measures for its prevention. Quarrels took place daily in the streets between the French soldiers and the populace, and in one of these, which arose out of the forced release of some prisoners of war, the Swiss infantry sallied forth 92 SAVONAROLA in martial strength, but met with such resistance from barricades erected across their path, and from showers of stones and other missiles hurled from housetops and windows, that they were forced to beat a retreat, awed by a sense of the terrible ordeal of having to fi ght with almost invisible foes in su ch a labyrihi'li'of n arrow^ thor ough in view of ' ihis menacing iiiood of feeling, Charle s found himself Qbl igfid ^'i abandon his proposal for Piero's restoration. He saw that he could no longer affect "To' treat Florence as a conquered city. Nevertheless the magistrates had the utmost difficulty in moderating his demands and confining them within such limits as would leave the independence of the Republic untouched. At length the issue of the negoti- ations turned on the settlement of those two points — the sum of money which Charles insisted on receiving, but which the Florentines deemed far too large; andj bhe claim pu t i Qr.w.ard_tjJ^ „ h av^e^ a represe ntative of France in the Florentine Assembly, whose presence and assent # shouldJtiejiecggaa£jU;a^^ claim felt to be in ^lera ble. When the Commissioners of the Republic remonstrated, Charles broke into a rage, and ordered his Ultimatum to be read. The Commissioners declared it to be impossible to comply with its con- ditions. " Then," cried the King, with growing passion, " we will blow our trumpets." Here Capponi stepped to the front, and, snatching the paper from the secret- ary's hand, he tore it in pieces, exclaiming, " And we will ring our bells." Such bold language, destined to be cherished with patriotic pride in the Florentine memory, re veal ed. ^Jto.- >jG har] g^.s. - tke^- i - n ' domi tftbjf c spirit ^ith whV^ hP had ^^^ deal, and he at once drew back from his irreconcilable attitude under cover of a coarse CHARLES VIII. IN FLORENCE 93 pleasantry on Capponi's name. It was at last agreed that the Kin g should be recognised as the Prot ector of Flo^jgji^e liberty, that he should be paid 120,000 florins, that Pisa and the other fortresses should be restored as soon as the war with Naples came to an end, and that the sentence of exile against Piero de Medici should be allowed to remairTtn f oi-ceT' The con- ditions of the treaty TKus"~arranged were formally sworn to in the Cathedral, and then the bells were rung, bonfires were lit, and there was great rejoicing. Still, all danger was not yet past. Charles and his army lingered in the city, giving rise to fresh sus- picion, and to irritation and disorder out of which grave consequences threatened to spring. Shops were closed, business was suspended, and citizens and soldiers were constantly on the point of coming: to open strif e i n the str eets. At this disfeacting and hazardous juncture oT* affairs, it was Savonarola who solved the difficulty and saved Florence. He had been doing his utmost in the pulpit to calm the public mind during the strained and anxious days through which the city had been passing; and now, when asked to use his influence with the French King and hasten his departure, he at once responded to the call and braved the risks. Making his way to the palace, and overcoming somehow the opposition of the officials and nobles, who dreaded the effect of his visit in diminish- ing their chances of plunder, he gained admission to the royal presence. He told Charles that his st ay was r^gngimgr ^fyf^f^^. injur y to the c Jtv and to his own enter- prise; that he was wasting time and forgetting the duty laid upon him by Providence. " Listen now," he said, "to the voice of God's servant. Go thy way 94 SAVONAROLA without delay, and do not bring ruin on this city, lest the anger of the Lord be roused against thee, and He choose another instrument to carry out His designs." By this prophet-like appeal he gained the result desired, and on 28th November Charles left Florence, and the citizens awoke as from a nightmare of anxiety. Ere they departed, however, the foreigners were guilty of an act of ruthless cupidity and destructive- ness. The su mptuously furnished Medici palac e was ransacke d of its treasures, and tr ansf ormed into a wreck, by ihe barons, generals, and attendants of the King. They seized the many priceless specimens of the arts with which the house abounded, and which had rendered it the admiration of strangers and one of the chief ornaments of the city. Exquisite pieces of fi,nii\9.j\i smilpture . vases, cameos, and gems of various kinds, more estimable for their workmanship than for the value of their material, shared in the wholesale spoliation ; and, in the words of Roscoe, " all that the assiduity and the riches of Lorenzo and his ancestors had been able to accumulate in half a century, was dissipated and demolished in a day." But the danger was removed, and the Florentines were glad. The independ ence of th e Republic was now safe; and Savonarola s place m the affections of the people was still" further confirmed by'^e^'eftbrt he had made to accompllsirnrat ehdi CHAPTER XII The Preacher as Lawgiver No sooner were the French gone than the interest of all classes in Florence was concentrated on the work of politi cal . re-CQJQS-tru ction which lay waiting to be done. Now that the rule of the Medici was overthrown, the government of the St ate had to be qr ^ ^ised on a new^ b ^sis : and here the difficulties that usually attend a revolutionary movement arose. The air was full of excitement, and in the public mind, long unaccustomed to habits of self-reliance in political action, there was no'^efinite conception as to the form w^hich the new constitution should take. The prevailing desire was to secure fg^ eypr y respectable citiz ^p r>nt nn)y the right to vote in the electi on of his rulers, but also a chance of personally enjoying a short term of rule. This was now the Florentine ideal of liberty, but how to get it realised was far from clear. The members of the Signory appointed under Piero de Medici had been obliged to remain in office and ad- minister affairs until the dangers of the French occupa- tion were past. Then they summoned a Parlamento, an assembly of the whole body of the people. The great bell tolled, and the citizens crowded into the piazza in front of the Signorial palace, to hear and 95 96 SAVONAROLA decide upon the proposals which the Signory, from the ringhiera, or balcony near the palace steps, had to submit. This was the ancient form of procedure, which, while it gave the appearance of a free share in the government to every citizen, was yet liable to be turn edTlb account for sellish ends by designing politi- cians and by ambitious men, who by plausible arts were able to gain the ear and sway the votes of the undiscerning multitude. As yet, however, no other course suggested itself than that of advancing along the lines rendered familiar by traditional usage, and accordingly the fi rst attempts at reconstru ction were somewhat crude. 'The cniet" measure recommelided to Itl'W Ais^iiiiibly was the ap poi ntment of a C ommitt ee of Twgili^^the Acc op ia t ori, as they were callejl ; and to these it was proposed to grant the right oi Balia, a sort of dictatorial power, with authority toTel^ the Signory and the other leading^fficials, the Accopiatori themsel ves t(71Gie*Q2S^ed^§;^^r^ and the members of the SignQj; x£very two_ months. The people, el ated by the new consciousness of inde pffldence and direct contr ol in State a ffairs, passed the measure with accla- mation. E' In those first efibrts of political reorganisation avonarola took no active part. He was busily occu- pied in endeavouring to assuage the popular unrest, and in relieving the distress caused by the general sus- pension of business. He made special appeals in his sermons on behalf of the needy, entreating the rich to give of their abundance, and to sacrifice their pomps and luxuries, in order to meet the destitution existing around them. He urge d that the shops should be re- npPT^Pi^]^ -y^r^yV prnvirjft^^ tor"^ e Unemp loyed, and collec- THE PREACHER AS LAWGIVER-^ 97 tions made in all the churches, declaring that, though it was the will of God that evil customs and unjust laws should be abolished, it was still imperative on men to fulfil their obvious duties. " This," he said, " is a time for words to give place to deeds. The Lord hath said, I was an hungered and ye gave Me no meat ; I was naked and ye clothed Me not. He never said, Ye built Me not a beautiful church or a fine convent. The work of renovation, then, must begin with charity." Now, as ever, he strove to enforce the practical side of religion, and laboured to promote the welfare of the city by infusing the Christian spirit into its ordinary social life. Soon, however, he was drawn once more into the full current of political activity. From the outset the newly-framed constitution would not work. Its ar- rang'^niBlitS WBl'^ 6o6"vague and loosely defined ; and amid the friction and discontent thereby engendered the task of remoulding the government had to be begun afresh. The serious disadvantage was that th e sixty years of Medici rule had deprive d the prominen t men of ^ any lesT^^^^Vlmm Ift legislative busi ness, and there-*^ fore there was no man competent to take the lead. A school of young political thinkers, with the subtle Machiavelli among them, was growing up ; yet they were but theoretical students, who had no practical acquaintance with men or matters of State ; while the conspicuous citizens who had held the magistracy were familiar only with the bare routine of official duty, and utterly unversed in the making of laws. During the discussions which arose, the Vp.npi^jfi. n form of g overn- ^^^^1 W^? vopQQforily ^]^ nrnr^jgf arl as au example which it might be possible in some measure to adopt ; and in 7 98 SAVONAROLA the heat of controversy over this question time was being wasted and people's minds were becoming con- fused. Then came Savo u j arola's unique and supreme op por- tunity, which he felt irresistibly impelled to use. Ever alive to the movements of life and feeling around him, he had watched the commotion keenly, and pondered the problems which had to be faced. He realised the danger which hung over the city so long as its govern- ment remained unsettled, for he knew that the adherents of th^jiLiijtfdjer, who had been allowed to return un- molested to their homes mainly through the forbear- ance which he had enjoined, were waiting and hoping for the cha nce of restoring the Medici to power, or of seizing the reins of ^ government in tfieir own hands. He knew, moreover, that the thoug^ y of men wer e turnin g to himself for guidan ce in their perpl exity. Once more the force of strong cnaracter, intellectual capacity, and transparent disinterestedness was press- ing the task of leadership upon the eloquent monk who had already proved a tower of strength in the exigencies of the commonwealth. Counsel, assistance, and even commands, were expected from him in the difficult task of remodelling the constitution, and it was less possible for him now than ever to stand by and be silent. Accordingly, on the third Sunday in Advent of this same year 1494, he began to speak out on the public questions of the hour, and in doing so he assumed the authoritative tone of a lawgiver directly inspired by God. In his sermon on that day, and the other ser- mons that followed, he ma de it evident that he had studied matters of politics to some purpose, and that THE PREACHER AS LAWGIVER 99 he had a surprisingly cl ear grasp of political prin ciples. Discussing 'the respective merits of monarchy and re- publicanism, he d eclared monarc h y to be the best fo rm of go vernment when the monarch is a g ood man, but when the monarch is a bad man the worst form pos- sible. " In Italy, and especially in Florence," he said, " where both strength and intellect abound, where men have sharp wits and restless spirits, the government of one could only exist as a tyranny. . . . The only government that can suit us is the government of xhe citizens, and one in which all have a share." He warned the Florentines against electing one man as chief to domineer over all the rest. He told them to purify their hearts, give heed to the common good, forget private interests, and assured them that if they reformed the city in this earnest temper it would be- come more glorious than ever yet it had been, and they should begin the reformation of all Italy, and spread their wings over the earth to reform all nations ; and breaking out into prayer, he cried, " Open, O Lord, the heart of this people, that they may understand those things which are in my mind, and which Thou hast revealed and commanded." Then he went on to avow that his sole ^r eason for interferi ng with matters of Staf f "w^f^iS hi.s p/i>n^^rn for men's salvat ion. He Iiadno care for ^ politics except as an ing tr\imfi!l1i , ^f jm>rali ty' ^^ temporal good, he in- '^isted7 must he subordinate to the moral and religious good on which it depends. " If ye have heard it said " — as it had been said by Cosimo de Medici — '•' that States cannot be governed by Pater Nosters, remember that this is the theory of tyrants, of men who are the enemies of God and the common weal, a theory in- lOO SAVONAROLA vented to oppress and not to elevate and free the city. On the contrary, if y e would have a good go_v ernment, ye must submit to Go d. If it were not so, I should certainly not concern myself for a State that should not be subject to Him." At last he came to the practical point, and announced his conviction that a. Ora.nrl (Inn noil nrx^ i.ha Venetian pl an was tlie best, adapted for Flo rence. He believed, he said, that the Venetian model would be the one chosen. But they need not be ashamed to imitate the Venetians and their constitution, " because they too received it from the Lord, from whom cometh every- thing that is good. Ye have seen that ever since that government has existed in Ven ice no divisions or dis- sensions of any sort have arisen in that c ity ; and tteret'ore we must believe that it was according to the will of God." "" The views thus propounded from the Cathedral pulpit Savonarola afterwards published in his Trattato circa il Beggimento e Governo delta Cittd di Firenza (Treatise respecting the Rule and Government of the City of Florence). They were views in which he was strongly supported by two men who stood out most clearly as representatives of the popular party — Antonio Soderini and Francesco Valori. Soderini, a d optor of law who had served for some years as Ambassador at Venic e, had been fa.vgiira>>1y (Tnprf>j;;,^prl by what he saw of the method of government there, and was anxious to obtain a trial for it in Florence. Valori was an old parti san of the Med ici family, and had filled many posts under Lorenzo, but partly through disgust with Piero's misrule, and partly through warm religious sympathy, he had become THE PREACHER AS LAWGIVER loi on ^^of Savonarola's T ym^f. Hp.vnf,prl fnlln-^gftrs He was a man of no great mental strength, but honest, daring, large-hearted, and an ardent friend of republican liberty. These, along with Capponi and many other men of note, were delighted to have the dim ideas floating in their minds put into definite shape and confidently championed by one so eminent. The feeling of satis- faction was shared by the general community, who were relieved to find that jbheir a,(lnnirpd Frf\ (riroja mo was 4)repared to guide them bv a clear and intelligi ble nonrsft ni^t ^f th eir bewilderm ent. There was ai; ^. op ^ posing party, however, headed by Guid' Antoni^JTes- pucci, a distinguished member of the legal profession, who maint ained that a Grand Council after the manner of thft Vf^^fiti^.Tis w ould be t oo democratic an institu- tio n fqr suo^h a jrity as Florence,! whose lower classes were more numerous and restless, and also less con- trollable in temper, than the Ymetians were. This party leaned rather to an olio- amhical form of poli ty. But they were left with slender prospects of success after Savonarola had spoken. His powerful advocacy of the Venetian model weighed decisively in turning the scale. The leading members of the Signory con- sulted him at San Marco, and even asked him to meet with them at the Palazzo and preach. Then one day he invited the magistrates and all the people, except- ing the women and children, to assemble in the Cathe- dral. He exhorted his immense audience to lay to heart the lessons of the past, and so to use their power that freedom, hence forw ard should not be the privilege of the few for the oppression of the many, but a univ^£gal_benefit. And after this introduction, he proceeded to lay down what he believed to be the ">*■. I02 SAVONAROLA igur great princi:p les which formed the groundwork r^^ al l true g-ove rnment : — '^ (1) The ff^^.r <^f <^^d f^rl the reformation of manners ; (2) ze al for popular govern ment and the public good, above _^)}„ private interes^T (3) a _^eneral amnesty, whereby the friends of the past Govern meni" should be absolved from all their crimes and have their fines remitted, and indulgence be shown towards those who are indebted to the State; (4) a form of universal gov ernment which shou1(^ (;;, (7| T) pi ;- fi^ , end a ll citizens who, according to t h e ar) ci, Qnt statu tes, had a right to share J in pijMic^airs. He brought his discourse to a close by a clear and emphatic recommendation once more of a Grand Coun- cil after the manner of the Venetians, modified by such arrangements as might render it more suited to the genius and temper of the Florentine people. This pronouncement virtually settled the question. The air ^of auth ority with which it was given forth, sustained as liT was by the recollection of the mar- vellous vindications of the preacher's former utter- ances, mightily impressed the popular mind. Men of action and knowledge of the world were amazed at the large view and firm mastery displayed in dealing with a problem so tangled and complex. The result was seen in the speedy adoption of the very measures which Savonarola had proposed. On th^,23rd of December a law was passed by an overwhelming majq nty; ' establ ishing " a" ' GT gg: L Coil lKil l eudow ^d' with powe5!^.n''p1^o.t. thfi f fhief ma^a-istrates'''^ :^ ^ntrol the actigjauoLthe State. E ligibil ity to membershijuin this Council was restricted to tlie cTass~brcitizens who ha:±Tea;ched twenty-nine years pf aj^e and had paid THE PREACHER AS LAWGIVER 103 taxes, and who also ranked as benefiziati, i.e. had in their own person or in the person of their immediate ancestors enjoyed the benefit of holding, or being proposed for, one of the higher offices. In view of such a provision, it ^^^m^hf^ P«-i. {- tystem of ta xation. This was a question which Savonarola held to be acutely press- ing, and with painstaking earnestness he strove to obtain the substitution of some more just arrangement ^Jja place of the arbitrary methods till then in force. As the result of his efforts, a new law was passed w hich^" regulated all assessments by a unifo rm prin- ciple, and, by'Tevymg a payment of ten per cent, on aift" Thcome from real property, provided for a more impai::t iafl distribution of the public burdens. This ^ — was a reform "which allayed many a grievance, and proved an untold bp. npfjt to Flo rp.nce for many a day. It was, moreover, decreed that every enactment of the State, instead of being drawn out as heretofore in Latin, the language of scholars, should be written in Italian, the tongue of the people. ^— .^^.. On another point of considerable importance Savon- arola exert ed his infl uence — the establishment of a righ t of appeal in the case of political ou nces. In the Council tor dealing with such offences the ancient statute required a majority of two-thirds ere a heavy sentence could be pronounced. This was what was styled the Law of the Six Beans — the Sei Fave, beans being the means by which voting was conducted in Florence. Savonarola's fear was that a court so small, the members of which, moreover, were changed every few months, might be liable to impulses of party THE PREACHER AS LAWGIVER 105 feeling and betrayed into acts of injustice towards political opponents; and by ad vocating a right of appeal he endeavoured to avoid ttiat da nger. He gained'^nis object so far. The right of appeal was for mally decreed , though not pre'tfl'SGly 111 thu ftWm which he desired. His proposal was that a special Council of Eighty should be chosen from the members of the Great Council, to serve as a check on the abso- lute authority of the Six Beans, believing that such a tribunal would be less readily swayed by factious bitterness on the one hand, or by outbursts of popular vehemence on the other. But the law, as ultimately passed, enacted that the Great Council itself was the body to which the appeal should be made. Thus step by step the fibrin of th^ nftw p.onsf.itntion of Florence w;a s built up. It was a work of several months', absorbing attention and exciting lively de- bate among all ranks in the city ; but the guiding spirit in it all was the Prior of San Marco. Every fresh measure introduced was preceded by one or more sermons from him, in which the subject was handled with a point, vigour, and practical insight into the requirements of the situation which strongly commended it to the popular intelligence. Savonarola treated the questions of life with the mind of a lay- man rather than that of an ecclesiastic. He had in him the spirit of the earlier monks. The monks were originally laymen pure and simple, and it was only after they had existed for centuries that they became infected with the ecclesiastical spirit, and contracted the narrow professionalism of view by which the ecclesiastical spirit is so frequently characterised. It is probable that he was in frequent consultation with ^ io6 SAVONAROLA the public-spirited men who were actively engaged in meeting the exigencies of the time, and many of whom placed great reliance on his sincerity and wisdom. Yet obviously his was the ruling^ _ anim atin g mind . His ideas, his very words, ^ere echoed in the d'e- liberations of the Signorial palace, and the decisions reached were but the formal reproduction of the proposals which he had advanced. He stood now in ^ position hithert o unprecedented in the history of Christendom — that of a ^ preacher dictating from the »|ip i:)1pit thf^. p olic y and business of a State, there was no abatement of his zeal for the moral and spiritual elevation of the people ; he was still fervently intent on proclaiming the great truths of religion and win- ning men into obedience to God. But profoundly fl.nvi(^i^.c^ for hh^. YT^J fare , of^b he city, and positively convinced of the . P iyj^ ^^ enlighten ment given him, he was impelled to assume ^^he function of legislative directo r, and to use his _po wer.as a relig-ious. teac her m establishin g a form of goverm nent^^which he be- lieved to bejn acco rdance with the will of God. His utterances in the Cathedral rang witn an accent of Heaven-born inspiration which never faltered. He stood there and spoke as the prophet of the Lord, like another Moses, another Samuel, proclaiming the behests of the Eternal King whose loyal subjects he wished the Florentines to be ; and, conscious in himself of no self- aggrandising aims, bent only on fou nding^ a hea lthier fin(\ hg ^pier civic and politic al life on t^g ^sT ,^re principles of j Uftti Cifi ni}[^"V^g^^^'^V »r <^«« I he gave forth his judg- ments on the questions at issue with an enthusiasm so U contagious, and an energy of conviction so overpowering, as to compel general assent and strike opposition dumb. THE PREACHER AS LAWGIVER 107 And many competent witnesses, free from suspicion of bias in Savonarola's favour, have declared their admiration of the form of government established in Florence by his means. Professor Villari quotes the testimony of such eminent political thinkers as Machiavelli, Giannotti, and Francesco Guicciardini — themselves Florentines — in proof of the wise, moderate, and balanced character of the remodelled c onstitu tion, which avoided alike the extremes of aristocratic exclusiveness and democratic turbulence, and secured the largest amount of privilege and well- ordered fre edom compatible with the circumst ances of t he tim e. It has been the frankly expresseS verdict of many since that the political system then framed was the best and most just that the Florentine people ever enjoyed. The chief defect detected in it, both by contemporary and later writers, was its fai lure to jpro- vide . for a Qonfolonie/re, or Pffipjld^^^ ^^^ lif^» or at least a President whose tenure of offip ft-gV»r>n1r1 extend over a period of y e ^ys instead of on ly over a few mojj ^t^s . Yet even those who have advanced this criticism have been constrained to acknowledge that, in the condition of feeling and of parties then existing in Florence, the difficulties connected with such a pro- vision, particularly the difficulty of selection, would have been a serious peril at the outset of the new regime. The wonder ever remains that a preaching friar, whose vocation afforded no special training in the busmSss 75f ' Stat6,' should Have been the^jmoving spirit angTjtresidmg genius in reorganising the Re- public on lines so sagacious and, at that stage of history, so practically sound. CHAPTEK XIII The Dream of a Theocracy A REVOLUTION had been accomplished and a republi- ^ can government restored to Florence, and all without the deplorable ^-^^^Qoc^no r^^ noi*' P^^^ftdf'T^j ^^^' blf^fnl^hnl which in those days were the usual accompaniments of sudden po litical change . Thanks to the exertions of Savonarola^ partisan ' lury and popular violence had be en kept under a singutaT*^jTT"Kappy restraint. The refoun3ingofaTree*'Tonsn'fu^ the citizens with emphatic demonstrations of joy ; and to mark the opening of a new era in the history and for- tunes of the city, the famous bronze statue of Judith and Holofernes by Donatello, which had formerly be- longed to the Medici, was set up at the gateway of the Signorial palace, bearing an inscription which stated that it had been placed there by the citizens as a memorial of the safety of the commonwealth. In the meantime, amid all the stjaia- of .iJjJTefii^ng the -rwnr]^ ^f political reconstructi on, a remarkable effect had been produced on Savonarola's own mind. We have seen how, in those exciting months at the close of 1494 and the beginning of 1495, the Floren- tines of all ranks had put themselves under his guid- ance and accepted his leadership as the messenger of 108 ""v.^.— — THE DREAM OF A THEOCRACY 109 HAy/^T) in tit) p Hn^'^g^^ thfiir L'tr" This re ady sub - Qjyyggj^^gjlg^s on their part, and the enthusiastic con- fidence reposed in him, woke into new energy and vividness a conception which had hovered before his thought for many years. Ever since he found his true D O , wer in t he ];;>,i,4l^j,t Jt had been the cherished aim of his heart to convert Florence into a city of the Heavenly King. He ^^-^fliltfiyi llf ^[ thftnPT-aPv a strictly ordered C hristij ftnState. in which ^^uyaaj^uaJite- should be su ppress ed, social and civic life be ruled by the precepts of the Gospel, charity, righteousness, and the fear of God be enthroned in men's hearts, and private intftrp.st sap.rifidprl in thp n^^^^HTI 3^^^ And now that he had attained his extraordinary position as virtual a rbiter o^ the pit:y.'s desti nies, he was encouraged to believe that the time had come for translating this fair dream into a reality. That unique concurrence of circumstances which placed him where he stood — was it not a sign from above that the grand task which had long fired his hopes was at last made possible and should now be essayed ? Florence was a city be- loved of God, a peculiar object of celestial favour and care, destined to be the scene of Divine manifestations and to stand as a w i^tness of the truth to all the Sta tes (liCCaiAd. That he had long believed, and often ex- pressly declared, and the opportunity, as it seemed, had arrived for lifting the chosen city to the full proof of its privilege in the designs of the Supreme. He would change Florence into a home of moral rectitude and political freedom ; he would rally its citizens to- gether as the subjects of the Most High, and the reign of justice and purity would begin. He himself would be the viceroy of Heaven, declaring the will of the no SAVONAROLA Invisible Lord, and enforcing the laws which he was commissioned to reveal. It was a bold idea, and there was boldness also in the steps taken to carry it out. The first announcement of it gave rise to an extra- ordinary exhibition of enthusiasm. It was in one of his early political sermons from the Book of Haggai, during the Advent of ] 494. Discoursing on the pre- ference which some might be imagined to entertain for a monarchical form of government, and holding his audience for a while in suspense, the preacher ex- claimed, "Well, Florence, God is willing to satisfy thee, and to give thee a Head, a King to govern thee. This King is Chris t. The Lord will govern thee Him- self, if thou consent, O Florence. Suffer thyself to be guided by Him. . . . Take Christ for thy Master, and remain subject to His law." Then, after enlarging on the spiritual and temporal wealth and the mighty influence for good over Italy and other nations which the acceptance of such Divine sovereignty would bring, he clinched his appeal by a direct and thrilling challenge : " Florence, Jesus Christ, who is King of the universe, hath willed to become thy King in parti- cular. Wilt thou have Him for thy King ? " The multitude, swayed by one irrepressible feeling, burst into a great shout, Viva Gesu Cristo nostra Re ; and the exclamation in which they thus proclaimed Jesus Christ as the Monarch of their choice became the watchword of the new order of things. Having received a response so ardent to his lofty conception, Savonarola addressed himself with char- acteristic decision of purpose to the means necessary for its fulfilment in actual fact. His sermons even on political subjects rang with solemn pressing calls to THE DREAM OF A THEOCRACY iii the p'^r!" ^?iiiu tip tihp hftiivrliti f)f tihru ir^rfa^-^^^^ which, at his challenge, they had so warmly embraced. He made it abundantly clear that hi s zeal in la bour- ing for the i nstitution of a fre e ^^^g pyern ment was act uatecT s'oIely^W a d|^'sire t^ e p^^ure the triu mph of m or^J iE I ^^JjIil'^l'^^^^ which are th e s ^t)lQ. founda- tions of national well-b eing^' He summoned the citi- zens of Florence to put down vice .with a rigorous hand, to sweep obscenity from their streets, to reform their manners, lay aside their luxury, their indecent attire and gaudy finery, and, instead of pursuing frivolity and pleasure, to give themselves to the wor- ship and service of God. He even went so far as to exhort the magistrates to bring all the harlots into some public place with the sound of trumpet, to punish gamblers, to pierce the tongues of blasphemers, to pro- hibit balls and dancing — injunctions which betrayed a touch of that ascetic severity from which he never was quite free. Thus from the pulpit of the Duomo he strove to inaugurate the ifl^ i^ J p oh'tv which he conceived himself charged by a Divine warrant to set up. With the political excitement there was now blended a strange religious fervour, and politi cs and relig ioQ_were curiously mingled toprether in the sermons which thecrowds gathered to hear. Tliose crowds, indeed, swelled to an unprecedented degree, and within the Cathedral wooden galleries had to be erected in the form of an amphitheatre, to provide a larger amount of room. Not only from the city itself, but from the country round, men and women of all grades hurried in the early morning and stood waiting in the piazza, filling the space between the lofty but then unfinished fa9ade 112 SAVONAROLA of the great building and the quaint octagonal church of San Giovanni Battista — long so familiarly known as the Baptistery — with its black and white marbles and its marvellously embellished bronze doors, which Michael Angelo declared worthy to be the g ates of Paradis e ; while Gi otto's Cam panile, with its rich colour, delicate tracery, and matchless grace, rose " fair and light as a lily stalk " against the steel-blue sky. It was bewildering to see that mass of people, says Burlamacchi, coming with jubilee and rejoicing to the sermon as if to a wedding. Then, when the doors were opened and the throng pressed in, " the silence was great in church, each one going to his place; and he who could read, with a taper in his hand, read the service and other prayers. And though many thousand people were there collected together, no sound was to bfi, Ja>eard, until the arrival of the cTiildren, who sang hymns with so much sweetness that heaven seemed to have opened. Thus they waited three or four hours till the Padre entered the pulpit." Very seldom did the huge and eager assembly fail to experience some vivid sensation. Sometimes Savon- arola was himself carried away by an overmastering ecstasy of s piritual rapture, and on such occasions astonishing enects were produced on his audience. Not only the common people, but the educated, persons of rank, artists, and men of letters, betrayed signs of the deepest emotion, and gave way to sobbing and tears ; and Lor ^zo Violi. the shor| ,}^a,nd -y^rj^tpr who took notes of the .serm ons, was obliged repeatedly ^o explain, " At this pomT I was overcome with weep- ing and could not go on." Not a few, as they left the church, tore off their ornaments, and gave them THE DREAM OF A THEOCRACY 113 as an offering to God, or took them to the magistrates for the use of the State. As for the orato r himself, the ex haustion result inc y ircfj] ] nnrh o^t'-^^r?^ tension of feeling not seldom laid him prostrate for several days. It is not surprising that at such a period, and under emotions so intense and overpowering, there should have arisen stori es of supernatural won ders and amazing appearances as frequently manifest while Savonarola was preaching. It was said that some beh eld a ngels hovering over him ; that the Virgin Mary ners^If was seen blessing him with uplifted hand while he pronounced the benediction on the worshipping assembly ; that palms of martyrdom crowned his head. Such tales of marvel, though due, no doubt, to the high-strung excitement to which the imagination of his hearers was often wrought, are yet a testimony to the seraphic fervour and sacred passion with which he spoke; and they reveal the feeling entertained of the rare sanctity and greatness of the man. So much of truth, at least, must lie behind; for legends, as has been said, are like the clouds that gather upon the mountain summits, and show the height and take the shapes of the peaks about which they cling. The leg i s lative measures he prop osed for the govern- ment of th(^ o.it.v: fllnfl'thp. mips hf> laid r|(;;>\ Yp f or the p ^ivate... .ft*^i f^'^ioi^l Ijfe of the people, were enforced in the name of God, whose commands he unhesi- tatingly asserted them to be. Preaching, as he most frequently did, from the books of the Old Testament, he assumed a tone of authority in giving to the warnings, threatenings, and appeals of the 8 114 SAVONAROLA Psalms and Prophets an i n f Pj^rrAJ^fiit i ^^ ^ 1 Hifitil 3^--" PP^ ^ ^" able^gJbisuoSiLS^me and to the state of things around him. They were all as plainly and intentionally ad- dressed to Florence, to Rome, to Italy, as they had been to Israel and Judah. And in support of his title to speak as an organ of prophetJ^uJll^l ^ in^ ^•^' ^^ j he again and again called attention to the predictions uttered by him which had been signally, and even literally, fulfilled. He made striking use also of the visions which had been granted to him in hours of spiritual brooding and prayer, when the gleam of some momentous truth or the forecast of some critical event broke in upon his entranced soul. Indeed, from this point onward his references to those visions, and his dependence on them as a ground of authority, became a more predominant feature in his preaching. In ijiose visions Savonarola himself had a nrofound lief. Time and the knowledge gamed by historical research have amply vindicated the honest purity and simplicity of his character; and the theory is no longer rationally tenable, that he was driven by vanity or by love of power to take refuge in the deliberate pretension to prophetic enlightenment and super- natural gifts. It does seem strange that a man of such strong intellectual force, wide learning, and clear practical sagacity should have carried his faith in Divine apparitions and revelations so far as he did. We have to remember, however, the^^ep mystical tendency of his nature, observable even in hi^^ouOi7* wliTch grew"" wUh the growing years, fostered by many a long vigil and by much fasting and prayer. We have to remember the traditions of monastic piety amid which his religious life had y THE DREAM OF A THEOCRACY 115 mainly developed, and also the pecTjlia^r influences of^^his a jge. We can conceive how, out of his pro- found mysticism and his strenuous endeavour toget into vital touch with thfijliyine mind and will, his conviction 01 actual communications from heaven was born. And we can see, moreover, how this conviction, once formed, was sustained and confirmed in his view by the ready and reverent acceptance by the p^eople of al l ^ t h at ,, he , ^declared ag (^ivine l^y^ ^ SY ^Sili ^ A to his SOUL Itwas an extravagance of the religious imagin- ation, into which he glided by the slow but steady pressure of the atmosphere of inward longing and out- ward environment in which he lived. Yet how sincere he was in it all is sufficiently evident from the style of argument he employs in his Com pendium JB evela- tionu Tn, the singular work in which the credentials of Iiis prophetic mission were offered to the world. This work was published in August J^495, at the very height of his career, when, after guMj|jig^the city t hrough its mo s t urgent p ol i tic a l ^ d i ffi c u^^ he was in Ine tuiT current or nis fabours for thereforma- tion of its manners. The book opens with a distinct avowal of hi s power of p r ^ r l iV.t^ ng- future e vents by Di yine inspiratio n. God, he asserts, reveals the things of the future to those whom He specially chooses — in the first place, by infusing a certain supernatural l ight, by means of which the prophet perceives that tiie ^matters revealed to him are true and proceed from God, just as the light of reason makes the philosopher certain of his first principles and the ordinary man certain that two and two make four ; secondly, by flashing that which He wishes him to know and foretell, either directly upon the prophet's ii6 SAVONAROLA mind, or through the medium of a sy r y hnlinp] Y ir^^'*^^ or by means of words heard, and known to be com- municated through the ministry of angels. Having stated these as his fundamental positions, Savonarola passes on to speak of ^^^"^"^nr "r thn ^^^^-y^^^^^^^^^^^ h,r a^r\ fnr f-,]^P n'Y1>|0' fnrfL nf J\\f^ vmrA]^|.inr.« to Italy, and of himself as the messenger through whom the revelation should be conveyed, adducing in proof of his claim the memorable instances in which his announcements of the Divine purpose had been verified by the actual course of events. But the extraordinary part of the work is that in which he describes his vis ionary jou rne y to Parft , ^ ise. a journey which he pictures liimselras ha ying undertaken as the_ ambaa- sado r of Florence to the Virg in Mary at the court of heaven. The whole narrative is an allegorical fancy, the gist of which had already been given in a sermon in May 1495. Its chief interest consists in the dialogue which the writer represents as having taken place between himself and the Tempter, who meets him in the guise of a holy hermit, and who suggests to him every possible objection to the con^: firiAnr?e bft hfl.s iyi the possession of a sup ernatural g;ift. Is he not misguided by a certain simplicity, or trifling with God's truth in his predictions ? If he is not a deceiver, is he not moved by a spirit of melancholy, or by a disordered imagination? Or is he not himself deceived by the power of the devil ? Is he not professing to reveal things which it is not given to mortal man to know, or making a cunning use of the knowledge he has gained by his friendship with politicians and princes ? and so on. One by one, with painstaking care and directness, Savonarola THE DREAM OF A THEOCRACY 117 endeavours to refute those objections and to establish his honesty and good faith. At one point he makes the solemn asseveration, " If ever I have used decep- tion in my preaching, may God blot me out of the Book of Life." There is high colouring in the scene of the heavenly court and the jewelled throne on which the Virgin appears as the Protecting Saint of Florence; and the descriptions given have a graphic vigour and picturesqueness of detail which not seldom remind the reader of Dante's Paradiso. The book closes with a Divine message to the Florentine people, predicting that after trials and tribulations their city would come forth more glorious than before. Savonarola renewed the defence of his pronb^tic cl aims i n another tractate published two years later, in 1497, entitled Dialogo delta Veritd Profetica. It was an attempt to stateand justify the gro unds of cer tainty he h ad in th e truth of his revela i^ions ; but the argument drew ""fiith " Into a labyrinth of logical subtleties which proved the extreme dijBficulty of establishing on a clear basis of reason the peculiar authority he assumed as the chosen medium of Divine communications. It is not necessary at the present day to question the reality of Savonarola's forecasts of future events. There is abundant testimony from his own times to the striking and repeated anticipation of changes in the civil and political affairs of Italy which ere long actually transpired. Yet when we take into account the clear-seeing, watchful alertness of his mind, his exp.eptioTia,] insi^i^ ht iT^to the moral forces at work in his ^generation, his large grasp, derived from constant study of Scripture history and prophecy, of the Ii8 SAVONAROLA principles which underlie the workings of Providence, to2:ether with his comparative freedom from the hlhidinpr ^jfp.ot of p^ ,rtisan passion .and p re j udice, it need not astonish us that he should have been able to utter many predictions which after events proved true. All this is perfectly intelligible apart from the influence of any supernatural insight, into the belief of which he was unconsciously deluded by his own mystic ideas. The great mass of the people, however, were power- fully impressed by the claims he advanced, and large numbers looked up to him with profoundest reverence as their guide. Nor was it only in the pulpi t that SavQ Q ar ola e?:Qr cised hig, pQ-yy^j-. Intent on his theo- cratic conception, he laboured to relieve the unjust burdens under which many hi the'cit^' 'wav^ aTrtTering. Wh^re 'Otirist rules, the needy and the hard-pressed should be helped; and, acting on that principle, he threw himself into the work of establishin|c r the fiLp nte di JPiet a, an insti tution designed to deliver th e poorer classes froinffie[^|*exc^^ mone y-lend^ s. He made strenuous efforts to procure subscriptions for this purpose, and succeeded also in getting regulations passed, which, while liberating borrowers from their oppressive debts, provided for the obtaining of loans at a moderate and reasonable rate of interest. Education also was a subject to which he devoted sp ecial atten tion, his aim being to gi ve it a m ore pa.rnpsf. mrir^,] n.r)d T'^h'ori nus cha racter. He adopted every means in his power to purffy the literature used in the schools, and to withdraw the rising generation from frivolous pursuits and sensuous pleasures. Thus, by ceaseless activities of various kinds, the THE DREAM OF A THEOCRACY 119 indefatigable reformer str ove to infuse a higher spirit in t^j t^e ,, |i ,fe, ,of , thecitv. and io acl Vance the sway of Christ as Lord andTGng of the State. His enthusiasm communicated itself to multitudes in every rank of society, and ere long his consecrated exertions, which involved a severe tax on his strength, bore fruit in a complete and astonishing change in the manners of the Florentine people. Libertines abandoned their vices ; roystering youths became decorous and devout; the theatres and taverns were emgiifid ; card-playing and dice-throwing aisappeared ; women laid aside their costly ornaments and flaunting attire, and dressed plainly ; fasts were obse rved with new solemnity, and grew so frequent that the butchers were almost ruined. Hymns were sung in the streets instead of the licentious songs and carnival choruses hitherto so popular. Artisans occupied their leisure hours in reading the Bible and religious books. T he c huj^cJa^s o^erfl^^SKad, and shops were closed during tlie'time of preaching. Bankers and merchants were constrained to restore the gai n uniustly acquire^- D eadly enemies were reconciled. (|A^ fervour of charit^ seemed to be universal, and the money Whl'(ih (JCW'S5?wise would have been squandered on luxury and finery, or lost at the gambling-table, now found its way into the alms-boxes for behoof of the poor. There was, moreover, an extraordinary rus h for admission into the convents. In San Marco itself the number of monks Increased from fifty, as at first, to over two hundred and thirty, and among the newly enrolled brethren were the young sons of several noble families, as well as men of mature age who had won distinction in literature, science, or politics. 120 SAVONAROLA This extraordinary Tn qr^][ n,nd reliiyious reformat ion wa p, T^ot a,lfnaAj-,]-ip^ °1ipprfiri"^ Considering the life- long influence for good exerted on the men who supported Savonarola in his higher work among the people, and who cherished his memory and adhered to his principles after he was gone, — many of them men of real weight of character and of more or less note in learning or public affairs, — it is a reasonable conclusion that there must have been hundreds of others, scattered through society, whose lives were refined and purified by the great movement of which he was the heart and soul. There must have been a very powerful and ge nuine revival of god liness. Nevertheless, it has to be adnnttecl that tke outward amendment, everywhere so patent, did not represent. a correspondingly ma rked a nd widespread s piritual vitali ty. Events gradually showed that tbe yok e^of religi ous austerity Savonarola imposed was one whick the i^^i orentine s were not prepar ed by |,heir own living^ cor vi^t.ir>p« fn g^j^giri The standard of conduct on which he insisted wasjLQO m^ijaafttic; it lef t scant room for the Jijsal thy play of natural human feeling. There was too much repression in tne^system^of things which he sought to inaugurate. It was too dependent for its practical efficiency on the influence of legal prohibitions, and more especially on the coercion of supernatural fears. It was an attempt to jenforce by the sheer pressure of authorit y a degree of m orality which could only be gen uinely attaine d by fr ee personal ^ choice. And while the magic of his eloquence, the prestige of his mission as the spokesman of Heaven, the admiration and gratitude evoked by his priceless services in saving and reconstructing the Republic, enabled him to wield a dictatorial ascendancy THE DREAM OF A THEOCRACY 121 and to effect a marvellous ref orm m the habits, and iTi fl.TTrLP.|;g n f | ^1^ ^ p.iti7p|i s. yet to a large extent the change thus wrought lacked the elements necessary to give it solid depth and reality. It would be far from true to say that the religious and moral revival which he produced was a sudden flame that flashed up for a moment and then went out. Yet the admission must be made that in a certain measure it was spasmodic and forced. : Savonarola had ventured on a dari ng experim ent in j attempting to rrmy^rt t|ift Fll^r^^tJTIf^ pp)ry^rv.v:.r.woQlfT^ into a theocr acy, and to set up the Kingdom of Heaven in r^e very neart of Italy ; and undoubtedly his success in m^nljing thn Mrw nf thn Flnrrntinr people into an apparent harmony with his bold conception is astound- ing. It illustrates the moral fascination of his character and the co mmanding power of his persona lity. His theocracy was a lofty dream, and with ari entire un- sej^gjmess and a purity of motive which it is impossible to doubt, he laboured to get it realised. But the task was beyond his strength in the form in which he struggled for its accomplishment, or by the means on which he so largely relied. Human nature cannot be pressed into goodness as he expected to press it. As Calvin afterwards found in Geneva, so Savonarola found in Florence, a stron g and noble gaind, by positive mastery of high-purposed will, and brandishing the terrors of retributive judgment, ^^J ^VtiW^^ JtiP ^""^^ rigid rules of life on a \)c>(\ j nf p^pl^ and may obtain a remarkable degree of visible acquiescence and sub- mission, and yet ^il to inspire permanently more than a , limited proportlp n of the mass with its own grand and vital ideas. Savonarola deserves conspicuous 122 SAVONAROLA honour, and it should be frankly conceded. He did a splendid spiritual work in his day; he kindled the higher life in many hearts in the city and provinces around ; he stirred the Church to a new sense of its ^ I III £ .gWM^' ' IPIIIIM II "IIM *| respon s il;)i] jty ; he made religion a mighiier and more riving force than it had been for several generations. But he was betrayed into a flight of pious extravagance when he sought to drill Florence into subjection to Christ's law and to regenerate its society by the austere methods of asceticism. CHAPTER XIV The Burdens and Perils of Power Savonarola had now reached the climax of his great- ness. He was the leading spirit in Florence, and in 1495 the ^jitjcal, sociaL aad.i:fi]igijQ3Jia^lif£i^i the city was controlled by his forceful, strenuously earnest mind. His sway was an exalted dictatorship, animated by a righteous purpose and by a disinterested regard for the public weal. Yet in that season of triumph, possessing almost absolute power, the great Friar was acutely conscious of the tremendous difficulties of his position and of the task he had taken in hand. While the citizens crowded round his pulpit, rejoicing in their restored freedom, and eager to honour the man to whose exertions their improved liberal government was due, he was weighed down by a profound sadness in presence of the corruptions in society which had yet to be overcome, and the intractable elements and tem- pers with which he had to deal. There was still the note of warning in his sermons, still the old dominant thought of the scourge that must fall ere the Church and Italy should be renewed. There was also a new note, now for the first time heard, the note of jiark forebodin g as to his own personal danger ana fate. Amid all the ad miratron lavished upoii" hjFrrfthere were 124 SAVONAROLA not wanting signs of im patience at his in^^erferfflc e in pu blic affair s. Poli tical ^jealou sy it was inevitable that he should incur, and complaints began to be raised that he was stepping beyond his province. More- over, his stringent measures for the suppression of immorality and frivolity were a cause of grievous offence. Sav onarola had to share the experiejifiajaL-iall ad- vanc edT reform ers who have endeavoured to remove abuses and to regenerate and purify the life of their age. Det rfiction, envy, and op position — at first subtly veiled, but gradually becoming more open and pro- nounced — assailed him ; and he soon found it necessary to defend the part he was taking in politics and public life. In one memorable sermon, to which reference has already been made, he pictured himself under the figure of a youth who left home and launched forth on the sea to fish, and was carried far out on the waters, beyond sight of port, bitterly bewailing his fate. He had been led from the liberty and quiet he craved for by the desire to preach and in the hope of winning souls, but the Lord had brought him out on the high seas, with no harbour in view, difficulties on every side, tribulations and tempests gathering before his eyes, and the wind driving him farther forth into the deep. " Lord," he cried, " whither hast Thou led me ? Through my desire to save souls for Thee, I am come into a place from which I can no longer return to my rest. ... I see in all directions war and discord com- ing upon me. You at least, my friends, the chosen of God, for whom I afflict myself day and night, have pity upon me ! Give me flowers, as the Canticle says, ' for I am sick of love.' The flowers that I ask for are BURDENS AND PERILS OF POWER 125 good works, and I only yearn for you that ye please God and save your souls." He had not, he averred, thrust himself forward, but had been carried on in the work he was doing by the constraint of circumstances and the will of Heaven, his o nn a,jm , thf^ fitif^"^^ well- being of^^th^Jloreniiiii£^ people. And as for personal aggrandisement — not that, but something far different was the recompense he looked for in the enterprise on which he had embarked. " What reward, O Lord," he cried, " shall be granted in the life to come to him who is victorious in a battle such as this ? That which the eye cannot see, the ear cannot hear — eternal blessed- ness. And what the reward granted in this life ? * The servant shall not be greater than his master,' answers the Lord. ' Thou knowest that after preach- ing I was crucified; so ma rtyrdom s hall bef all th ee ^Iso.' " Then, with a thrill 01 consecrated passion in his voice, he pleaded, " O Lord, Lord, grant me, I pray Thee, this martyrdom, and make me ready to die for Thee, as Thou hast died for me. Already the knife is sharpened for me. But the Lord tells me. Wait yet for a little while, so that the things may come which have to follow, and then thou shalt use that strength which shall be given thee." This presentiment of his tragical end, at the very height of his popularity and power, indicates his know- in/igp r.f p]p||^.^|^j-^p^ gj? ]incfi]jj-.y at work around^ Timi. The spirit of faction is never long asleep, and soon it became evident that discord was being fomented among particular sections of the citizens. New party names were heard in Florence. The followers of Savonarola, who had come to be familiarly spoken of as the Frateschi, and who were decidedly in the majority and 126 SAVONAROLA '^'''^ included the devout and honest-minded of all classes, were now ridiculed as Fiagnoni — the Weepers. His most implacable opponents earned by their fierce ran- ^. cour the title of j^rfafh iati — the Maddened, the Furious. They were chi efly men of ^^^j^ lth a.r^ ^ ra.rtV. who schemed for the re storatio n lent sp -f^-tinn o f this p arty con- sisting principally of dissolute and turbulent youths, who somewhat later came into notoriety as tji Com ^ pagnacci — the Evil Companions ; and by none were ttie '"politics of Savonarola, his religious teaching, and especially the decorous mode of life he enforced, re- garded with more vehement aversion. At the opposite extreme from the Arrabbiati stood the Bjanchi-jt he Whites, t he radicals of th e day, who o biectgd -lQ>.the l imited franchise of Savonar ola, but acquiesced in his polity generally as favourable to liberty. More numer- ous, and far more dangerous because of the secrecy of their proceedings, were the BiqLor Greys, the adj :ierents ofJiJie-M^dici, who, though indebted to Savonarola for the amnesty which had enabled them to live in peace and safety in the city, repaid his generosity by plotting his downfall and treacherously intriguing for Piero de Medici's return. The enmity of the Arrabbiati was revealed at an early stage. While the first provisionally appointed Accopiatori were still in power but unable to act, Filippo Corbizzi, a declared opponent of Savonarola BURDENS AND PERILS OF POWER 127 and of the popular institutions he was advocating, was elected by a sort of accident as Gonfaloniere, and at once lent his aid to the aristocratic party's designs. He convoked in the ^^^J"^Pin a fii^11ff"fii^i nf ^^eol ogians and y-ecclesiastics ^, and laid before them a pr oposa l to call the Pr ior of San Marco to account for his intrusion into bus iness w hich politicians skouid be left to arrange. Savonarola was sent' 'for, and Oil Ilia appearance was assailed by a storm of abuse, in which the chief part was taken by Tommaso da Rieti, an acute little friar, head of the Dominican convent of Santa Maria Novella, who delivered a harangue on the text that no man warring for God entangles himself with secular affairs. Savonarola listened patiently till his accuser had finished, and then calmly said in reply that now he found fulfilled the words, " My mother's children have risen up against me ; " that he was grieved to see his fiercest foe clothed in the robe of San Dominic — a robe that called to mind the number of good and saintly men, not forgetting the founder of the order himself, who, while wearing it, had been concerned in affairs of State, such as Cardinal Latino, St. Peter Martyr, and St. Antonino ; that it was no crime in a monk to- be mi xed up with the doi Tlg» V^ fr^ wo^^, unless he had not hing higher in view than a worldly enTa ng'lI^re- gard ^or the_g[ ood of religion, tie closed by daring any of those present to quote a single passage of the Bible which condemned the support of a free government for the sake of helping the triumph of religion and moral- ity. The assembly could only answer by demanding a plain proof of his Divine warrant for preaching as he did. With the simple retort that he had spoken openly before the world, and now had nothing more to add, 128 SAVONAROLA he turned abruptly away, and the meeting bro ke up, a failure. "^'About the same time he received Rome directing him to proc eed to Luc(^.a and p refl,nh the^the sermons for Lent. This also was the work of the Arrabbiati, who were resolved to have him re- moved or silenced. Savonarola himself was prepared to submit to the Papal decree, believing, as he avowed in one of his sermons, that it behoved him to obey orders and not create scandal. He was .lustt hen, how- ever, in the full current of his poli tical and reformijig activity, and the voice of Floren ce'w^CS'torg^ in^^^ptest against the very sn o'^'psti on o f h i s ^ -em o vrI . It was felt that he could not be spared at such a juncture, that his presence was indispensable to the const ruction of the new nrr^yfr^^^^^ ^^^ ^-^^ pnrifinHHgf.inn of the Republic. The Signory espoused his side, and the Council of the Ten were especially urgent in sending remonstrances to Rome and endeavouring to procure the recall of the Papal Brief. Akixsuauder vi. was at last persuaded to yield, influenced largely by fear of political complications, Charles of France being still at Naples, and ready to resent any offence given to his allies, as the Florentines continued to be. Thus Savon- arola was permitted to remain at his post and to piir.c;np. f. he course of public usefulnes s on which he had been launched. But his sentiment of obedience re- ceived a shock. He had obtained an insight into the doings and intrigues of the Papal Court, and into the thoroughly secular and often unworthy motives which prompted the issue and the withdrawal of Papal decrees. Neither the harassment of opposition nor the weight BURDENS AND PERILS OF POWER 129 of care, however, could quench the ardour of that un- flinching, masterful mind. Sustained by the conscious- ness of his mi ssion and the purity of his own "^igh ^lis, t^avonarola went on with his work, pj^eaching, cou nselling, org^anisin g, extending his regulative power over the common lite of the city, confronting difficulties and antagonisms, and living for months at a pressure which again and again brought on a collapse of physical strength. Yet never did he enjoy in fuller measure the fervent go ^will and devotion of the peo^^ at large. In spite of all the plots of hostile tactions, his was the only leadership which the mass of the Florentines would consent to obey. To the well-meaning and honestly disposed he was a "^nrrpi nil upliftiinrr ffpiritilinl pr^v^r stirrin g thg m to hi ghe r aims and thrilling them with a sense of the great things for which it was worthy to live and strive. His very presence, with the air of lofty purpose about him, was itself a stimulus to the better nature of all earnest citizens, and helped them to realise with glow- ing intensity the nobility of the life of faith. In those days the regal spirit of the man shone out with inspiring brilliance, and, like Schiller's hero in Wallenstein, wherever he moved he created the wonderful. During the summer of 1405^ the shadow of trouble again hovered over the city. C harles viii. was now marching north on his re turn from Naples, with Piero rig MAf^j^j ii^ ]-|i q tra in. His expedition had been a sort of triumphal progress, and he had conquered the Neapolitan kingdom almost without striking a blow. His unexampled success, however, aroused an alarm among the princes of Italy, which was shared by the 9 130 SAVONAROLA rulers of several foreign States. Ludovico of Milan, who had turned round and abandoned his friendship for France, P ojje Alexander vi., Venipe, Ferdinand of Spain , and the Emperor Maximilian I. entered into a coali tion against Cha rles, and formed the famous ^" ^]y ' -^"-"-^ " pv-^^^^-^^-^1^^ for the defence of Christen- dom against the Turks and the preservation of the rights of the chair of St. Peter, but really for the e.2LpiLsie»-^f the " barbarians " from Italy. Qii^j^les had thus been compelled to retire, and it was expected that he would pass through the territory of Florence on his northward route. The Fl orentine s, though still true to their alliance with the King, and ref]iaiog to joimili^J^sa^gue, had reason to dread his interposition on behalf of Piero's restoration. The Medici party were on the alert, waiting to seize their opportunity, but the friends of the new constitution furnished them- selves with arms, and resolutely prepared to protect their liberties. Savonarola, while encouraging their patriotic zeal, counselled them to patience, and above all things, unity ; then, he promised, victory should be theirs, evenHf all the world were against them. As Charles and his army drew near, his curt and churlish treatment of the ambassadors sent by the Republic still further darkened the aspect of affairs. Once more Savonarola was induced to step forward and meet the difficulty. He had written several letters to the King since his former interviews with him, acknow- ledging him as the chosen instrument of God, and claiming the right in God's name to keep him faithful to his covenant with Florence. Now he went to Charles in person at Poggibonsi, on the road to Siena, and spoke in the same high tone, telling the King that I BURDENS AND PERILS OF POWER 131 he had incur red the, wrath of God by n e^lppfi^cr that work of refor ming the r!]ni-iTv>V> axxLipVi V^^ ka^^ been AVifl.ro- ftT'|.n i]y |(|p.rt f| J5-p. '^ This time "~ he said, " you will escape the danger which threatens you, but if you again disregard the command which He repeats through me, His unworthy servant, and still refuse to take up the work which He commits to you, I warn you that He will punish you with far more terrible misfortunes, and will choose another in your place." The result of this solemn and authoritative remonstrance was that rihfl.r JpR p{^i«fi<^d op, leaving the Florentines ijiTimolft stpd and "oavonarola established for himself a n e^ title to .^£p ublic fav our. Th (;^ emtj^.rjyep cv. however, lent add itional weig ht to one of the many cares which lay upon his heart — the risk t ,|]Hjt mftnap.p.d thp, Rp p^i hli^. sf) l^pg'fls there existed the pos sibility of calling a Pa rlamento. T his assem bly of the whole body of the citizens, convened in the piazza at the sound of the great bell, had all the ap pearance of a thoroughly democratic insti tution, but was liable to a buse, and had repeatedly been abused, in furthering the designs of tyranny. Savonarola saw in it a danger to all really free and enlightened govern- ment, and the fear of its being employed by the ad- herents of the Medici in the interests of Piero impelled him to labour for its abolition, and thereby save Florence from the caprice of the mob, who might at any moment be cajoled by delusive promises or cowed by threats. Indeed, his apprehensions on this point roused him to speak from the pulpit in language which was startlingly excessive in its vehemence. H^jixged the people nev er to allow a Parlamento to assemble, as it was nothing else than a means ot taking power out 132 SAVONAROLA of their hands. If a new law was to be made, the Grand Council could make it. The Signory, he said, on entering office should be obliged to take an oath not to call a Parlamento, and heavy penalties should be inflicted on any person who should secretly attempt to call one, — " if he be of the Signory, let his head be struck off; if he be not of it, let him be declared a rebel, and his goods confiscated." Nay, if JJia-Signory as a body should endeavour to summon a Parlamento, the moment they appear m iront ot jthe i'alazzo " any man may cut them to piece s without being guilty of sin." This sermon was delivered on 28th July 1495, and early in the following month a law was passed declaring that no Parlamento should in future be held. That the risk which m®ved Savonarola to such violence of speech was not imaginary, was proved soon afterwards, when Pi^ro dft^ Medici, assisted by the Italian League and encouraged by the intrigues of his supporters within the city, made j^n atitempt tCL force an e ntrance into Florence. The enterprise failed ignominiously, but it revealed the need of vigorous precautions for the security of the new constitution and the freedom it conferred. It drew from Savonarola one of his most tremendous outbursts of denunciatory declamation. Holding the crucifix in his hand, he sent /Iiis voice pealing out over the Cathedral, declaring that '' whosoever would seek to bring back »the Medici to Florence should be put to death. " Will you who pay no respect to Christ, have respect to private citizens ? Do justice, I tell you. Off with his head ! Even were he the chief of the first family in the city, off*, I say, with his head ! . . . Trust j n nought but th e_G|:e at BURDENS AND PERILS OF POWER 133 Qo^ii^, which is the work of God and not of man, and whosoever would change it, or set up a tyrant, or place the government in the hands of private citizens, let him be accursed of the Lord for ever." Such words of fierce se verity may be ascribed to the natural morbid excitability of Savonarola's tempera- ment, strained to its utmost pitch by the exacting and long-continued tax upon his n ervous en ergy and mental powers. At the same time it is possible to see in them a striking evidence of his irxep y e ssibl -e-gg^sion for libejjty. y CHAPTEE XV The Hand of the Pope Among the supporters of the League formed to drive Charles viii. and his army out of Italy there was none more energetic than Pope Alexander vi. He had incurred the special enmity of Charles by first profess- ing to favour his claims to Naples and then turning against him, and now his position was most seriously imperilled by the in fluence of Charles in Italian politic s. The Fren ch King held over him the threat of summon- ing ^General Council to investigate his title to j he Papacy/ For, Shrewd and capable administrator as Alexander vi. was, and endowed with certain qualities which made him superficially popular, his character, as judged even by Roman Catholic historians, was a discredit to religion and to the pontifical throne. His life was one of unrestrained sensuality, marked both in private and public by an absence of all moral feel- ing ; bribery was a means of power which he used with the most amazing effrontery ; with systematic unscru- pulousness he schemed and intrigued for the worldly advancement of his illegitimate sons and daughters, and openly tolerated in their conduct criminalities and vices which were a scandal to Italy, and which have rendered the family name of Borgia a byword 134 THE HAND OF THE POPE 135 for generations. "Thus," says Dr. Pastor, "he who should have been the guardian of his time, saving all that could be saved, contributed more than any other man to steep the Church in corruption." This was the man who most dreaded the French King, and who, now that the latter was on his retreat, was most determined to break the force of his power in Italy. The chief obstacle to his designs lay in the attitude of ^Elorence, which still persisted in holding al oof from the Leagu e and adhering to its alliance with France. And Florence was dominated by the influence of Savonarola, through whose unflinching advocacy that alliance was upheld. He still clung to his pious hallucination that the frivolous, vacillating, dissolute Ki ng was God's chosen instrument for the rftfnrmfliinn of the Churc h. Accordingly, it was now upon Florence, and upon Savonarola as the ruling spirit there, that the Pope, with the eager connivance of Ludovico of Milan, instigated the Italian powers to turn their com- bined hostility. It was decided that every means should be employed to detach Florence from the side of France and co mpel it to join the Le ague ; and so an effQ^t of rp.prpsRinn, ori ginating in political _r ather t han r eligious causes, wr^ direptpd flgRJuRt the main supporter of the French alliance, the Prior of San Marco. Alexander's purpose to silence and, if possible, extinguish this influential opponent of his policy, was confirmed by highly-coloured reports of Savonarola's denunciations of the Roman Court and its doings which were carried to his ears by the enemies of the Florentine preacher. He set to work with dexterous subtlety. On 25th July 1495 he addressed a Brief to Savonarola, in 136 SAVONAROLA which in friendly terms he commended him as one well known for his zeal as a worker in the Lord's vine- yard, and then, referring to his predictions of future events as coming not from man but from God, he summoned him in virtue of his pastoral authority to repair at once t^^Rome and giv e^a more full and d irect ac count of the _ revelations he haj_ received. Savon- arola's friends, however, were suspicious of the object aimed at by this apparently mild injunction. They realised the danger to their popular government and freedom involved in the at tempt to remove the gu ide of the wh ole movement from Florence, and they were afraid of aTprol to Eave him seized or assassinated by the way ; for, indeed, even in the city the adversaries of the new order were beginning to show a more deadly intention, and Savonarola had to be guarded by an armed escort as he passed to and fro between his con- vent and the Cathedral. Moreover, his b odily he alth was break ing do wn, and his emaciation was so extreme that he was contemplating retirement for a time from the pulpit; and therefore a journey under such con- ditions would have been more than he could safely bear. All these considerations were anxiously pressed upon his attention, and, after weighing them duly, he on 31st July sent a reply to the Pope r equesting to be excii a.ed from coming to Rome at that particular time. He acknowledged the duty of obedience to his ecclesi- astical superior, but pleaded the low state of his health and the risk to his life from the evil designs of his political foes ; and further, he urged that the reformed government had not yet taken firm root, and required constant assistance, and that therefore, in the judgment of all good and wise citizens, his departure would be of THE HAND OF THE POPE 137 great injury to the people, while of little advantage to Rome. And for these " true and plain reasons " he asked his Holiness to allow him a brief delay. As to the explanation of his predictions concerning the future, he promised to send a little book — th e Compe ndium BMwlatiomLm' — which he was just getting printed^,~and which would be found to contain all about the matter that needed to be known. He was taking the rest which his excessive exhaustion forced upon him, deputing his trusted disciple Fra Domenico da Pescia to preach for him in the Cathedral, when, to his astonishment, on the 8t h of Septembe r a new:._BriejLwas issued by the Pope, addressed, not to the brethren of San Marco, but to the Franciscans of Sa nta Croce, his l ong-sta nd ing ri vals and opponents, and speaking of him in a tone of alienated aloofness as " a certain Fra Girolamo," whose mind had been excited to such a pitch of folly that he gave himself out to be a prophet and the bearer of a mission from God, without being able to prove his claim either by miracles or by direct evidence from Holy Scripture. There was reason to fear — this Brief of the man who was out- raging all the moralities went on to say — lest vice should make an entrance into the Chur ch und er tlie semblance of virtue. The Pope, it continued, could forbear ^ longer. The Fra Girolamo was com- manded to refmj ri fT;r>m preflrhin g__o f any kin d. Moreover, the "fecandalous severance" of his convent from the Lombard Congregation must cease, and he must henceforth bow to the authority of the Lombard superior ; and all this under pain of being visited by the ban of the Church. Savonarola was painfully embarrassed. He was 138 SAVONAROLA unwilling to place himself in an attitude of open rebellion against the Pope, yet he knew that the whole difficulty was due to the plots of_ the_Ai:Eahbiati and Medici parties, who were working through the Pope for the r^^oration of tyranny. He made his reply on the 29th of September. It was a defence of his teach- ing in view of the reports by which the Holy Father had been deceived, and a humble but firm protest aga inst the reunion o f San Marco with the Lomb ard Congregation. In his doctrine, he said, he had always been submissive to the Church, and the events he had foretold had come to pass, as many witnesses could testify. He argued that the reunion with the Lombard friars would only deepen the rancour already existing between the two congregations, and give rise to fresh disputes. If that reunion was sought in order to prevent others from lapsing into his errors, he believed he had made it plain that he had not lapsed into an y error, and hence as the cause was non-existent, neither siSuTd its effect remain. He recited the services he had rendered to Florence in arresting bloodshed and destroying dissension in a time of trouble, and in es tablishing religion, moralitv,,_ aiid- ^eace ; and he besought his Holiness to grant him full acquittal from the false charges made against him, concluding with the declaration that now and always, as he had often repeated, he submitted himself and all his words and writings to the correction of the Holy Roman Church and " of your Holiness, to whose prayers, prostrate at your feet, I most humbly commend myself and all my brethren." Alexand er was a man of astute practical sagacity ,'and on the receipt of this reply he recognised the necessity THE HAND OF THE POPE 139 of proceeding with studied caution. Though annoyed for the moment by the Florentine preacher's obstinate opposition to his will, he yet deemed it wise not to push matters to extremity, but to attain his objec ^t, if pos sible, by discreet and diplomatic m eans. On the l§iji_ of Octo ber he sent another .Briei:, mw^hich Savon- arola was told that serious displeasure had been caused at Kome by the disturbances which, it was alleged, his teaching had produced in Florence, but that now great joy was felt in the assurance, gathered from his letter lately received and from the testimony of many cardinals, that he was ready, as a good Christian, to submit to the Church in all things. H ence the Pope J iegan to be persuaded that he had erred rather through exces s of zeal than through any evil in tent. However, lest there should be any failure of duty, he was com- manded, in the name of holy obedience, to a bstain fro m pceaiChing either in public or private, until he was able with convenience and safety to appear himself in Rome, or until a commission had been sent to Florence. If he obeyed this command, all the former Briefs would be revoked, and he might live in peace according to the dictates of his own conscience. Ere this_Brief, which from some unexplained cause took a lon^ime to reach Floreuce^as delivered, Savonarola had reappeared in the .pul£itranH^ iad - ilone I 'i l brt itmoot t u ( jucuiiiag e the citizens to resist the expedition of Piero de Medici referred to in the previous chapter. It was then that he preached that startling sermon which called for the death of all who aided or abetted the restoration of tyranny. By the time the Brief arrived the danger was past, and Savonarola relapsed into silence. His position, amid wily manoeuvres to cripple his 140 SAVONAROLA power and false accusations of creating discord, was exceedingly trying. The de cree prohibiting him to prea ch he felt to be unjust, and the reasons assigned for ihe prohiDJtion b ^sed on slanderous repo rts. He knew that behind the vague charges brought against his teaching it was his political influence that was rftfl.Hy nssflilp.d But he had confidence in the rectitude of his cause, and was res2lved^not_to_deserLt^ who, in spite of all the slanders, looked up to him still with unabated trust. The good work was going on, and he was anxious not to mar it by the heated ex- citement sure to arise if he openly quarrelled with the Pope. So he kept quiet for a while, hoping that ere long the efforts of friendly int ercessors mig ht lead to the, withdrawal o?~l)he_ resjHctio ns laid up on him. He brooded much~on the terrible infamies of the Papal Court, on the immoral relations and the murders in which the Pope himself and the members of his family were implicated, and the only remedy for which, as he now became convinced, was the calling of a Gfine^al Council. Several times he was prompted by those broodings to write to Charles viii., exhorting him to take the steps devolving upon him as God's minister in efiecting the work of the Church's renovation. Gradually, as his strength returned, he became im- patient of inaction, and in the enforced abstention from his favourite work of preaching sought employ- ment for his energies in the reform of the children and youth of the city. He had all along shown a warm interest in the young; he had endeavoured to guide parents and teachers in the books and methods to be used in their education; he had been w^ont at times to preach to them, and had arranged a special place for THE HAND OF THE POPE 141 them in the Cathedral. Thus by the attention he gave to the ris ing gen eration around him he had succeeded in gain ing their confidence and e nthusiasm, and had weaned large numbers of them from their vices and frivolities. Now he entered upon a systematic effort to directs, the ir a.musements and to train them in habits of religious pr opriety. The Advent season of 1495 he had passed in retirement, but early in 1^96, as the Carnival drew near, he was impelled to action. That annual holiday had long been characterised by scenes of wildest revelry. The Florentine boys and young men amused themselves with mad frolics and drunken f eastings; with forced tolls exacted from passengers on the street by barring the way with poles till the money was paid ; and with huge bonfires, round which they danced and sang, or over which they pelted one another with stones, often to the shedding of blood. The worst excesses of licence had been in some measure restrained since Savonarola's preaching began to tell on the manners of the city, but now that the great Friar's voice was silenced, the more reckless spirits were prep aring to celebrate the occasion with all thft-^fl tnrbnIpTi ce and uncurbed riot ing' Some- how he got hold of a large band of the young Floren- tines, and, with the help of his faithful Fra Domenico, r)rgf»:m&^d__f,hATin irij^n__OTn|rls^ who chose Captains for themselves. He set up altars in the streets, where the boys begged, not money for their banquets, but contri- butions for the poor. He gave them hymns and sacred lauds to sing — some of them written by himself — instead of the indecent rhymes of former days. And then, on the last day of the Carnival, he marshalled them in a gr^d procession, and led them through the 142 SAVONAROLA city, chaunting their pious_songs, visiting the principal churches, and finally depositing the alms-boxes in the care of the guardians of the poor. The whole scene struck the imagination of the citizens; older people joined in the march ; decorum took the place of riotous tumult; and the Carnival of 1496 was felt to be a triumph of Savonarola's mliuence for good. The boys themselves^' Cic kindled Lu enthusiasm;" they accepted the rule s of their new guilds — to avoid ro asquerades, theat res, gamblingT^ahces, and~the^readin^of Hcentious book^Ll ^to obser ve simplicity of manners, conduct, and ] dr£!SS.;_to__goto church, take the sacrament, and keep NGod's commandments. And, according to many wit- nesses^ a distinct moral improvement became visible among the youth of the city. Meanwhile the Signory and the Council of Ten had been anxiously soliciting the Pope and some friendly cardinals, particularly Caraffa of Naples, with the i. view of obtaining for Savonarola the recall of the in- 3) hibition from preaching. So far as appears, though no ^ formal recall was issued, Alexander at last was induced ^ to grant some verbal sanction to his reappearance in ^ the pulpit. This is the most probable explanation of ^ the resolution passed by the Si gnory on 1 1th February V 1 496,. requesting him to preach the Lent sermons in ^ the Cathedral. He readily complied witlTtKe request, and thusThe first period of compulsory silence came to ^ an end. CHAPTER XVI The Uncompromising Witness It was amid a scene of intense excitement that, on 17th, FebniP^y J,^^^, Savonarola made his first appear- ance in the Ha f ,| i pr | ral pn 1 pi t. p.f tp.r an interval of several months. A jubilant throng gathered round him on his way through the streets, and an armed bodyguard marched by his side to protect him from secret foes. Inside the great building every inch of space was occupied ; the vast floor and raised wooden galleries were densely crowded with a congregation of old and young, all waiting with eager expectancy to hear their beloved teacher and guide once more. And there again in the pulpit he sp oke out boldly, andja dth u nshaken assur ance of his mi ssi on ao tho m essenger oJ__God. He declared his loyalty to the Holy Roman Catholic Church, and his readiness to submit to its decisions both himself and his teaching. But, he said, " the Pope cannot command me to do anything which is contradictory to Christian charity or the gospel. I am convinced that he never will ; but were he to do so, I should reply, * Now you are in error, and no longer a good pastor or the voice of the Church.' " As for him- self, he did not believe that he was under any obliga- tion to obey a command to leave Florence, inasmuch as 144 SAVONAROLA every one knew that his removal was desired solely from motives of political hatr ed, and would bring in- jury not only~to liberty, but to religion. Were he to see clearly that his leaving a city would be attended with spiritual and temporal ruin to the people, he would refuse to obey the command of any living man to quit it, because he should presume that his superior in giving the command had been deceived by calumnies and lies. He had examined his ways, he avowed, and found them pure. Though con vinced that the Brie fs fro m Rom ja_jiYPre invPib'H^ inasmuch as they were in- spired by false reports, he had resolved to be prudent, and therefore had so far kept silent. But when he saw many of the good growing lukewarm, and the wicked more and more bold, he felt himself constrained to return to his post. " I would fain remain silent, but may not, for the word of God is as a fire in my heart, and unless I give it vent, it will consume the marrow of my bones. Come then, Lord, since Thou wouldst have me steer through these deep waters, let Thy will be done." Neither bribes nor terrors, it was obvious, could in the slightest affect the tone or the message of that voice which was now using its liberty of utterance again. Assailed by slander and the tongue of strife, beset by the crafty plots of conspirators within the city, and by rapacious princes and a worthless Pope outside, with his life menaced by poison and by steel, Savonarola stood there in the Cathedral pulpit as the uncom- promising witness for the claims of God and the rights of the people, for the freedom of the reason and the conscience of man from all authority save that which commends itself as Divine. The hand THE UNCOMPROMISING WITNESS 145 that fain would crush him and through him the hopes of Florence, though it had relaxed its grip for a moment, was ready, he strongly suspected, to seize a pretext for tightening it again; yet he fearlessly asserted the eternal obligations of purity, justice, and charity on all ranks of men, high as well as low, and prr> p^1a.iry| p d ^^p |-P,«^pf)Tisihility nf th i' . i n<1 1 vIiliiM.l Kim ] to Q od alone. This was the prevailing note of those Lent sermons of 1496. With astonishing variety of style, incisive vigour of phrase, boldness of imagery, abound- ing wealth of illustration, and redoubled fire and rush of eloquence, h e denounced the vices of Ro me, and the harlotries and abominations tolerated there; and de- claimed against the hypocrisies in religion and the compounding by sacraments and ceremonies on par- ticular days for general laxity and ungodliness. He predi cted the woes yet to come_u poil_ltaly, the war, famine, and pestilence that would scourge its people to repentance ; sounded warnings against the enemies of the Republic, against the spirit of faction, and all dis- honest means of influencing the election of ofiicials by one party or another ; described the evils wrought by tyrants, whose power meant the extinction of virtue and all that was best in the life of man ; — de- fending himself also from the aspersions of adver- saries, who sought through him to strike at popular government and liberty ; and insisting on his owfl jitle to in terpret the Pope's commands in the light of their -j hanaOBjL WitirGfaTistiairc^ and rel igion, instead I of y.ieldin^C-ta mely to decrees b ased on the lying infor- ^^^jns^tion oLdetractors. Those sermons were founded on texts taken from Amos and Zechariah, and the whole population was y 146 SAVONAROLA stirred during the weeks in which they were delivered. The fame o f them spread over Italy and into other landsj and in France^ Germariyj__aiid England the pn wf^rfn 1 voi P.ft_ jvh i oh wns th ri 1 ]mg F1 oren o.e awoke an eeho in-many-i^earts. There was an uneasy com- m^:itiaa_3lso amo ng the Italian princ es, and several of them, such as Ludovico Sforza of Milan and the Duke of Ferrara, were constrained to enter into correspond- ence with the redoubtable preacher, remonstrating with him on the strong reproofs he was hurling against the ruling powers, and the political passions he was arousing thereby. /" In Florence itself the excitement was varied on Palm Sunday by another procession of the children, specially arranged by Savonarola to celebrate the practical inauguration of the Monte di Pieta. Many thousands of boys, all clad in white, and with gar- lands on their heads and crosses or palm-branches in their hands, marched through the city, carrying a tabernacle adorned with a painting of the Lord Jesus riding on an ass into Jerusalem. Behind them fol- lowed a long array of men, women, and girls, also dressed in garb befitting the occasion, and again and again the cry was raised by young and old, "Live Jesus Christ, our King." The procession ended its course at the piazza of San Marco, where the monks, crowned with festal wreaths, came forth from the convent, and, forming themselves into a ring, moved gaily round the Piazza, singing hymns and with steps keeping time to the music. After this the zeal of the young people on behalf of the Fra Girolamo became quite irrepressible ; their mothers could not keep them in bed on the mornings when he was to preach, so THE UNCOMPROMISING WITNESS 147 impatient were they to be in their places in the Cathedral. Their ardour in good works restrained their elders from open sin. " Tt was a blessed t ime," wrote Landucci of that reign of reverence and pious fervour among the children, — *'hnt brief" Yet brief as it was in its more directly religious manifestations, it planted principles and impulses in the hearts of the young Florentines of that generation which gave fibre to their character, and prepared many of them for noble action in behalf of the Republic amid the troubles and conflicts of after years. In the midst, however, of all this popularity and^^ admiration, there was an immense amount of partisan agi tation and intrigue. In' the "shops and market- places, and at ^treet~corners, men talked passionately, and with sharp divergencies of opinion, o n the pers onal merits.^aims ^ and policy ot tK eir j::eiB^t^k-arble— Friar. The Arrabbiati were busy in disseminating suspicions of his motives and in undermining his influence on the public mind. Attacks were made upon him in writing, and tracts and letters full of scurrilous accusations were circulated through the city. He was assailed in songs and ballads which held up to ridicule his sayings and doings. His disciples took up the chal- lenge, and replied in pamphlets and verses to the insults heaped upon their master. He had still a following of overwhelming strength, but as political jealousy found time to work, and as the glamojir-of his first^successes beganto__wear off, the opposing and dissentient section of the community gained confidence to give vent to their hitherto secretly nursed hostility. At Rome, again, the Pope was moved" to appoint a consistory of Dominican theologians to inquire into the 148 SAVONAROLA cha rges of heresy , sc hism, and rebellio n against the HoT^^ee, under which the Friar and his adherents had been laid; but the only result of this gathering was a Papal message to the Signory to take care that in future Savonarola should be more guarded in his teaching, and that, "like all the best preachers," he should refrai n from intermeddling with the things of this world and political affairsf^^ A visit which he paid to Prato at the close of Lent brought him a number of distinguished adherentsjrom amon^Jie^scholars, learned doctors, and ^ofessors of the Pisan University whom he had an opportunity of addressing there. When back again in Florence, he published his treatise OnJh^SioTVj olicity of the Chris tian _Z^/6^ a work in which, after rebutting the charges made against him at Rome, he gave a popular and exceedingly readable account of the doctrines of the Catholic faith, stripped of the usual theological tech- nicalities; and in his sermons on Ruth and Micah during the summer he confined himself largely to the practical questions of Christian morality. There was a lull in the controversy between him and the Pope ; and in all probability it was about this time, though the date is uncertain, that an ^^'^:^t w^^ ■moAa fr^ bribe him iri to_ compliance with the Pope's w ishes and policy by t he offer of a caidjixars h at. The bearer of the offer, according to Burlamacchi, was an influential Dominican, who came expressly to Florence to deliver the message. Savonarola, however, was not to be bribed. When the proposal was laid before him, he courteously told the Pope's emissary that if he would condescend to be one of his auditors at jiis next sermo n he would take means to co nvey his repl y. That next THE UNCOMPROMISING WITNESS 149 sermon, so far as can be ascertained, must have been one preached by request of the Signory in the-^iaw ha ll of the Greater Council — a noble addition to the Palazzo Vecchio^ which had been erected by~tEe advice of Savon arola himself as a sui table meeting-place for the legislat ors of the restored R epublic. In the course of his sermon there on 20th August 1496, Savonarola found occasion to say that the only red hat he wi shed to have v^as one dyed in the blood of his own mart yr- d om^^ ^^^I seek neither hat nor mitre. I desire only that which Thou hast given to Thy saints — death, a crimson hat, a hat of blood." For many weeks after this Savonarola abstained from preaching. The cond ition of Florence, owing to poverty,.. _di&ease^_andfamine, was becoming a matter of serieua eoficem. The unsettlement of the last two years had checked the tide of commercial prosperity. The subsidy promised to Charles viii. and the ex- penses incurred by the harassing war with Pisa had laid a heavy burden on the people, and a bad harvest- season had impoverished the peasantry around, who came flocking into the city, starving and crying for bread. Pestilence broke out and aggravated the misery. The wealthier followers of Savonarola dis- played most praiseworthy humanity in ministering to the wants of their poorer neighbours. Many of them gave shelter to the wandering country-folk in their own houses ; others were active in succouring the sick and distressed, and in watching over them in the hospitals. At the same time the powers forming the so-called Holy League redoubled their efforts to terrorise Mar§5L?^J?^tp aba ndoning the Fren ch alliance. Ludovico of Milan, who had first invitedTHeTrench ISO SAVONAROLA monarch, now instigated Ma ximilian i. tq^ makg a de- sce|i^_into_rtaly and lend his aij ip the, interests of th&-Laague; while the Venetian fleet, by hlop.karlinpr LeghanvciiLjo£L the Florentine sullies from abroad. And in the midst of all these calamities a heavy loss was sustained by the de ^h of that brave soldier and honest friend of Florentine liberty, P jero Ca^ poni.^ who was killed by a ball in one of the engagements of the Pisan War, leaving a blank not easy to fill. The,£ope-on his part was pursuing his resolve to_e£ush the Republic PTid to re instate Piero de Med ici, who would be a submissive tool in his hands. T he Flox en- L tines h ad hoped much from Charles viii.. bu t he failed them in their hou r of need. All this was severely trying to Savonarola. It furnished ground for the reproachful taunts of his enemies. It encouraged the Arrabbiati and the adherents of the Medici to expe pt that hisu^opulantyjmulii_soon_colla and the new government fall to pieces. Yet even in that dark, distressful crisis Florence received a fresh illustration of Sayo narola's _amazing and seemingly janfailin g powe r. The Signory had again to ask his aid in the public extremity, and in a sermon which he preached at their invitation in the Cathedral on 28th October, he succeeded to a singular degree in reviving the spirit and fortitude of the people. Referring to a procession which it was pro- posed to hold in bringing the miraculous image of the Madonna dell' Impruneta into the city, he expressed his confidence in the blessing that would attend such an act of penitential devotion. " Form this procession," he said, "it will be a goodly thing; and if you turn to God in a right spirit, I believe that some great THE UNCOMPROMISING WITNESS 151 grace will be bestowed upon us, and we shall need to stand in fear of none." And just two days afterwards, when the long-drawn-out procession was on its way, and when the files of white-robed youths and bearded men, craftsmen in their various companies and guilds, monks and friars cowled and frocked according to their several orders, priests, canons, and dignitaries of the Church, were marching slowly, with penitential chaunts, through the hunger-stricken throng in the narrow streets, bearing the antique cabinet in which the figure of the "Pitying Mother" was enshrined, a horseman, waving an olive-branch in his hand, came galloping across one of the bridges and down the Lung Arno, and dashed right on till he overtook the moving crowd. He _was the bringer __of the welco me tidi ngs that a number of ships from France, laden^^ with corn " and sol diers, haa safely' arrived at JieghornJbyjEavpuiL JiL-a^-^^ which had kept the blockading fleet at a distance ; and as the news spread shouts of joy rang out all along the packed thoroughfares ; the bells were set pealing, and in the midst of the extraordinary excitement the words of Savonarola were remembered, and this addi- tional and startling proof of his my5taiiQiia.jnsight ji> into the s ecrets of Prov i^suce awoke a nejaz— passion ijU''^ of popjolarenthusiasm in his favour, and almost for the moment paralysed his foes. Nevertheless, vexations continued to beset him. Copies of letters, purporting to be w ritten by h imself, and urging the King of lb ran£e_k)- another invasion of Ital^iUiad been circulated by Ludovico of Milan, who declared that he had intercepted them on their way to Charles. Savonarola pronounced the letters forged, as 152 SAVONAROLA subsequent revelations proved them to have been ; but for the time they gave rise to m isrepresent ations v^hich v^^ere acutely embarrassing. Once more also the Pope struck in with an exceedingly skilful blow. It came in the shape of a B rief, dated 7th Novemb er, and addressed to the Dominican convents in ^TTi^^^T^y, San Marco's among them, nrr\ awning f.Vifl.f fViAy shonl fl all L A-wiitprl with the "DoTniniPari f^r^nvAnf.H in thp prnvinp,f> nf Rmmp^ and so fnrpg pnA T^'^'^^-T^nTinflTi pnngregfl.f.ioTi^ the vicar of which, in the first instance, was to be nominated by his Holiness, and to depend for his authority on the Roman Vicar-General, the supreme head of the order. The effect of such a decree was to depsiKeuSaiicm^ola of Ihe indep endence which he had hitherto enjoyed, and to render himsuBject to removal from Florence at any moment which the superior at Rome might choose. ^ Savonarola protested in a pamphlet, entitled An Ap ology for the JJmL greaation of Sa mUKao^o, in wEiclT he appealed to the public at large against the injustice of the new ordinance, grounded as it was on false information, and contrary to charity. He maintained that the uni,Q ij^ with the Roma n convents proposed wo uld involve th e adoption of a less strict x iUe-o^f relifflous life, and would undo the good work of reform which had already been accomplished ; and he pleaded that he and his brothers of San Marco could not allow themselves to be cowed by threats or excommunications, but mu st be rea dy to fac e death _ i'ather than submjl go that which would be poison and ruin to their souls. TlTere was a trumpet-blast of revolt against all spiritual despotism in his closing words : " When the conscience rebels against a command received from a superior, we must first resist and humbly correct him, which we THE UNCOMPROMISING WITNESS 153 have already done ; but i£ that is not enough, then we must act like St. Paul, who, in the presence of all, withstood Peter to his face." This was a danug posi tion in f ^akej^ip, and it made abundantly clear the probability that if Alexander vi. should insist on the enforcement of his decree, he would be openly and resolutely defied. The Florentine envoy at Eome, supported by many influential friends, did all in their power to prevent such a result, and for a time definite action was suspended. Savonarola went on preaching, and in his Advent sermons on Ezekiel he urged the people to virtuous living and to gratitude to God for their free institutions ; and he called on them to protect their lij^ierty, to watch against treachery, to su*ppress vice, and to maintain justice. " Do justice, therefore, magnificent Signory ; justice. Lords of the Eight ; justice, magistrates of Florence ; justice, men and women ; let all cry for justice ! " There was no further sign from the Pope while these sermons were being delivered. Alexander had his own perplexities in connection with the adverse fortunes attending the military efforts of the League. Max j- miliarjjDaffled in his attempt to capture Leghorn, had retH?ed — iTig1or'<^^1s1y northwards, fuming over the jealousies, divi ded co unsels, and general n m^eh'able ness of bi a - Italian -allies. The pressure on Florence was accordingly relieved, and in the brighter aspect of affjiirs Savon arola ag ain stood out in popular estimation a s the bulwark of the ~State. capable not only ot holding his own against Rome, but also of rescuing the city y from the machinations of its enemies. CHAPTER XVII The Pyramid of Vanities The year 1 497 opene d for Savonarola in comparative quiet. During its first months he was engaged in writing his great theological work, The Trmmph of the Cross. Fra Domenico da Pescia took his place in the Cathedral, and in his sermons there laboured fervently to further the progress of religious reform. Moreover, the members of the S ignor y just elected were all adh erents of Savonaro la's own party, the Piagnoni, and the social and politicaTlnterests of the city appeared to be in good keeping, more especially as Francesco Ya lori, his z ealous su pporter, he l d the o ffice of Gon- faloniere! With all his zeal, however, Yalori was wanting in discretion, and in his anxiety to find a means of outnumbering the aristocratic opponents of the democratic government, he pr ocured the pas sing of a law_bywhich the age for admission to the Greater (t^ Council was reduced_jEQin^- thirty_J^o^_ twent3 ^-four. Savonarola's advice was against such a step, and7as he feared, the result of the new measure was the intro- d uctio n into the Council of some of the most violent young men of the Arrabbiati part y. This was a section of the community which Savonarola's good work had failed to touch. He had been remarkably successful, as 164 THE PYRAMID OF VANITIES 155 we have seen, in his influence over the lads and youths of the city ; but there were large numbers of the younger members of aristocratic families whose hostility to his polit ical asce ndancy was embitter ed by fierce irrita tion at the strict yoke of virtue wTiich he imposed. These were the Co mpagnacci, or Jjlvii Companions, already described — wild and dissolute young fellows, who had now banded themselves together under the leadership of the reckless Dolfo Spini, as sworn enemies of popular govei:iim^t, and stilF more as enemiesofSavonarola and his rigid restraints on the extravagances, pleasures, and follies on which they were bent. By admitting such men to a power which they were only too glad to seize, Val ori's ne w law proved a danger to the common- wealth. It brought into the rp.mon of pilbIi/*L_lTf^ a turbulent elf^m^ nt which seriously imp eded the_hea1thy pro gress of t he State, and henceforth it became more possible for the adversaries of Savonarola to thwart his beneficent labours and deal him a deadly blow. For the time being, however, the distinguished Friar remained the dominant power. He had his eye and his hand on the leading movements in the city. He secured from the Signory more effective regulations for the improvement of manners. Through Fra Domenico he perfected the organisation of the children, drilling them into a sort of police force or sacre3 militia, whose duty it was to protest against all indecencies, reprove vice, and report on any flagrant criminalities which they might observe. There can be little doubt that those boy-police were betrayed into occasional excesses of zeal. Their methods must often have seemed inquisitorial and impertinent, and murmurs of com- plaint were sure to arise. Yet on the whole it is 156 SAVONAROLA clear that the good eifect of the movement amongst the young was warmly recognised by the general body of honest and well-disposed citizens. It presented a favourable contrast to the irreverent and licentious tendencies which had hitherto been so patent. As the Carnival again approached, Savonarola re- solved on a demonstration of an unusually imposing character. He would celebrate the festival with a still more complete reversal of its profane revelries than on the previous year. Florence should be called upon to make a full and solemn sacpificp of her vanities. Accordingly, for several days the youthful disciples of the Friar were sent round the city in companies, visiting from door to door, carrying with them baskets, and calling for the surrender of all articles which might minister to luxury, frivolity, and empty show ; and on every house where their demand was met they pronounced a benediction. In this way they collected an enormous number of objects usually associated with the giddy levities and self-indulgent pleasures of exist- ence — masks, wigs, and masquerading costumes ; copies of loose songs, books of amorous poetry, romances and licentious tales ; or naments and trin kets of all kinds ; perfumes, cosmetics, mirrors, veils, and false hair ; flutes and guitars ; cards, dice, and gaming-tables ; pictures of the nude, portraits of popular beauties, indecent works of art. These were borne with great glee to the Piazza della Signoria, and piled up, tier above tier, on a huge octagonal pyramid of wood which had been erected there. Then on the closing day of the festival an eager throng filled the Piazza. The thousands of children, who had marched in procession through the streets collecting money for the Good Men THE PYRAMID OF VANITIES 157 of San Martino, were gathered in the central space ; and while their hymns rose to the sky, and the trumpets sounded and the bells rang out, the mighty pile was set ablaze, and in whirling smoke and crackling flame its mass of miscellaneous contents was reduced to ashes. "^uch was the Bur ning of the Vanit ies. So absorbing was the interest it stirred in the city, that all attempts to celebrate the Carnival with the wanton licence of old days were effectually arrested. At this modern date the spectacle wears a curious and almost fantastic aspect ; but in that age, and among Itali^wi^-whose m inds w e re sw a y ad-by strong re li g i ou s e xc itement a nd at thi3. Rfl.mp tiTTip. la.rgp.ly^ imbued wi th the ideas and emotions oljnedigevalism, it would be less calculated to produce an impression of extravagance. No protest was raised against it by the generation which witnessed the scene ; and the strictures passed on Savonarola for allowing the destruction of literary treasures and works of art, which the affair is surmised to have in- volved, are of comparatively recent date. There may have been consumed in the great bonfire some stray copies of Boccaccio, whose writings were then in high favour, or some few pictures which it might have been of importance to preserve. Nevertheless it is extremely doubtfu l whether the pile really contained so much that w as exce ptionally valuable m art or literature as the cri tics have be en inclined to suppose. Savonarola's cen- sures on the indecent character of many of the writings and paintings which appealed to the popular taste of his day were certainly severe, and he was often intensely roused by th econtaminating influence thereby exerted on the youth of the city. But he was no rabid icono- 158 SAVONAROLA clast, carried away by a frenzy of fanaticism. Had he y^f^ri so he would never hav^ /^ained^the regarO^oT that - eminent classi ca]__schol ar and studen t. Marsilio Ficino, who by this time had become his sincere ad- mirer. Fond, iif ^poetry himself, he had among his friends the poet Girolamo Benivieni, who composed many of the hymns sung by the children in their pro- cessions. Though for many years Savonarola had n^lecte dthe humanities for ot h^^^^^d grflv:^j_pnrRiiif,s it wa,s no L, because he despised the hu manities, but be- cause the force of circumstances and of his own sense of duty constrained him to enter on a practical moral and religious work which engrossed his thought and energy. He believed in the value of poetry as an aid to the elevation and refinement of the human mind ; and in an essay wKich he once wrote, " In Apology of the Art of Poetry," he gave forth his views as to what true poetry should be — a means of so presenting ideas by example and figure and rhythmic language as not only to enlighten but to enchant, not only to convince but to charm. Savonarola's genuin^^preciati£uuif_the productions of literary g enius is decisively proved by the exertions and sacrifices he made to res cue the Library of the l\Tp.dio.ij which had fallen into possession of the State when the family were expelled and their property con- fiscated, but which was now, in the straitened condition of the public exchequer, in danger of being sold and dispersed to meet some heavy claims. The loss to Florence would have been irreparable ; for no library in Europe at that time contained so rich and complete a collection of Greek and Latin classics. It was Savon- arola w^ho interested himself above all others in avert- THE PYRAMID OF VANITIES 159 ing the danger. He induced the brethren of San Marco to raise money on the lands belon^^iiig_tQ-ibhe convent, and by this means he was enabled to make a pay ment o f two thousand florins and to undertake responsibility for a thousand more, with the result that there was secured to Florence that precious Bihlioteca Laurenziana which is to this day one of its principaT glories. And the t ransaction to ok, place during the very year which witnessed the Burning of the Vanities. With reference to the painting and sculpture of his age, he sometimes indulged in language of strong fulmination and reproof, and not without reason. There is no denying the pa gan tende ncy which had crept into I talian ar t towards the close of the fifteenth century, a tendency to emp hasise the ,s ensuo us side of life, to practise sensuous methods of representation, to introduce immodest sentiments and dress even into sacred pictures, " tricking out the Mother of God in the frippery of a ^courtesan." It was against this that Savonarola inveighed. HQ,wa£jio enemy to art itself. His q uarrel was with what he deemed the d ebasemen t q L art, and he endeavoured to purify it from its sensual taint, his contention being that art should be employed to represent elevated and spiritual loveliness and to raise the thoughts to better things. He was the counsellor and inspirer of many artists, and his influence over them was great. He f ounded a sch ool of design in his own convent, and one brother, the painter Fra Bartolommeo della Porta, was his close and devoted friend. Outside the convent not a few of the most distinguished artists were to be reckoned more or less distinctly among his followers — Sandro Botti- i6o SAVONAROLA celli^ Lorenzo di Credi, Luca della Robbia, and Perugino ; the architect Cronaca, the sculptors Baccio da Montelupo, Ferrucci, Baccio Baldini, Giovanni Carniola, Michael Angelo. The last of these, and the greatest, was~'one~oFTiis constant hearers, and after- wards, in old age, that supremely gifted master in the domain of art sought edification in reading and re- reading the sermons of the preacher who had taken a strong hold on his reverential regard. Such men were first attracted by the dash and versatility of Savonarola's genius ; then they were charmed by the frequent splendour, glow, and originality of his thoughts. They saw that he had a real sense of beauty and a feeling for nature, as they themselves had, and that he under- stood the best ideas of classic antiquity ; while at the same time they were conscious of being led by him to larger and loftier conceptions. He unveiled for them new for Tins of (yra.nrjmir ^^n^ l^^^fili nessT ga's^ fresh Rtinaiil us to their imagin ation by flashing on their vision the radiance of the Christian ideal, and thereby opened for them a wi der range of artistic aspir.a tion and endeavour. Hence Dr. Pastor, quoting a number of learned authorities for the statement, declares that his " influence can be traced in many of the works of art produced by his contemporaries," and that certain incidents which Savonarola was wont to describe with graphic eloquence in his sermons were frequently chosen as subjects by Florentine artists. It must be evident, therefore, that one whose attitude towfl.rrls poAtry p nd painting was so sympat hetic and inspiring, could not have been wilfully guilty of destroying any books or pictures of sterling merit in THE PYRAMID OF VANITIES i6i the memorable bonfire of 1497. The charges urged against him of displaying on that occasion a fanatical opposition to literature and art must be based on an exaggerated estimate of the value of the objects which were then consigned to the flames. / ti CHAPTER XVIIl The Sentence of Excommunication Notwithstanding the popular favour he still retained, and the success of his effort to cleanse the Carnival celebrations of their old licence, Savonarola was fully aware of the increasing danger of the position in which he stood. Alexander vi. was still bent on his policy of coercing or enticing Florence to abandon the alliance with France, and he, as the outstanding obstacle to that policy, was constantly menaced. His central in- terest, however, was the revival of true religion in Florence and throughout the land ; and his soul was pained by the deepening horror of the innftoralities and vices go ing on at Rom e, which were spreading a defiling influence far and near. The scandalous doings of the Borgia family, in which the Pope had his own guilty share, were absolutely c rippling th espiritual power-o f the Churc h and covering religion with con- tempt. Savonarola could not hold his peace. What- ever the consequences, he felt imppllArl fp ^utter hi s prnf.paf \r] f.hft n ame of G od ; and, standing in the Cathedral pulpit in Lent, while avoiding any personal attack upon the Pope, he declaimed against the lusts, sensualities, and crimes which were more and more dis- gracing the Papal Court, and enlarged on the need for 162 SENTENCE OF EXCOMMUNICATION 163 the Church's purification. He avowed his determina- tion to rouse the Christian world against t he evil of wh ich Rome was the sea t. " I am here," he said, " be- cause the Lord appointed me to this place, and I await His call, but then will I send forth a mighty cry that shall resound throughout Christendom, and make the corpse of the Church to tremble even as trembled the body of Lazarus at the voice of our Lord." E^ co mmunication might be d _ecreed. bu t he did not fear it-j-he would have his own answer to give which would amaze the world. In striving to restore religion to its purity and power, he was prepared for a worse fate than excommunication. " O Lord, I seek only Thy cross, ... let me give my blood for Thee, even as Thou gavest Thine for me." In fact, excommunication appeared now only an in- cident in the stern conflict which he felt under an imperative obligation to carry on to its utmost issues. The ca use of religion and righteousness was je opard ised by the notorious iniquities in which the £g^ and his family were steeped, and the whole moral passion of Savonarola's soul was stirred. Though a martyr's death should be the penalty, he could make no com- promise at a juncture so momentous. He would kindle the indignation of Europe, and put forth a supreme effort to stem the tide of pollution which was flowing from the metropolis of Christendom. That it was a desperate struggle he knew ; he had a clear com- prehension of the malignant forces which would be aroused against himself ; but an inward constraint was upon him to go forward, and, once committed, there could be no turning back. The Pope was highly enraged at those Lent f ulmina- 1 64 SAVONAROLA tions, which were duly retailed to him in factiously exaggerated reports. Alexander vi. was already strongly incensed against Savonarola on account of his cool and resolute resistance to the order requiring the union of San Marco's and the convents associated with it to the newly-created Tusco-Roman Congrega- tion, of which Cardinal CarafFa, an old friend and well- wisher, had been appointed as head. For the moment, however, Al^xg^nder, always resourceful in statecraft, disguised his irritation, and adopted an adroit means of circumventing the Florentine Friar. He secretly a ppealed to the self-interest of the Florentines by offerin g: to obtain for them the restoration of Pisa, provided they would show themselves " good Italians," br eak their alli ance_with France, and join the Holy League. Attractive as the proposal seemed, the Florentines had their doubts as to its sincerity. Their special envoy to Rome, Ser Alessandro Bracci, was instructed to tell the Pope that while the Floren- tines were not only " good " but " excellent Italians," and had no wish to injure any Italian power, they ro uld not f^bandon their alli ance with France. To this he received the sarcastic reply, ""Sir Secretary, you are as fat as Ourself, but you have come on a lean mission ; and if you have nothing else to say, you may be gone." Then, after asserting his belief that the obstinacy of the Florentines was due to faith in the prophecies of their "chattering friar," Alexander broadly hinted a threat of forcing Florence into submission and creating a revolution in its affairs. The threat was soon put into execution. Alexander gave encouragement to Piero de Medici, who had been hanging on at Rome and leading a loose, spendthrift SENTENCE OF EXCOMMUNICATION 165 life, to make another attempt on Florence and recover his place there. The state of parties in the city at the time appeared to favour the enterprise. The younger members of the aristocratic families had at once taken ad vantage of Valori's new law, redncinfy the age f or g.rlT]]j,c!Qinn fr> f>iA HT-Qaf riQ^iy^ml^ and had thrown their weight into the political scale. There had happened also a certain fluctuation of feeling, such as is witnessed not infrequently in connection with the public life of a community — a distinct swervin g of opinion, an ebb of popular interest, by which the b alanc^Tof partie s is un- e xpectedly revers ed. And so it came about that when Valori's two months' term of oflfice expired and a new Signory was elected for M arch and Apr il, the repre- sentatives of the A rrabbiati an d Medici together were in the majority , and chose an influential and trusted adherent of the Medici cause, B ernardo del Ne ro, for the post of Gonfaloniers This was a blow to Savon- arola, and a triumph for his foes ; to Piero de Medici it furnished an opportunity for his personal designs, which he promptly proceeded to turn to account, with the Pope's blessing and support to aid him. Cheered on by a message from his partisans in Florence, Piero mustered a force of thirteen hundred men, and by rapid marches was soon close to the city gates. The alarm, however, had been given, and the friends of liberal government were on their guard and prepared. The gates were fortified with cannon, and kept sternly closed, .and even Bernardo del Nero, who had mean- while sent an urgent warning to Piero to delay his attack for the time, was constrained by the current of popular sentiment to put on an appearance of enthusi- asm for the city's defence. For a whole day Piero 1 66 SAVONAROLA waited with his troops outside the walls, but no sign of welcome or of co-operation came from his faction within ; and, having no spirit to run desperate risks, he retired in discomfiture, the victim of delusive pro- mises and false hopes, but leaving behiiiiLJiiQi. in Flor ence itself a ferment of suspicions and fears and embitte^^^ party feeling destined to cause grave socia l and political trouble ere l ong. The Medicean cause was thus .for the moment dis- credited. The Pope disowned all connection with Piero. The ever-active Arrabbiati, seizing their advan- tage, so worked on the popular unrest as to gain the ascendancy at the next election, and at the beginning of Ma y 1497 a Signory avowedly hostile to Sav onarola waa-4ilac£d_iiL_power. The effect was soon visible in riotous outbreaks and in the renewal of those licen- ti ous scen es which had now for a considerable period been suppressed. It was patent in many ways that a ^^ rea ction against Savonaro la's rtinral rloiyiinpfinn had '^^egun. His followers were still a large and powerful body', and by their simple dress and devout dem eanour the Piagnoni could everywhere be recogn ised. All lovers a £ f)r(] f^.r ATirl good govprriTpprtt, wpr^ aIso on his side, fl.nd honoured him for his politic al capacity, his public spirit, and his unblemished purity of life. But the sovereignty he had wielded over the manners, habits, and thoughts of the people was gradually slip- ping from his grasp. In the minds of many, a keen disappo intment harl bftpn r.ansfid by th^ fnihir e of his pre dictions regarding the great things t o be accom- plishoj ^y Cha rles viii., and accordingly their faith in the preacher, whom they had once so ardently revered as a prophet of the Lord, was losing its hold, SENTENCE OF EXCOMMUNICATION 167 Owing partly to the impaired condition of h is health , and partly to the delic^i^y of Jjtis. position at this parti- cular stage of his controversy with Rome, Savonarola appea red less frequently than usual i n the_Bulpit. The argu ments which he was obliged to employ in defendi ng^ hims elf against his traducers . and in vindicating his attitude towards the Pope and his disobedience to the mandate regarding the Tusco-Roman Congregation, robb ed his pr eac hing of its wontmL-directness and freedom. He was hampe red by the tone of self -justi- fication which the situation was more and moretorcing upon him, and which largely coloured his sermons during this period. Moreover, the Pope's further action was still a matter of suspense ; and while the position was complicated and liable to miscon- struction in the eyes of the world, he felt that it was only under some special call or distinct neces- sity that he could serve any good end by speaking in public. The time for open defiance had not yet come. In consequence, perhaps, of this greater seclusion and rare r app eara nce in th e_ pul pit, the decline . of Savgnarola/s^power more^ adily set in. Nevertheless, from the first the causes of that decline must have been present, although for a while their operation was arrested by the subduing force of so lofty and master- ful a personality. Against the enforcement by formal enactments and prohibitions of a hi ^h-pitched and austerejnorality up on a p ^ople_iig^ither by natiyejem- per ament j QorJh^ training prepa red^Jor-it, the reaction was «irir<^^ gnnnpr nr later, _^^ comc. Its comiug was now evident in the accession to political influence of the great Friar's opponents, and in the relaxed decorum 1 68 SAVONAROLA of life and conduct generally by which that circum- stance was followed. Savonarola was made the object of an insulting and villainously - purposed demonstration. It had been announced that he was to preach on Ascension Day, the 4th of May, before an order of the Signory pro- hibiting sermons in any of the churches should come into force — an order professedly prompted by anxiety to prevent the spread of the plague which was threat- ening the city. It was his last chance, for a time at least, of addressing the people, and he resolved to embrace it. During the previous night the Co mpagna cci, who, under their insolent leader, Dolfo Spini, were gaining courage to pursue their lawl£SS_cour§es, managed to steal into the Cathedral, where they befouled the pulpit with filth, spread the raw skin of an ass over it, and ran nails with their points upwards into the board on which he was wont to strike his hands in the excitement of speaking. But the outrage was dis- covered in good time, and all traces of it cleared away ; and the preacher's enemies had the mortification of seeing him ascend and begin his discourse with per- fect calmness. It was a discourse on the power of faith, intended to encourage the pious in meeting the trying times for religion and social well-being which evidently w^ere at hand. Suddenly there was a crash ; an alm s-box had been broken off from its place on the wall anii-Jiiiig_on_the floor^ Itwas the doing of the graceless young aristocrats, who were not to be baffled in their evil-minded designs. A panic seized the co n- g regati on ; there was a wi ld rush for the d oors, and a scene of frantic confusion ensued. Friends and foes alike made a dash for the pulpit, the one to defend the SENTENCE OF EXCOMMUNICATION 169 preacher, the other to assail him. Savonarola remained bent over the desk in silent prayer, and not till the tumult had so far subsided did he descend and accept the protection of his loyal adherents, who now, armed with swords and spears, escorted him with shouts of Viva Cristo and brandishing of weapons to his convent gate. This scandalous scene was noised abroad and became the talk of the day all over Italy. The result in Florence was an edict of the Signory, positively fo r- bidd ing friars of any kind to preach without th eir pe rmission , while the wooden galleries provided for Savonarola's immense audiences were all removed. There was even a suggestion mooted that thjo^^re- serv ation of the public peace required that Savonaro la himself should be exTled, although — a.nd this is signi- ficant of the change of feeling which had occurred — the real authors of the Cathedral disturbance were allowed to go unpunished. At Rome the news of the tu mult on Ascension Day hastened the Po pe's action in faking his long contemplated step and signing the Briaf^of Excommunication. That former disconifiled rivaI7Fra Mariano, it seems, had been enviously busy in instigating Alexander to move in this direction, and to crush the man whom he vilified as " the per- dition of the Florentine people." Other adversaries also used their influence for the same end, and on 13th May the formidable document was issued. It was a remarkable production. Describing Savonarola as " a certain Fra Girolamo," who was reported to be Vicar of San Marco in Florence, and who had sown abroad pernicious doctrine to the scandal and ruin of simple souls, it proceeded to state that he '? 170 SAVONAROLA had been commanded in a Brief to desist f rom preach ing, and cojoao-io-JBiime to obtain pardon for his errors. He had, however, d eclined to ob ey; yet in the hope that he would be converted by clemency, his excuses had been accepted and his disobedience treated with gracious forbearance. That hope had been disappointed, and accordingly another Brief had been issued, ordai:Qmg that he sho^ i jd nnitpi. his conyent_ w ith th e_ new YTusco-Rom anCong^r^ation. Still he had persisted in his obstinacy, setting the ordinance at nought and disregarding the ecclesiastical censures which he had thereby incurred. " Wherefore we command you, on all festivals, and in presence of the people, to declare the said Fra Girolamo ex- communicate, and to be held as such by all men, for his failure to obey our admonitions and commands. Moreover, all persons whatsoever are to be warned that they are to avoid him as excommunicated and suspected of heresy, under pain of the same penalty." Ere receiving this Brief, but clearly apprehensive that the blow was impending, Savonarola wrote a letter to the Pope, complaining that heed had been given only to the false accusations of his enemies, while the evidence in disproof of those accusations had been ignored. He had never, he protested, made any personal attack upon the Pope as in former days he had had to rebuke Fra Mariano for doing. He was always ready to submit himself to the judgment of the Church, and preached no other doctrine than that of the Holy Fathers, as would soon be proved to the whole world in his forthcoming work. The Triumph of the Cross. If all human help should fail him, he will trust in God, SENTENCE OF EXCOMMUNICATION 171 It appears from subsequent correspondence between the Florentine envoys in Rome and the Council of Ten, that this let j^er had a softening effect on Alexander V I., and .jiioved him to regret that he hnd pigriorl tAtA E rjef. "Rut, it came too late. The judgment had been pronounced and the document conveying it despatched before the letter itself was penned. From various causes the Brief of Excommunicatio n was not-iMiveredr-in Floren ce till the 18th of June . It was addressed to the convents of Santa Maria Novella, Santa Croce, Santo Spirito, the Badia, and the Annunziata; and in the churches attached to these houses it was solemnly read out at night to the assembled monks, amid the glimmer of candles and the occasional tinkle of bells. When the last word was reached, the lights were suddenly extin- guished, leaving the listeners to retire in silence and gloom. Immediately copies of the document were posted up at the church doors, and all Florence was moved by the publication of the awful sentence against a man who had filled so large a place in the thoughts and life of the citizens. The Piagnoni and all lovers of order were thrown into grief; the Arrabbiati were exultant — the great obs tacle to their hopes of co n- verting the R epublic j nfoan ari stocratic oligar chy wa.cj riQw qfrnnV rlr>wri~"lrt Tnnnfl.sf,i> and clerical circles the denouncer of ecclesiastical delinquencies and all his brethren at San Marco were haughtily ostracised. Very soon, moreover, the bonds of moral re straint were thrown o ff. The wild and profligate ^ elements in the population broke loose, and the Compagnacci led the way in headstrong profanity. 172 SAVONAROLA J^iotousness and revelry again disturbed the streets at night ; vice and wantonness appeared in open day ; the taverns were once more filled ; there was a wide- spread return to ex travagance and friYolitv. Now that the p 9tent v oice which had so long k ept th e imm oral tendencies of men under con trol_v^as con- deniii£iL.to__silence, there was a rebound to the old recklessness and licence. In the meantime Savonarola in his own way, and his influential sympathisers in theirs, were endeavour- ing to meet the stroke dealt by the Papal Brief. He wrote in great haste an Epistle against the Sur- w/ re 2^titious Excommuni cation , addressed not to the Pope, but to " all (Jhristians, beloved of God." In that letter he reasserted his mission as God's mes- senger to announce the tribulations which were to fall on Italy, and especially on Rome, for the removal of evils and the renovation of the Church; and then he proceeded to argue that the ex communication was inv alid because i t was bas ed on misrepresentat ions, and put forth with an evil intention in opposition to God and the truth. He had never, he affirmed, been disobedient to the Holy Roman Church, nor to the Pope, nor to any Superior of his, down to that present hour. " For we ought to obey our Superior in so far as he holds the place of God ; but he does not hold the place of God, and is ^ot our Sup eri^or, '^^^ '^n h^ OQTmTianrlq wViaf ia pnnf j»a, ry to God. Accord- ingly, it has happened that in such a case as this I have not obeyed, knowing that neither God nor the Church wishes me to obey in things that are contrary to their commands." In closing he said that if his arguments were not listened to and further steps SENTENCE OF EXCOMMUNICATION 173 were taken against him, he would make the truth known to all the world in such a fashion that no one should be able to gainsay it. He followed this . up by a second letter, Ajj ainst th e Sentence of Ex - ^^ c ornniunic aiim^^Qdlin^ with the stibject specially in the light of the views of the leading authorities on ecclesiastical law, and particularly quoting Gerson's teaching that to yi<^1d nng^i^jfied sub mission to a n u njust sentence would be to show th.e j)atifiiicfi-of-an ass an d the foolish timidity of a h are ; that it is perfectly la wful to appeal from the Pope to a General Council ; and that in many cases a Pope may be disobeyed when he scandalously abuses his power to an evil end. The cogency of this reasoning has been subjected to a searching criticism by Roman Catholic writers, and the criticisms all lead to the same conclusion. When full credit has been given to the sincerity of Savonarola's motives, and when the value of his work for the reform of morals has been recognised, he is still pronounced by those writers as flagran tly at fault _fnr h is i nsubordination in refusing acquiesc ence f.n t'hfi f'nTTiT nands of his ecclesiastical supe rior. His attitude in adhering to his own honest conviction of right and ignoring the decrees of the Pope on the ground of their alleged injustice, is condemned as unwarrantable presumption. It is the old and endless nnntrnyprsy bp.twpf^n (.hp. absolute autho rity clai mjed by the Roman Ca th olic Church on t he one hand, and the natural rights asserted on be half of the human soul and conscience on the ot her — a" hope- less and irr econcilable antagon ism. So long as a religious corporation, skilfully organised and welded 174 SAVONAROLA together, insists on the ordinances of its official head being received, outwardly at least, with unqualified submission, and so long as the spirit of man, facing the vital questions of right and wrong, dares to speak according to its own judgment and act on its own warrant, the conflict will continue ; and no logic of argument, nothing but the logic of events and the slow progress of the world's enlightenment, will avail for its settlement. The demands of absolutism are held as completely above reason ; they are bound up with so many vested interests, and are so essential to the maintenance of the old traditional power and dazzling prestige and glory, that there is no prospect of their ever being abated until the soul's deep instincts for freedom awake to strength and gather courage to defy them. CHAPTER XIX Six Months of Silence Tre ^ plagnpi hax\ hroVf^n out and was working its ravages in Florence when Savo];iajxda._iauiidJiimsel£ plac ed under ban by the excommunicatory Brief. People were hurrying out of tlie^city and seeking safety in the purer atmosphere of the country hamlets and villages. The crowded condition of San Marco's was a source of anxiety. Considering the large number who had joined the brotherhood through the attraction of its Prior's fame and gifts, there was reason to fear a heavy amount of suffering and mortality should the terrible malady seize on a community so closely pent up together. Savonarola met the emergency with that practical wisdom and bold decision which he so often displayed. He seni , awa y the novic es and younger friars to places where the contagion was less likely to reach them, and then devoted himself to the edification of the brethren left behind and to the service of the sick. F riends plea ded wit h him to flee, and some of his wealthier adherents oflered him in their own villas a secure retreat from the danger. But whatever faults might be detected in him, he never failed to prove that he had a heart too big, sound, and true to yield to personal fear. He 176 176 SAVONAROLA remained with steadfast resolve at his post of duty. His usefulness, however, at that time of distress was circumscribed by the ecclesiastical interdict resting upon him. Still the gates of his convent were open to all who might resort to him for comfort, and in those weeks of trouble and dread, when fifty or sixty were dying in a day in the pesti 1 p.r> cfi-f^tri fjf^ ci ^y , and the burden of a great awe and sorrow lay on people's minds, there were many who found in his ready sympathy and gracious counsels a rich sustain- ing strength. And while in this way he cheered the sad and anxious around him in Florence itself, he did not forget those friends at a distance who were in- volved in the severe strain and concern caused by the g eneral calamity. To not a few of them he wrote letters of encouragement, calming their fears, and exhorting them to trust in God. He wrote also to his own family at Ferrara, assuring them of the safety of his brother vFra Maurelio, who had for some time been associated with him as a member of the San Marco brotherhood, and expressing a tenderness of affection still unchilled by all the absorbing interests of his life and all his experience of fame and power. One letter belonging to this period possesses a pecu- liar importance. It was not occasioned, however, by the troubles connected with the plague, but by a tragical event which threw into blacker relief than ever the horrors and crimes which were bringing on Rome the scorn of the world. On Jji£, 14th xtLJ-iuae, the .^Eopa's, eldest son^Piero Borgia, Duke of Gandia, was foully done, to .death and his body Jiuijg^ ijato the Ti^er, from which it was dragged out two days later. Suspicion fell on several distinguished members of the SIX MONTHS OF SILENCE 177 Papal Court, and among others on the notorious Qsesar B^gisb, the m urdered man's o w n b rother; but the police completely failed in discovering the actual perpetrator of the deed, although the investigations revealed an appalling amount of base jealousy and treachery in the highest quarters. The consternation and distress in the Papal palace were unexampled. TT-iP^PnpA -y^rga nvprwhplmp.d with griftf, a grief that threatened to rend' his heart in sunder. As the Venetian Ambassador in one of his despatches declared, " The wild wail of the bereaved old man in the Castle of St. Angelo was heard in the streets around." He shut himself up in his room, and for four days neither ate nor drank, nor had a moment's sleep. This out- burst of grief was followed by a spasm of remorse. AJ.esander took the blow as j^si tation from G od and a warning to him to return from the error of his ways. He made good resolutions, and, summoning a Con- sistory, he professed his determination to enter on a real .£ffort__aL im provement both in his own l ife and i rL thft {T hnrp.h. He was to renounce all favouritism in the disposal of ecclesiastical benefices; he was to begin the reform in himself, in his family, and his court, and so proceed through all the ranks of the Church till the whole work should be accomplished. And as a practical proof of the sincerity of his in- tentions, he appoi nted six cardinals on the spot to f^inf^tHnt^ tVA flonimisisi^^ th^^ sh^uVl f^arry th^rf^f^rm i nto eff ect. When this startling news reached Florence, Savonarola took up his pen and addressed a letter of condolence to the afflicted and penitent Pontiff under whose terrible anathema he now lay. He probably judged 12 178 SAVONAROLA that a time when the old man's mind would be open to sacred impressions, and in conciliatory but earnest terms he urged on him the power and value of faith as a source of strength in adversity. " Blessed is he who is called to this gift of faith, without which no one can have peace. Let your Holiness respond to this blessed call, so that soon your mourning may be turned into joy." He, the writer, was himself in suffering for the sake of a work which he had at heart, and he pleaded with the bereaved father to help forward that work and not give ear to the wicked; then would the Lord bestow on him the oil of gladness for the spirit of grief. He had written, he protested, under the prompting of charity and in all humility, desiring that his Holiness might find comfort in God. ^'- May He console you in your tribulation." This letter was taken in good part, and tended to further the exertions which the authorities of Florence were making through their envoys at Rome toj^duce the Pope to withdraw the sentenc e of excom mumoa-- tienT SiSander, indeed, was so far moved by the influences brought to bear upon him, that h^ deleg a.ted thexQ.nsideration of Savonarola's case to the Commis- sioB-iif JB^eform which he had just recently appointed. Pet itions an d counte r-petitions went up to Rome from Florence. The Arrabbiati, on their side, renewed their old accusations, and pressed for a confirmation of the Papal decree. On the other hand, the brethren of San Marco pleaded earnestly for its removal, and enlarged on the purity of their Prior's doctrines and the lofty saintliness of his life; while one influential petition, signed by three hundred and sixty-three leading citi- zens, whom the plague had not yet driven away, was SIX MONTHS OF SILENCE 179 equally strong in its testimony in Savonarola's favour. The new Signory also, which this time was friendly, sent a letter to the Pope, laying stress on the eminent virtues of the condemned Friar, the wonderful fruits of his moral reformation, and the holy manner in which he lived. Weeks passed; the plague gradually abated; fugi- tive citizens returned to their homes, and Florence i'§smned.._it^_usual routine; but there was no sign of the recall of the excommunication. Suddenly in August a whirlwind of agitation was raised, by the disclQau£e--Q£_ Mtherto unknown fa g ts respecting the attempted surprise of the city by PjfiiQ ^de Me dici a few" months before. Through the arrest of an out- lawed Medicean partisan, Lamberto delF Antfilja^ evi- denQe_£ama-ia_light which f asten^ the blame of t hat plot on five citizens of ^reat social distin ction, whose complicity had not previously been suspected. There were NiccoliL-Bidalfi and Lorenzo Tornaibuoni, both related to the Medici family. Then there were Gia^ vannU Iambi and Giono zzo Pucci, the one a rich mer- chant, and the other a youth of noble birth and great talent. But the most striking figure of all was the venerable B ernardo del Ner o, a man of high character and reputation, and now seYoniy^ifi^e years of ag e, who had beenJlaa f aloniere at the time when the m ove was ma de to put the traitoro us scheme into execution. It was pleaded on his behalf that his only offence was that he had known of the conspiracy and had not dis- closed it. On the other hand, it was argued that such conduct in the chief of the State was criminal in its turpitude. In view of the powerful connections of the accused, i8o SAVONAROLA the case was found most embarrassing to deal with, and the various bodies of officials shifted the respon- sibility of condemnation from one to another. The Co uncil of the Eig^ht threw on the Signorvi_ the_la8k q L deciding; the Si^n ory referr ed judgment to a mixed assem bly, first of twenty, then of aQa_hiliidred and fV>irty-ST^ rAprptaAnfafi\7A citizcus ; and in the last resort the Eight wpt p. compe l led to p ronounce the vp,r- dick- When the mixed tribunal of twenty passed a sftntft]iPft of gnilty, an appeal to the Greater Council was offered, but declined. After the final condemna- tion came, however, the ri ^ht of ap peal, wasLrasolutely claimed, and over this claim there was fierce and pro- tracted debate in the Signory, giving rise to dissensions and tumults highly dangerous to the welfare and safety of the city; for outside, popular ind igiiftti on a gai n st the iimtorsjwas. strong. Four of the Signory were in favour of the appeal being granted, five against it; and it seemed as if a clear and emphatic decision was hopeless, till Francesco Valori, with his impetuous energy, stepped forward in'ibtirning wrath to the table, and, seizing the ballot-box, cried out, " Let jus tice at once be done." and so overpowered the dissentient members by his denunciation of the accused, that they gave their ^^'^tf^ f^r t^^ QPTiff^nf^A nf death. The con- demned men were granted but little time to prepare for their tragic end. An attempt by their friends to evoke compassion for them., by bringing them out barefooted and in their chains to the Council hall, entirely failed in its purpose, and at two o'clock in the morning, in the courtyard of the Bargello, they were led to the block and bowed their heads to the axe of the executioner. SIX MONTHS OF SILENCE i8i To all these incidents and the commotion created by them it cannot be supposed that Savonarola was indifferent. His feelings with regard to the men charged with treason must have been distinctly adverse as the evidence of their guilt became revealed. The free, self-governing Republic was dear to his heart ; of the veiled despotism of the Medici regime he had an invincible abhorrence, and he dre aded the possib ility of itsuieatoration. With such sentiments so deeply rooted, it was not to be expected that he would look with aught but reprobation on those conspirators by whose conduct the Republic had been placed in jeopardy. He has been ce nsured for not interpo sing in f avour o f mercyj,_ajid_especrally for not exertm^^his influence to proe^M ^ .fn r the unhappy men the privilege of appeal to the-Greater_Coiincil. It must be remembered, however, that the nppp^,] f,f> fha r[rpnfAr nn nnn.il was a iTiPfl.snre pass ed contrary to his personal advice_and-jvvishes. George Eliot has failed to give due weight to this consideration, and in her Romola she has presented Savonarola's conduct in the matter in a dubious light, as if he had been seriously atjajiliLinjiotexerting_his pnwAT fr> KPpnrA for fb^ r>r>r>rlPTr>nprl mpn fViA vpryjiaghf. olr^ppen.l whip.h ha.d b^P^i, estnblish^d— ihrongh his instrumentality. It is necessary to recall the fact that liejmdjije^gr^v^cai^d a right of appeal to the Greater Council. Th e appeal whiclTT e~(TTd advocate, but which, greatly to his disappointment, was not carried, was an appeal to a more 1iir| itpd and, as he believed, more inte lligent _ai)d dpIibpT ative tri bunal; and it would therefore have been against his better judgment to submit a case involving the question of life or death to the larger assembly, where the heat of party prejudice / tl 182 SAVONAROLA and feeling might be apt to sway the decision. Besides, the case had actually been tried before the very kind of court which accorded best with his ideas, when it was submitted to the mixed tribunal of one hun dred and thirty- six rcpres pntative citizens ; and conse- quently, in his view, all tliat) justice required Jiad, been done. As to the assertion that he ought to have put in a plea for mercy, it is sufficient answer to point out the circumstance that the pnlpit was rlosp.rl to him no w, and that he was deb^red from-any^uitable opportunity of moving the piiblic^mind, while the influential men among his followers, like Valori and others, who were taking a prominent part in public work, were too absorbingly intent on combating the designs of oppos- ing factions, and safeguarding what they deemed the interests of free government, to give much heed to any such plea. Savonarola wa s no longer the sup reme irector of the^cTEys poTitical_businejis.__J[ie_was still the_pDpulaiL idol, the outstanding figure that gave to Florence its proud and far-extending renown, although the Pope's ban and the Signory's hesitating attitude on account of it were shaking the old enthusiastic con- fidence among certain sections of the community. But the^ place he h ad_held in t ha-p^hfins of JFjprpjip.ft was now filifid^b y men more d irectly p.onnp.rnftd with polit- ical life . At a hazardo us emergency, when the city was menaced with anarcliyTirnd there was no public man strong and wise enough to take.jbhe helm and guide the State, he, by his masterly gifts and cultured sagacity, had met the need of the hour, and almost di ctated the constit ut ion of the reviv ed Republic^ TTh e need ha d-passed ; the constitution framed under his advice was in full working order ; the political activity SIX MONTHS OF SILENCE 183 of the commonwealth could go on without his personal leadership ; and — weightiest fact of all, perhaps — the very spi rit of fm edom which he had kindled and called to life was learnjng^jjx act on its own-impulse, and growing disposed to claim its own independence in the administration of affairs. Those, therefore, who blame him for not interfering in behalf of the condemned conspirators fail to make due allowance for all the facts of the situation at that particular crisis. One result of the blow given to the plotters against the Republic was the retu rn to suprem acr^joL^Savon- arola/s_ friends, the Piagnoni. The various Signories elected during the remainder of this year 1497 were all distinctly on his side. They put forth every effort to obtain the revocation of the Papal censure. It was felt to be a loss to the city, that the mighty voice which had stirred men to higher aims and touched the finer chords of their nature by its eloquent calls to faith and godliness, should be doomed so long to silence. It was felt also that the friction with Rome into which Florence was drawn by reason of the excommunication was detrimental to its peace and general prosperity. While the negotiations of the Signory were proceeding, an offer was made to Savonarola himself which showed that theJIoly^FatheF'was disposed to yield. He was given to tmderstand, through the Cardinal of Siena, that on pa.yment^ Jive thousand cro wns to a ce rtain creditor of the 1fl,ttf^r"^?T?gnTtg,fy 7~TFft" hn.n .wAw^f} be reniDveS! Thls~was an indirect assurance that full absolution might be purchased, but Savonarola rejected the^roposalrbelTeving, as he said, in writing to a friend, that he would be far more deeply banned were he to accept absolution at such a price. f- 184 SAVONAROLA As the period of silence lengthened out, the evidences of Savonarola's liter£ti*y activity began to appear. Several pamphlets and tractates issued from his pen — j The Lawyentation of .the_BTi(hof_^^^ "^ Step»~jQ^LM,3^piTiiuaLMiJ^_^^ BonaventurcL^ On the Exercise of Charity , and j h^^fin^ly^iiwritten Epistle to^^^^ters of the ' Third O rder_of St. Dominic. It was ithenalso'^ that Tie published the elaborate theological treatise which for many months had engaged his time and thought, The^J!xjdimipli.^af--4h^~~Cross. It is in this work that we find the most convincing proofs of Savonarola's learning and intellectual power. It brings into view his clear and easy comman d of the sc holastic, and also of the most advanced philosophic, knowledge of his_age. Its style, which presents a marked con- trast to that of his sermons, is calm, carefully logical, dispassionate. The d^sign^fjhejgiook is. to_establish on strictly rational grounds the Divine origin and jtruth of Clmstiajaity^as^ religion whose doctrines, though above the power of reason to discover, are yet in perf ect harijnouy with, rpason wh^n j ftyftfllpd. It is here that we find its originality. The method adopted is a decid£d_.d£parture from the form of argument usually followed up to that day, and~ls more in keepin g with the denmnds_of themodern spirit. " In this book," it is said in the Introduction, " we wish to proceed only by reasonings ; we shall invoke no authority, but act as if it were only necessary to believe our own reason and experience ; for all men are compelled, under pain of folly, to pnnsi^nf. fp natural reason." On the lines thus laid down Savonarola proceeds to discourse in the first book on the existence and attributes of God ; in the second, on the truth and excellence of the SIX MONTHS OF SILENCE 185 Chr istian r eligjoii;, in the third, on the particular Christian doctrines and the principles of Ciiristian mor ality and the sacrain ent^ ; in the fonrth and last, on the supe riority of C hristianity to all other forms of faith; and here he most distinctly expresses the opinion, which ought to have been sufficient to clear awa^yi alL_suspi£ion_jof_Jieresy, that the chair of St. Peter is the centre of the Roman Church, and that whoever departs from the unity and doctrines of the Roman Church unquestionably departs from Christ. The whole argument of the work is summed up in ^ these eloquent words : " If we consider the power that Jesus Christ has employed to surmount so many gods, emperors, kings, tyrants, philosophers, and heretics ; to subjugate without arms, without riches, without help of human wisdom, so many barbarous nations; if we represent to ourselves the faith, constancy, and firmness of so many saints martyred for the Christian faith ; the admirable wisdom used by Jesus Christ to illuminate in so short a time the whole world with the splendours of truth, and to purify it from the pollution of so many crimes and errors ; if we add to all this, the consideration of His immense kindness, by means of which He has attracted to His love an infinite number of men, who, not content with despising perishable things, have wished to suffer death rather than yield a single iota of their faith — we shall be compeUed to conf essjt he divinity of Christi anity. What man, what god, other than Jesus Christ, has ever accomplished anything like it ? . . . The philosophers did not sufficiently comprehend the true end of life ; the astrologers lost themselves in the midst of a thousand superstitions ; the idolaters had no truth nor ,/A SAVONAROLA ' * modesty ; the Jews are confounded by their own -z prophets, and by the captivity to which they are now ^ reduced ; the heretics bear in their many divisions the proof of their errors ; Mahometanism falls before the attack of a simple philosophy ; Christianity alone remains, confirmed and ratified by the double power and double light of nature and grace — by the holy life of Christians — by wisdom, works, and miracles, which nourish the mind : therefore it is Divine. ... If, then, we^have not lost all our understanding, we must believe that the faith of Jesus Christ is the true faith ; that there is another life where we shall appear in person before the tribunal of that formidable Judge, who will place the wicked on His left hand, in torments, like impure goats, and the good on His right hand, in felicity, like sacred sheep, and will give them the privilege of seeing God face to face — God Ttiune and One, immense, ineffable — in whom the saints will eternally possess all blessedness, by the grace of the invincible and triumphant Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, to whom be honour, power, empire, and glory, through ages of ages. Amen. " CHAPTER XX The Pope Defied In vain the Signory interceded and Savonarola waited ; A lexander vi. gave no indication of cancelling the ex- communicatory Brief. His spasm of compunction had subsided. He did not possess the moral strength to abandon his licentious habits. His penitential resolves, adopted in a moment of anguish and sorrow, had passed away and were forgotten, and he was once more foll owing j iis old course of arrogant grasping, self-indufgencfe, and wily intrigue. He could: no longer accuse Savonarola of schisnToiTheresy. Th e Triu mph gf_Jka-Opoes, with its powerful defence of theunrEy and the doctrines of the Church, removed all ground for such a charge. The Commission of Cardinals also, to whom his case had been referred, had pronounced the book nTn'mpp.n.phablp^ it^ its orthodoxy. Yet the very presence of the strong-minded Friar in Florence was a danger to the policy on which Alexander was bent. He made overtures to the Signory to have Savonarola sent to Rome, but as they could not see their way to comply with the proposal, he stiffened himself into an attitude of relentless displeasure. The magistrates felt their strained relations with the Pope severely trying. There was a large amount 187 1 88 SAVONAROLA of uneasines s and apprehension, for the neighbouring Italian powers were waiting for their opportunity to take Florence at a disadvantage, and those responsible for the public safety were in anxious dread of the political complications which might at any moment arise. Moreover, the devout among the inhabitants, deprived of the inspiring ministrations of their favourite preacher, were depressed and dissatisfied. Th e^ moral condition of the city was going fro m bad to worse! Since the withdrawal of Savonarola's re- straining influence, the increase of vice and reckless- ness had become glaring, and as the later months of 1497 wore on, the situation grew more intolerable. At last, on Christmas Day, Savonarola took a bold and decisive step. He three times publicly adminis- tered the Mass at San Marco, and led a solemn pro- cession through the cloisters. The magistrates soon displayed their sympathy with him in this act of defiance, by going on the feast of the Epiphany to present oflferings in San Marco Church, and by kissing the hand of Savonarola as he stood at the high altar. Ere many weeks elapsed, arrangements were made, with the full approval of the Signory, for his reap- pearance in the pulpit of the Duomo, and to provide for the crowds expected the wooden galleries were put up once more. The Archbishop's vicar attempted to prevent his preaching, by issuing a mandate forbidding all from attending, on the pain of sharing in the sen- tence of excommunication, and of being cut off* from the sacraments and Christian burial ; but the Signory made short work of this proclamation, and threatened to declare the vicar a rebel unless it was at once with- drawn. THE POPE DEFIED 189 Accordingly, on Septuagesima Sunday^ 11th HPefe — rnt^gy 1 4.Q8,^ S avonarol a stood up in the old place, which had been to him as a veritable throne, and from which, by the power of his genius, eloquence, and per- sonal character, he had so often swn^red Ihejjves and fnr tnnfis of the F lnrp.nf.inp. ponplft There, under the aegis of the secular, and in defiance of the ecclesiastical, power, he addressed an overflowing and anxiously expectant congregation, while the more virulent of his opponents vented their spite in noisy demonstrations on the piazza outside the building. As was to be anti- cipated, his discourse dealt largely with the decree of e xcommunication and the line of action respecting it which he had been constrained to pursue. In burning words he ^^f prided hi» HianbprliAnpp "The righteous prince or the good priest," he said, " is merely an in- strument in the Lord's hands for the government of the people. [But when the higher agency is with- drawn from the prince or priegt, he is no longer an instrument, but a broken tool."^ Should the laws and commands issued be contrary to that which is the root and principle of all wisdom, namely, of godly living and charity, that was a proof that the higher agency was absent, and there was then in no wise a n obliga- ti on to ob ey. This, he contended, was palpabTythe case with the sentence of excommunication, for no sooner was it published than the door was opened to every vice, there was a return to crime and profligacy, righteous living was struck down. " Therefore on him that giveth commands opposed to charity, which is the fulfilling of the law, anathema sit Were such a com- mand pronounced by an angel, even by the Virgin Mary herself, and all the saints (which is certainly im- 190 SAVONAROLA possible), anathema sit And if any Pope hath ever spoken to a contrary effect from this, let him be de»- clared excommunicate. I say not • that such Pope hath ever existed ; but if he hath existed he can have been no instrument of the Lord, but a broken tool. " It is feared by some that, although this excommunication be powerless in heaven, it may have power in the Church. For me it is enough not to be interdicted by Christ. my Lord, if I should seek to be absolved from this excommunication, let me be sent to hell ; I should shrink from seeking absolution as from mortal sin." Ere closing his sermon on that memorable day, he uttered some significant hints, which were greedily seized and kept in mind, as to the supernatural attest- ation which he believed his mission and claims would no doubt receive. " As yet," he said, " no miracle hath been forced from me ; but when the time cometh the Lord will stretch forth His hand." On the two Sun- days following he returned to the charge, and laboured to prove that a Pope may e rrjii his judgments and sejjtenQes; that as his own doctrine was the doctrine of godly living, therefore it proceeded from God, whilst the excommunication was hostile to godly living, and therefore proceeded from the devil. Thus the gauntlet was thrown down. Savonarola '7'sdeclared himself at war wdth the P ope. He had waited for months in the hope that Alexander would relent, and that the scandal of an open rupture with the Holy See might be avoided. Now that Alexander had shown himself implacable, he defied him. It was not, he pleaded, the defiance of mere insubordination. He did not rebel against ecclesiastical authority as such, but THE POPE DEFIED 191 only against the unworthy exercise of ecclesiastical authority by a notoriously unspiritual man, a man who, by the admission of all parties, had bought his official position by bribery, and had ever since dis- graced it by the shameless immorality of his life. When such a man issued decrees based on false re- ports and calculated to promote ungodliness and the ruin of souls, as AlexandeLr had done, he coyld-jiot-Jbe the true_^eprese ntative of the Divine w ill. Nominal head of the Church though he was, it would in that case be mockery to suppose that he was speaking in the name of God. Such was the ground on which Savonarola took his stand, although in his endeavour to vindicate it he was diverted again and again into distracting side issues and ingenious logical subtleties which impaired the force of his reasoning. His fundamental point clearly was — th(^ jrighf. (7f ihp morfll^sgrisp. to ,GlmUA?^gfv even lawfull y constituted authority wheiMihe requirements ^of thaj_jjj.thori ^ cont rav^ n o th e plain dictates of jus- licfi^ That right cannot be argued against. The Koman CatliQliiLChurch does not argue against it. She simply denies, it. She flatly says that no nsuch right e xists, that the moral sense has no title to judge for itself in matters of religious duty, but mu st bo wj mplicitly and without question to ^->'<^_£2-^Tnma.nrls 1f^,id u^r>r> it by the Chur ch's offic i al Siip f^rior. And even although that Superior be a man of corrupt morals and his decrees unjust, such a consideration cannot be accepted as an excuse for withholding obedience. As Dr. Pastor tersely puts it from the Roman Catholic point of view, " According to the teaching of the Church, an evil life cannot deprive the Pope or any other ecclesiastical 192 SAVONAROLA authority of his lawful jurisdiction ; " and again, "Savonarola was bound to obey the Holy See, how- ever it might be desecrated by such an occupant as Alexander vi." /"Savonarola represents the revolt of the deepest moral instincts against such absolute subjection. His mind rebelled against the idea so emphatically main- tained by ecclesiastics, that in the exercise of authority in the Church the moral quality of the official was a matter of indifference. He felt the impulse ist rong within h im to assert the freedom of his o wn con- scie nce>-^ Freedom of conscience, however, was still to him only a profound and irrepressible sentiment ; he had not grasped it, and apparently never did quite grasp it, as a clearly defined principle to which he could give articulate expression. Had he done so, he would most probably have hastened the revolution in reli- gious thought and life which afterwards more slowly came to pass. Nevertheless, it was really th e freedo m of the c onscience which was his underlying, im pellino^ j^ idea. He stood for the soul's indefeasible pre rogative "oFlesting by the light received from God the good or h'^i^^J^f\^rhQX^^, the justice or injustice, of the rules of action which are imposed upon its will. He was mis- guided, let it be confessed, extravagant, fanatical even, in some of the methods and arguments he employed, yet he strove to maintain a resolute protest on behalf of the essential dignity of conscience, and of its war- rant to resist being crushed by the pressure of mere ecclesiastical officialism, when basely or wrongfully inspired ; and by doing so he gave a decided stimulus to the progress of religion. For, indeed, it is by such resistance as he opposed to the unworthy exercise of THE POPE DEFIED 193 authority in the Church that the true authority is up- held. Im plicit obedience to the u njust demands of auth ority ma ;y_ be insisted o n for thp. saTrp. nOTH^iplinp and to save scandal, but wer e obe dienGfi__to unjust deman ds to be generally rendered on such grounds, inju stice would grow more ramp ant and tyrannical still through its very success, as the history of the world repeatedly shows. In fact, it is one of the most unmistakable lessons of history, that those are the best friends of the Church who, by reason of their very loyalty to its spiritual interests, set themselves cour- ageously against all patent wrong-doing or corruption in the men who guide the Church's policy or wield control over its affairs. The crowd of citizens listened with liveliest interest to those sermons of February 1498, in which their excommunicated Fra Girolamo sought to demonst rate the invalidity of the ?apal de cra^ yet the anxiety and hesitation felt by many among them as to the position he thus assumed could not be concealed. They admired and trusted the man for his pure and blameless life ; they honoured him highly for his gifts as a preacher, and for the good work he had done on behalf of religion and the public weal. Still, his defiance of the Holy See struck them with a feeling of pained un- easiness. That sense of the ghostly prestige of Papal author ity in whic h they had been rea red, and unde^^ which the y had always lived^ haunted and over- shadowed their m inds. It was impossible to escape from its spell. They were awed by the very thought of a man being banned by that august and mysterious power which ruled Christendom from Rome, and when they saw their own familiar Friar treating the solemn 13 194 SAVONAROLA ban when pronounced against himself with cool and lofty disdain, they were smitten with something akin to dismay, as if startled by an act of sacrilegious audacity. There can be little doubt that the impression thus produced tended to the withdrawal from Savonarola of much of the confidence and sj^mpathy which hitherto he had so freely received. Men especially of a cautious temper dropped aside from the ranks of his supporters. Evidently he was himself conscious of this impression, and the perception of it beguiled him into one of those lapses into fanaticism which marred the lofty simplicity of his life. In closing his third sermon in the Duomo, he announced his intention of making a daring challenge to prove the truth and sincerity of the course he had taken. On the last day of the Carnival he would say Mass in his convent church, and after- wards come out to the piazza with the Sacrament to give a solemn benediction. Then, he told his audience, they were to offer a special appeal to the Most High. " When I shall take the Sacrament in my hands, let every one earnestly pray that if this work proceeds not from the Lord, He may send upon me fire from heaven which shall then and there draw me down to hell." It was only natural that such a challenge, answering as it did to the expectation of a miraculous proof of his mission which his broad hint a fortnight before had awakened, should attract an enormous concourse of the citizens. On the crowning day of the Carnival the wide Piazza of San Marco was densely thronged. All eyes were riveted, with wondering concern or impatient curiosity, on the temporary wooden pulpit raised outside the door of the convent church. Close round the pulpit were ranged the black-mantled THE POPE DEFIED 195 monks, chaunting their holy psahns, till Savonarola himself appeared, and knelt over the desk in silent prayer. Then, standing up, he addressed the solemnised and motionless throng, and called upon them to join in the prayer which he had asked them to offer to the Almighty. After a brief pause, he raised the conse- crated Host, blessed the multitude as they bent low at the sign, and then uttered the astounding appeal, " Lord, if my deeds be not sincere, if my words come not from Thee, strike me in this moment w^ith Thy thunder." The mass of spectators waited and gazed with absorbed expectancy, but no b olt fell from the sky, no thu nder boomed — Bnt what was manifest to all was thg look of rap t enstasy and r ^Hiflnl. pop fidfinpft in thft dark- rob fid Friar's face . To his devoted disciples that was as a gleam of light from heaven, betokening the Divineapprnval of their ^maste^-^and his work ; and while their murmurs of pleased satisfaction rose and broke the stillness which had hitherto prevailed, he stepped down from the pulpit and retired into the church. That strange scene in front of San Marco was followed in the afternoon of the same day by a second Burning of the Vanities in the Piazza della Signoria. It was a repetition of the bonfire of the previous year, only with a taller pyramid, a larger and more valuable collection of doomed articles, and a more imposing procession, subjected, however, to insulting annoyance by the enraged and envious Compagnacci. When all were gathered round, the pile was duly fired, amid an outburst of chaunts and lauds, the blare of trumpets, and the clanging of bells; and as the flames mounted and roared in their work of destruction, the Te Deuvi was sung. Then there was another procession, first to / 196 SAVONAROLA the front of the Duomo, to hand over the money collected to the Good Men of San Martino, and from there on to the Piazza of San Marco, where monks, clerics, and laymen joined hands in three separate rings, and to the music of hymns danced round a crucifix. So ended Savonarola's last Carnival, the last also of what may be reckoned the outward triumphs of his life. For immediate popular effect, such demonstrations as those which characterised that Carnival day of 1498 may have been a success ; yet for the strengthen- ing of real power they were worse than useless. If Savonarola's cha llenge of the supernatural to kgji was really a graspHbo recover a waning sovereig nty, the issue ere long showed it to be a dire mistake. Not a fewsob er^nind ed j3itizens, who cordially appreciated his public spirit and religious aims, were perplexed and staggered hy^ what seemed to them the dangerous fanaticism of the morningTicene enacted in front of San Marco. They__weia_JLfraid, moreover, of the troublesome extremes to which the onslaught the Friar was instigating upon the " Vanities " might yet be carried. And so > they quietly afa^-ainprl }iPnf>pfnrt.Vi from sho wing themselves on his side. Soon the shadows darkened over that strong and daring spirit, and severely testing complications of circumstance gathered round him at a time when the balance of his disciplined practical sobriety was begin- ning to give way. The course he was following in <^r^^^} ^^^^y^'^gLJ^^^ sentence of excommunica tion was bringin g on Fl orence an e mbarrassmen t_jiot likely to be lon g or w^illingly endur edT While the Carnival celebrations were going on, the Pope was threatening THE POPE DEFIED 197 to lay the city under an Interdict should it continue to countenance the Friar in his rebellious obstinacy. That was a prospect which could only be contemplated with a feeling of dread ; for the effect of the Interdict would inevitably be that Fl orence would be is olated, commercial intercourse with it on the part of other States^'would be forbidden on the pain of excom- munication, the property of Florentine merchants in other cities would be confiscated, and there would be a gene ral crippling of Florentine prosperit y. Thus for Savonarola the situation was increasing in perplexity. The sermons preached in the Cathedral against the validity of the excommunication had been printed one by one as soon as delivered, and circulated all over Italy and even in the lands of the north. In Rome they were read with blazing wrath, the flame of which the vindictive Fra Mariano da Gennazzano did his best to fan with his furious, coarsely-worded harangues. It was in vain that the Flor entine ambassadors, Brac ci and Bons i, exercised their diplomatic skill in pleading the saintly character and useful life of the Fra Giro- lamo and the good intentions of the Signory. Alex- ander VI. would not be pacified. He despatched a Brief to the Signory conveying a clear threat of the Interdict unless the recalcitrant Friar — " the son of perdition," as it styled him — were sent at once to Rome, or at least put under guard and effectually silenced. This was accompanied by another Brief to the Canons of the Duomo, ordering them to prevent him from preaching in their church. Just about the time when those Briefs arrived, but before it was possible to consider the action to be taken respecting 198 SAVONAROLA them, Savonarola once more_p reached in the Ca thedral. It was_ JiTs~Tas t appearancethere. He knew of the Briefs and their terms, and frankly spoke of them in his sermon. " They call me," he said, " the son of perdition. Let this be sent back for answer : ' The man whom you thus designate has neither harlots nor con- cubines, but gives himself up to preaching the faith of Christ. His spiritual children, those who listen to his doctrine, do not pass their time in the commission of crime ; they live virtuously. This friar labours to exalt the Church, and you to destroy it.'" He was not to be daunted by the menaces of those who were responsible for the Church's corruption. " I will thunder in their ears," he declared, "after such a fashion that they will hear indeed. The time draws near to open the casket, and if we but turn the key there will come forth such a stench from the Roman sink that it will spread through all Christendom, and every one will perceive it." This reference to the turning of the key was the first express hint he had ever given in public of the scheme which he had long been meditating, for calling a General Council with the object of investigating t he title of Alexander VL to ho ^'^ the T^ap^l chair, and of taking steps towards the reformation of the Church. Bold and determined, however, as he still was, he judged it prudent to withdraw from the Cathedral pulpit and continue his sermons for the Lent season, which had now begun, in his own church of San Marco. His reason for this step was the fact that now it was not only his own personal position that was in question, but also the public interests of the city ; and, THE POPE DEFIED 199 realising this, he decided to leave the newly-elected Signory, just entering on office, to deal with the message from Rome as far as possible unhampered by any action on his part which might aggravate the emergency. / CHAPTER XXI Gathering Troubles As it turned out, the majority of the nfi,w_Signory on whom fell the duty of answering the Pope's com- mand to compel Savonarola into submission belonged to the Arrabbiati faction. They shrank, however, from the odium of taking the line of action which their own party bias prompted, and called in the aid of the other official bodies in the State to share the responsibility of decision. A Pra tica or confer ence was held, and the subject discussed, with the result t"ter^ r esolution was pas sed against adopting so summary a course as that on which the Pop e-insisted, ^j^ga inst their will, therefore, the Signory were obliged to send to Alexander a letter which, in language at least, was distinctly in favour of_ Savona rola. They extolled his virtues and the good effect of his teach- ing, expressed their inability to face the popular disturbance sure to be aroused by any forcible attempt to suppress him, and begged his Holiness not to withhold his friendly regard and services from their city. Meanwhile, Savonarola went on with his Lent sermons at San Marco, with the Book of Exodus as his theme. The church being too inconveniently crowded. 200 GATHERING TROUBLES 201 he was under the necessity of restricting the attend- ance on week-days to men only, with the exception of Saturday, which he set apart specially for women, who desired not to be altogether excluded from his ministrations. In those sermons, while enlarging often with great beauty, insight, and power on the beliefs and experiences of the spiritual life, h e was dr awn occa sionally into arguments in his own defenc e, justi- fying his attitude towards the Pope, and maintaining the reality of his prophetic mission, as witnessed by the occurrence of events which, as all knew, he had been enabled to predict. It is pathetic to think of that strong voice, which was wont to speak out with the ring of full and masterly independence on the vital questions of faith and practical duty, reduced now so frequently to the apglo get ic, or even disputatious, tone of self-vindication. But the development of the drama was hastening forward ; the storm which had long been gathering was preparing to burst. The insincere, temporising letter of the Signory was received by the Pope with rage unmeasured. He wanted his orders obeyed ; here was nothing but diplomatic evasion. He sent a Brief, dated 9th March, in which he told the Signory that their recommendations of the Fra Girolamo were beside the mark. He had never disapproved of his virtues or his preaching ; what he cond emned jn ^ his mischievous obstinacy in despising ecclesiastical cen- sures, and he could tolerate his disobedience no longer. For the lasnime he wii;rn(id iind (iummaiided them to send the Friar to Rome forthwith, or to confine him ' in strict seclusion within his monastery, until such time as he should yield submission and crave for 202 SAVONAROLA absolution. If that were not done, the jnterdict wou ld be issue d, and the city would suffer. Again a Pratica was summoned at Florence, and there was long and anxious deliberation over the de- mands of this menacing document. It was felt to be a critical moment, and the tension of feeling was high. Abundant testimonies were offered to the value of Savonarola's work in the city. Sod erini a nd Valori were the chief ^s£eakers_on the side of abstaining from further_ijite£ference withTiis preaching. The ot her side was most ably and dexterously argued by Guid' An tpnio Vesp ucci, the eminent lawyer who represented the views of the aristocratic party. The suspension of Savonarola's ministries he professed to deplore as a spiritual deprivation to the citizens ; but over against that result he pictured the disastrous consequences to Florence — the ruin of commerce, and the loss of the hope of recovering Pisa — which an offence to the Pope would undoubtedly entail. It was not positively certain, he said, whether Fra Girolamo held a direct commission from God, but it was certain that the Pope had his power from God, and therefore it was wiser to render obedience. Should any wrong be committed by complying with the mandate from Rome, it was the Pope who was responsible, and not they. ypR j^np.p.i^ line of reason ing obvi ously harmon ised wi th the prevaili n g mood of the_ assembly. As the debate proceeded, it became increasingly apparent that the question of the treatment to be dealt out to Savonarola was being discussed, not in the light of what was due to the Friar himself and to the cause of justice and holy living which he, confessedly, repre- sented, but in the light of what was most expedient GATHERING TROUBLES 203 for the city's material prosperity. The high note of loyalty to right — which might have stirred men's hearts and consciences to heroic daring, and made the occasion gloriously memorable in history — was never sounded. Those who might have been expected to sound it — the men who had been most powerfully moved by Savonarola's teaching — were too perplexed by the difficulty of the situation, and probably also were unable to throw off their lingering superstitious terror of the baleful effects which a Papal anathema might bring upon themselves and their city. The decision was referred to a select committee, who, on the 17 th of March, came to the co nclusio n that Savonarola shouId _be " persuaded " to _cease from p reach ing, the persuasion, however, being intended to have all the force of a prohibitive command. This was communicated by the Council of Ten to Rome through Bonsi, the envoy there, with an anxious expression of the hope that his Holiness wo uld be satisfied w ith what had been d one, and would in his goodness restore to the citizens their now silenced spiritual instructor, of whose ministrations they were grieved to be deprived. Ere this reply was despatched, Savonarola had him- self addressed a letter to the Pope, in which he dis- played the fearless resolution of his mind in confronting the decision on his case, however unfavourable. In seeking as a good Christian to defend the faith and purify morals, he averred, he had met with nothing but trials and tribulations. He told Alexander that he had placed his hope in him, only to find that his Holi- ness had put it in the power of his enemies, like savage wolves, to wreak their cruelty upon him. No hearing had been given to the reasons he had advanced in proof no 204 SAVONAROLA of his doctrines, his personal innocence, his submission to the Church. Henceforth he would turn for hope to Him who chooses the weak things of the world to confound the strong, and who, as he believed, would help him to maintain the truth of the cause for which he suffered, and inflict just punishment on those who persecuted him and strove to hinder his work. " As for myself," he said in conclusion, " I seek no glory of this world, but I wait for and desire death. LeL.youy-Soliness delay no longer, but take heed to your own sfl.lvfl.t ion " On the evening of the very day on which the resolution was passed, Savonarola received the order of the Signory forbidding him to preach. He had just held his Saturday service for women, and had spoken in terms of gracious tenderness which brought tears to every eye. On the day following, the 18th of March, the third Sunday in Lent, he mounted the pulpit of San Marco once more, and delivered his last sermon. He had not sought, he protested, to weaken the Roman Church, but rather to augment its strength. Yet he would not be subject to the powers of hell, and all power that is opposed to good is not of God, but of the devil. Oftentimes he had resolved to abstain from acting on the things revealed to him, but the word of the Lord had been within him as a consuming fire in his bones and in his heart, and he had not been able to restrain it, because he felt himself all aflame with the spirit of God. The order of the Signory had come, " but," he said, " we will obtain by our supplications that which we may not obtain by sermons ; and we exhort all good men to do likewise. Lord, I pray Thee, have mercy on the good, and delay Thy promises no longer." Those were Savonarola's farewell words GATHERING TROUBLES 205 from the pulpit to the citizens of Florence. When first announcing, in 1489, his intention of preaching in the church of San Marco, he had stated, according to Burlamacchi, that he would continue to preach in Florence for the space of eight years. That period had now been fulfilled ; it was just some months over eight years since the prediction was made, and at San Marco he closed the ministry which then he was about to begin. There was yet one resource left for the persecuted apostle of righteousness. Realising that the hostility of the Pope was unrelenting, and that the magistrates now chosen by the Florentines were set against him- self and bent on pl aying into the Pope's hands , Savon- arola determined to'employ the weapon which hitherto he had held in reserve. Now was the time, he decided, to appeal to the princes of Europe, urging them to summon the Ueneral Council, on which he relied so much for the rectification of the abuses of the Church. This was the "turn of the key," the mighty cry " Lazarus, come forth," by which, some time before, he had vowed to astonish and startle Christendom. Now that all efibrts towards conciliation had failed, and matters were being driven to extremities, he resolved to deal his last daring stroke. Eid the favourable moment for it seemed to have arrived. Al exander vi. was b ecoming in creasingly unpopu lar. His avarice, his unblushing nepotism, the scandals of his life and court, had aroused bitter feelings both in Italy and abroad. Many of the cardinals even were ready to welcome a scheme which fnight be expected to rid the Church of the pernicious influence of such a man; and one of them, Cardinal Rovere / 2o6 SAVONAROLA of San Pietro in Vincoli, who had been Alexander's most formidable competitor for the Papal chair, had long been plotting to get such a scheme carried into effect. Charles viii. of France also was supposed to be waiting for some definite encouragement to move in that very direction. Savonarola had already pre- pared the letters which he designed to send to that monarch, and to the sovemigiis_of_Bpain,__G^raia^^ En^glani__mid__Hungary. Those " Letters to the Princes" were all substantially the same in purport. '"The Church is steeped in shame and crime from head to foot. You, instead of exerting yourselves to deliver her, bow down before the source of all this evil. Therefore the Lord is angry and hath left the Church for so long without a shepherd. I assure you in the word of the Lord that this Alexander is no Pope at all, and should not be accounted as such ; for, besides having attained to the chair of St. Peter by the shameless sin of simony, and still daily selling benefices to the highest bidder, — besides his other vices which are known to all the world, I afiirm also that he is not a Christian, and does not believe in the existence of God, which is the deepest depth of unbelief." That was the introduction; and then the princes were enjoined to unite in convoking a Council as soon as possible in some suitable and neutral place, while he, Savonarola, on his side, gave the assurance that God would confirm the truth of his words by miraculous signs. As a preliminary step, Savonarola, through the aid of influential friends, opened communication with the Florentine envoys at the chief foreign courts, in- forming them of the reasons for the proposal, and GATHERING TROUBLES 207 soliciting their good offices in its behalf. One of those friends was Domenico Mazzinghi, who wrote to Guasconi, the envoy in France ; but of the two copies of the letter, which, for greater safety, Maz- zinghi sent off, one was inteja cepted by the spies o f Ludoxico^oflVIilan, and by him forwarded to the Pope. Alexander's rage was remorseless now, a rage embittered by terror, for the dread of his life for years past had been the possibility of a General Council being convened. Savonarola's own letters to the princes of Europe were never despatched. Before there was time to ascertain, from the correspondence with the envoys, whether the way was ready for launching the proposal and throwing the ecclesias- tical world into commotion, the tempest broke over him in Florence itself, and fell upon him with a blow which crippled all further power and effort. CHAPTEE XXII The Ordeal by Fire It is only too patent that {^f^ynnn.rr>1n.'s as«npifli.inn wit h the party polit ics of Florence was the main cause contributi ng to his d ow nfall and t o the tragedy of his career. It provoked opposition to him on political grounds, which was malignantly brought to bear against his religious work and aims. It was political antagonism which drove him into collision with ecclesiastical authority and embroiled him in hostile relations with the Pope. Men assailed the prophetic claims of the preacher, because the stand he took was an obstacle to their partisan designs in matters affecting the State. This was at the bottom of the persistent persecution which beset him even after he had been reduced to silence and shut up in his convent by the order of the Signory and the Papal ban. His rivals, the Franciscans, now received every encouragement to turn their attacks upon him. They had always been forward to point out the errors of his teaching, but so long as Savon- arola held sway in the pulpit and enthralled men by the blaze of his eloquence, their jealous cavilling and detraction met with little regard. When, how- ever, the decree of excommunication came and was THE ORDEAL BY FIRE 209 set at nought, they found their opportunity. ^ People were eargoii^JiD _h£aJl,Jke„yalidity o^ excommuni- cation^ discusse d. The Franciscans of Santa Croce, envious of the superior fame gained by the Domini- cans of San Marco, were conspicuous by their vehemence in this controversy, and from the moment that Savonarola was silenced they redoubled their zeal in stigmatising his conduct as revolutionary and heretical. One of their number, Fra Francesco d i Pjiglia^ who was preaching in the church of Santa Croce during that Lent of 1498, was carried away so far by the heat of his polemical passion, that he dec lared his readiness to enter a burning fire "along witli.Jhe_adversary," as he said, in order to test the validity or nullity of the excommunication and the truth or error of Savonarola's prophetic pretensions. This-Jihallenge was at once ta ken up by Savonarola's enthusiastic disciple, Fr a Domenico da Pes cia, who was still preaching on his master's behalf, and eager as ever to display his loyalty and devotion. Domenico lost no time in publishing the " Conclusions," or pro- positions, which he was prepared to prove by accepting the fiery ordeal ; namely, that the Church was in need of reform, and would be chastised first and then restored; that Florence also would be chastised, and afterwards restored to flourish anew ; that the in- fidels would be converted to Christianity ; that these things would come to pass in that very age; and that the excommunication pronounced against Fra Girolamo Savonarola was invalid, and might be dis- regarded without sin. Savonarola realised the dangerous nature of the ground on which his trusty follower was venturing^ 14 210 SAVONAROLA and endeavoured to restrain his imprudent ardour, although it was soon evident that he was quite power- less to control the issues that had been raised. The whole matter was complicated by ^ h^ ^fmngo nnfinn of the S^'gnory in giving '^ffi'^^p^ ^^^i n ten ni nr i f^ to the carry ^Dg out of such a test. They summoned both parties to an audience, and called upon them to present the terms on which they desired the experiment to be made. Fra Domenico's "Conclusions" were duly registered. Fra Francesco, however, seeing that Domenico was really in earnest, endeavoured to draw back from any pledge to undergo the ordeal with him ; it was with Fra Girolamo himself, he avowed, that he was ready to pass through the fire ; and as Fra Girolamo held aloof he retired from the contest, putting forward~"anotTier monk, Fra Giuliano Ron- dinelli, as one who was willing in his stead to main- tain the challenge with Fra Domenico. Domenico, on the other hand, pleaded that Savonarola was reserved for higher things, and had still more im- portant work to accomplish, and his time had not yet come. The subject awakened a feverish interest not only among the magistrates and the religious orders con- cerned, but throughout the city. It was the sensation of the hour; the Flo rentines could talk of no thing p.lap. ; fl,nrl all looked forward impatiently to a spectacle more dramatically exciting than any which even that generation, that had seen so many stirring events, had yet witnessed. The Arrabbiati plied their wily arts in hastening on the ordeal, in the expectation that somehow their great adversary would be crushed or disgraced. That wild band of mischief-makers, the THE ORDEAL BY FIRE 211 Compagnacci, brought their influence to bear on the temporising, unscrupulous Signory, trusting that at length had come their best chance of ruining the man they feared, and hated because they feared. The Piagnoni, on their part, were zealous for the honour and credit of their revered leader, and h oped that he woul d consent to have his mission and message vin - dic ated by the test proposed, and by the supernatural triumph which they fully believed would be given. Many of them were ready to accept the challenge for him. There was quite a throng of volunteers — re- spectable citizens, women, and children even — fervently desirous of passing through the fire to prove the truth of his teaching and claims ; while the members of his own brotherhood of San Marco — and they numbered almost three hundred at this date — vied with each other in their enthusiastic anxiety to show their loyalty by offering themselves for the ordeal. Fra Mariano Ughi came early to the front, and friars of such distinguished family as Fra Malatesta Sacromoro and Fra Roberto Salviati signed a declaration to stake their lives. To the Signory, this multitude of competitors on the one side for the privilege of undergoing the test was rather perplexing. A meeting of officials was held on 30th March, and in the discussions many declared the question to be one which the ecclesiastical authorities should be left to settle ; but the pre dominant fe eling was th at the ordeal should be proceeded jvvith as a means of quieting the public mind^ and healing ' the d ivisions m the cii y! Even the sympathisers with Savonarola who were present joined in advising that the matter should go forward, their hope being that 212 SAVONAROLA the issue would redound to his greater glory. It was finally agreed that the ordeal should take place; further, that if the Dominican champion should perish, Savonarola must leave the city; or if the Franciscan champion, then Fra Francesco must go. Should both champions, however, succumb to the flames, the sen- tence of banishment was to fall on the Dominicans alone ; and if one or other of them refused to enter the fire, he and his party should gufier the penalty. Savona£ola_took__n^ to prevent the ordeal. When he addressed a large company of his telTowers on the 1st of April at San Marco, he found every one eager to face the trial. Ecco mi ! Ecco mi ! " Behold me ! Behold me, ready to go into the fire for the glory of the Lord ! " was the cry which rose round him on every side. The enthusiasm thus ex- hibited struck him as a sign from God that a miracle was going to be wrought. In this assurance he was encouraged by a vision of Fra Silvestro Marufii, one of the San Marco brethren, a man of highly nervous and emotional temperament, whose strange hallucina- tions and hysterical fancies of communications from the unseen had often exercised an undue influence on Savonarola's mind, and confirmed that tendency, so perilously ensnaring to him, to indulge in pious delu- sions. This weak and excitable brother now announced that he had seen the guardian angels of Fra Girolamo and Fra Domenico, who had declared to him that Fra Domenico would pass through the fire unhurt. It was hoped by many, alike on his own side and on the side of his opponents, that circumstances would force Savonarola to come forward and submit to the test himself ; and there was much surprise, and even THE ORDEAL BY FIRE 213 disappointment, created by his studious evasion of the challenge which Fra Francesco had laid down. It was only to be expected, men thought, that he who had claimed so peculiarly favoured a relation with Heaven should be prepared in person to subject his claims to some form of arbitrament in which the will of Heaven could be emphatically revealed. In all this he was only reaping the fruits of his own extravagant con- ceptions of his mission, and of the misguided insistence on his exceptional standing and character as the in- spired messenger of God. His adherents were led to entertain the confidence that no fire could touch the Prophet of the Most High, and they were eager to see his credit established by the triumphant Divine mani- festation which they were sure would be vouchsafed. His enemies deemed that they had good grounds for demanding his acceptance of an ordeal which would put his pretensions to the proof, and rejoiced in the prospect of having him exposed to a danger from which they did not believe he could possibly escape. To such views and expectations, which he knew to be widely prevalent, he re plied in a printed statem ent on the subject, arguing that he was V^^pip^ j^^ij^c^^jf \j^ y^f'^vy^ for a^ gre^jitaiL jvyork than , such contests about the validity or nullity of the excommunication — the re- formation of morals and of the Church; and that if his adversaries meant to prove the validity of his excommunication, they should first answer the argu- ments he had advanced, and then it would be time to settle the question by fire. As to the proposed experiment, he said that, should it indeed take place, which he was disposed to doubt, he had little hesita- tion in believing that they who went into it truly 214 SAVONAROLA inspired by the Lord would emerge without harm from the flames. His attitude in the matter, it must be allowed, was suffiSeirtly reasonable and honest, but it was one which, in the confused and exci ted^ state of the public mind at the moment, was seriously com- pr omising Io~his reputation for consi stency. The Pope was duly informed of~the whole affair. Bonsi had told him of what was transpiring; and, besides, the brothers of San Marco wrote a letter to his Holiness, explaining the circumstances, and plead- ing the justice of the cause which the trial by fire was intended to decide. Alexander, it appears, did not relish the idea of having' hits sen tence of excummuni- cation subjected to any such test; in> liis view its valid Tty"reste(l on his own authority as the occupant of the pontifical chair. The Signory at Florence, learning of his disinclination to sanction the ordeal, and wakening up at last to the gravity and awkward- ness of the situation, sought refuge in delay, hoping that some message might come from Rome which would put an ecclesiastical prohibition on the course proposed. The 6th of April had been originally fixed for the great event; it was now postponed to the following day. It was, moreover, formally decided that Fra Domenico da Pescia and Fra Giuliano Rondi- nelli should be accepted as the champions, and that in the event of Fr? \ J)Q rner>i( ;>.o boing bnrned Savon arola should leave F lorence within three ho urs. Fra Dome- nico's ardour increased as the day approached ; he fully believed in a supernatural deliverance. Rondinelli had no such assurance; he expressed his conviction that both would perish in the flames; but he was quite willing himself to suffer " for the good of souls." THE ORDEAL BY FIRE 215 For several days the friars on both sides devoted themselves to prayer and fasting. When at last the 7th of April dawned, the commotion of feeling in the city was wrought up to an extraordinary degree. The prohibitory message which the Signory anxiously looked for from the Pope had not arrived ; and accord- ingly the requisite preparations were made for the fate- ful experiment which monopolised every one's thoughts. In the Piazza della Signoria, the scene of many a stir- ring and sensational episode in history, a platform was erected, sixty yards long and ten yards broad, stretch- ing out from the front of the Palazzo Vecchio, and on it were piled two rows of faggots saturated with oil and pitch, with a narrow space between, along which the champions were intended to pass. At the request of Savonarola, it was arranged that the fuel should first be lighted at the farther end of the plat- form, and that when the two friars entered at the other the torch should then be applied to hem them in behind. To provide against a tumult, the openings into the piazza were guarded by soldiers ; troops were stationed in front of the palace balcony; but each party had taken the precaution to arm a section of their own adherents and place them where they might be of use in case of need. Thus three hundred Piagnoni, with Marcuccio Salviati at their head, were drawn up to protect Savonarola and his monks from San Marco ; while on the other side of the piazza, as a defence to the Franciscans, stood a band of five hundred Com- pagnacci, under their dashing, violent leader Dolf o Sp ini, whose presence brought a d?r)j]^frnni'^ pl^mftnt into the scene. During the time these preparations were going on, 2i6 SAVONAROLA Savonarola was celebrating Mass at San Marco. At the close of the ceremony he went into the pulpit and addressed the gathering of monks and devoted friends in a tone which, though exceedingly solemn, yet be- trayed a hesitation and diffidence in him quite unusual. " I cannot be certain," he said, " that the ordeal will take place, for that does not depend upon us ; but I am able to tell you that if it does take place, the victory will certainly be ours." He appealed to God to bear witness that he and his side had been challenged, and that they could not refuse to defend His honour ; and when he turned to the congregation and asked, " Are you willing to serve God, my people ? " every voice answered, " Yes," with prompt and enthusiastic fer- vour. Then he told the women present to remain in the church and continue in prayer till the trial was over. Meanwhile an enormous multitude had assembled in the Piazza della Signoria. The great open space was filled with a mass of people, that grew ever more dense and closely packed as the hour of the great event drew near. The windows, balconies, and roofs of the houses all round were thronged ; every pillar, cornice, or piece of statuary was taken advantage of by eager sight- seers. It seemed as if the whole population of Florence had crowded there together, strung to the highest pitch of expectation. For rarely in human experience is it given to witness an actual manifestation of the super- ^ natu ral, and such aT'maniftiJ^t^tion was nOVV louked'Tor by the great majority in that immense assemblage, a spectacle of miraculous interposition which would feed the love of the marvellous so deeply seated in the human heart, and which would supply a sensation THE ORDEAL BY FIRE 217 that would dazzle the eyes, set the nerves thrilling, and hold its place in the memory till the end of life. The Loggia dei Lanzi, that interesting structure, with its graceful columns and arches, and its striking statues, which stands on the left side of the Piazza, not far from the entrance to the Palazzo Vecchio, was set apart for the accommodation of the two rival bodies of friars — the half nearest the Palazzo being allotted to the Franciscans, the other half farther off to the Dominicans from San Marco. The Franciscans were already in their places, having come early, without any demonstration, and now stood waiting in their frocks of grey. It had just struck twelve, when the sound of singing was heard, and Savonarola and his followers appeared. They marched into the square, as they had done through the streets, in solemn procession, the monks first, between two and three hundred in number ; then Fra Domenico, arrayed in a red cope, a cross in his hand, and bearing himself with serene and exalted mien ; then Savonarola himself, on whom at once all eyes were fixed, clad in the white robe of the priest, and carrying before him the Blessed Sacrament ; while a band of faithful disciples, holding aloft lighted torches, filed in behind, all chaunting the psalm, " Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered," and re- peating the first verse as a refrain, which was taken up by a multitude of voices in the crowd with a fer- vour and force so startling that the very ground under foot, as Burlamacchi relates, appeared to tremble. The friars mounted the steps and moved into their com- partment in the Loggia, Savonarola placed the Sacra- ment on the altar set there beforehand for the purpose, and he and Fra Domenico knelt for a few minutes in 2i8 SAVONAROLA front of it till the chaunting ceased. Then all was ready; the vast multitude was hushed, and watched with palpitating emotions for the issue of that strange contest which had brought them together. Savonarola had risen from his knees and faced the crowd, calm and confident. He had been troubled with dl^u bts as to the moral legitimacy of the trial, which nevertheless, through pressure of circumstances, he had been forced to sanction. But now he looked as if all misgivings had vanished. He felt convinced that his cause was the cause of a righteous God, and that, as this mode of vindicating himself and his position had not been of his own choosing, surely God would be with him and show His favour by preserving the champion who was risking life on his side. As for Fra Domenico, he stood there with radiant counten- ance and dauntless heart, anxious to confront the test which would redound, as he believed, to the glory of God and his beloved leader. There was some del ay, however, which was unintel- ligible to the mass of spectators. The members of the Signory had not taken their position on the Palace balcony. The Franciscan champion, Fra Rondinelli, was not to be seen, neither was his instigator, Fra Francesco di Puglia, in whose behalf he had pledged himself to undergo the ordeal. The fact was that both were engaged inside the palace in anxious consultation with the Signory over certain difficulties, which their vacillation at the last moment had moved them to raise. Tl^^^y-^hjpr^ff^rl first of all, .ta Domenico's enter- ing the flames with th e red cope which he wor e ; then, when this had been removed, they found fault with his ordinary vestments as being possibly enchanted THE ORDEAL BY FIRE 219 against the fire. ' Savonarola protested against an ob- jection so frivolous, but at last yielded, and Domenico was taken into the palace to change clothes with Alessandro Strozzi, one of the San Marco brethren, who, when he heard his name called, in his sanguine fervour imagined that he was to have the honour of meeting the challenge, and threw himself at Savon- arola's feet to receive his blessing, with the Te Deum Laudamus bursting from his lips. The delay thus caused was exceedingly tantalising to the waiting mul- titude, who soon became restless and indignant. There were cries for Savonarola himself to step forward and begin the trial. Then cam e an outbreak of wild dis- order^during which the armed ( Jompagna cci inftde a dash across the square, intent on doing violence to the object of their hate, but were h ^^.tftn bgck b y Salviati, who, at the head of his band of Piagnoni, drew a line on the ground in front of the Loggia, and dared them to cross it. Suddenly a th understorm broke o verhead, and rain fell in drenching torrents, i^ut the crowd waited on, subdued into comparative quietness once more, and impatient tor the spectacle wJhicJi tJiey hoped might yet be forthcoming. The storm ceased as suddenly as it had begun, but fresh difficulties arose. Rondinelli remained still in the Palazzo ; he and his supporters insisted that Domenico should put aside the crucifix which he carried in his hands. This Domenico agreed to do, but expressed his determination to enter the fire bearing the Sacrament instead. The Franciscans exclaimed against this proposal wath indignant horror. It would be impious presumption, they argued, thus to expose the Sacred Host. On the other hand, Domenico and 2 20 SAVONAROLA Savonarola pleaded, if the Host were burned, it would be the accidents only which would be consumed, the substance would remain. The discussion on the point appeared endless. There was a constant moving to and fro, a coming and going between the palace and the Loggia, but with no definite result ; neither party- would give way. Again the p. yowd became rest less. HojirsJmd^assed ; the day, which was expected to be so sensationally eventful, had worn by, wasted in seem- ingly fruitless disputes ; the shadows of night were gathering, and nothing had happened, nothing been done; and murmurs of d.i scon tent were everywhere heard. At length, as darkness set in, the Signory, who had been painfully perplexed all day, realising the deadlock to which the matter had come, decid ed to suspend the ordeal, a nd gave orders to both parties to retire to their convents. Fiji ri oils was the rage of the swarmin^mass of people when that order became known. Weary, hungry, drenched, and cramped by the tight pressure they had so long been obliged to bear, they were in no mood to accept the disappointment which now fell upon them. They had waited and waited through the slow- moving hours for the sight of that supernatural marvel which they had been persuaded to look for, and no marvel had been wrought. Exclamations of bitterness and of bafiled expectation arose on every hand, and it was a gainst Savonarola chiefly tha t the irri tation^ jsgafi ^turned. Why, men asked in querulous scorn, had he personall}' hung back, and ^^^priYfJ tbe^^ '^^ the miracle which he had so often proclaimed as certain to be given in attestation of his mission from God ? Even lar ge numbers who had warm jy^rpirpd hhtu^ and THE ORDEAL BY FIRE 221 counted themselves amongst his followers, showed their angi:^^vexation. TtTey, hke others, were p. ra.vip g fo r a. s upernatural toke n which should prove the truth of the great Friar's teaching, and which, moreover, would gratify their pride in him as their leader; and they deemed themselves sorely aggrieved by what seemed to them his reprehensible waakness ki not -stepping forward in pe rson and volunteer ing tosettle the whole gnftsfinrt ISjTHpring fVift fipry fPHfi nijone^^an d givi ng~the sigi L-^desired. ^ The revulsion of feeling was so great, and the tumult of resentment so strong, that Savon- arola found it essential to request a guard from the Signory to protect him and his monks on their way home through the streets. The request was complied with, but the march to San Marco was a sad contrast to the solemn dignity and exalted enthusiasm of the morning procession. Slowly and with difficulty Savon- arola and his company of friars moved on^ assailed by the reproaches, gibes, and imprecations of the mob, and only saved from positive violence by the armed escort accompanying them, and by the reverence felt for the Sacrament which he was carrying back in his hands. -> It was a melancholy downfall, a veritabletragedy' of reverse. Here was the man who, in a momentous crisis, had been the dictator of Florentine affairs, the idol of the people for several years, t heir lawg iver, thf^ir Rpiritinnl rlirectorj the eloquent pro phet-preac her on whose lips they had hung, and who had swayed them in glowing fervour or in tremulous penitential awe — now disowned, and turned upon with ruthless bitterness, and that by the very people amongst whom his best work had been performed and his greatest 2 22 SAVONAROLA triumphs won. It was not because of any un worthiness in himself, nor because of anything sinister in his aims, nor any deterioration in his character. His strong and lofty soul had lost none of its strenuous nobility of purpose. But he had been c arried away with increasing readiness by pious self-delusions, by errors of the fancy born of morbid religious excitement, and by the hft,ani1irig_^p«oinnsnpt^<^ of exce ptional insight j nto the w^S^-of God. And hence, mistakenly, but honestly enough, he had advanced claims to Divine inspiration which jx£4inen/sjmn(ls~and led them to Jook for some 'WL^^'g^^^ ^^^TTa<^^ft^''^aitiion <^f his lieavenly power. And ^ when the expectations thus kindled were all of a sudden baulked and quenched, it was but natural that there should be a wild rebound, a spasm of indiffnajit resentment, in which all the admiration and faith he had evoked towards himself were shaken. The temper of the crowd, and the execrations hurled at Savonarola that evening, as the convent gates closed behind him, made it abundantly evident that t he spe ll was bro ken. The prophetic halo which had surrounded him in the eyes of the people was gone. The wand of the magician had crumbled in his hands. The supplications of the women in the convent church had been maintained through the whole of that anxious day. Savonarola went in, made his way to the pulpit, and spoke to them a few words in explanation of what had occurred, counselled them and the brethren who had come in with him to live a godly life, and then, after the Te Deum had been sung, dismissed them with his blessing. Painful must have been his reflections as he shut himself up in his cell, at the end of the long corridor, THE ORDEAL BY FIRE 223 tliat night. He could not but know that the malignant purpose of his enemies had been gained, that lija. power had bgen shattered, that his je£edit-^w4^-~Ui^ <3itizens wa& j'uine d. What self -questionings racked his mind, or what chills of discouragement came over him, no one can tell. But this certainly we know, from what his subsequent demeanour revealed, that his loyalty to God and his own soul held fast, his spirit kept true to its highest aims, and his courage survived unquelled to confront the dark catastrophe which was casting its shadow over his path. / / fonoun cn ig all to 1 5e rebels who _did not leave the convent with in an hour; and accordingly several friends, realising the' hopelessness of the struggle, deemed it advisable to retire to their homes. At length the doors of the church were burned through, and as the smoke became suffocating and the mob with volleys of shot were pushing in, Savonarola, who maintained an unresisting attitude throughout, marched his friars and all who were not engaged in the fight, back along the cloisters into the convent library, THE BURSTING OF THE STORM 229 where, in kneeling posture before the Sacrament, the chaunting of the Litanies was resumed, while in other parts of the convent the din of strife went on. The prayerful vigil was interrupted by another affecting instance of devotion. One of Savonarola's disciples, an obscure tradesman of the city, was brought in wounded, pleading to see the master, at whose feet he bent with the fervent request that he might be received into the brotherhood. It was Savonarola's last act of authority to grant his wish, and to invest him with the friar's cloak. About midnight a peremptory order came from the Signory, commanding Savonarola, Fra Domenico, and Fra Silvestro to deliver themselves up at the Palace without delay. They were assured of a safe return as soon as the tumult was quelled ; but should they resist, the warning was given that the convent would be stormed by artillery. Savonarola was prepared to surrender, but as the order had not been conveyed in writing, and the leading brethren were suspicious of treachery, the officers were se nt back fo r the formal docume nt on which alone relian'ce could_ be placed. In the interval of waiting, Savonarola drew the sorrow- ing company closer round him, and, addressing them as his " children," with deep feeling and strong faith spoke to them a few parting words. Before God and in presence of the Blessed Sacrament he reasserted the truth of his doctrines. What he had taught, he avowed, he had received from God, who was his witness in heaven that he did not lie. He did not know, he said, that the whole city would so soon turn against him, yet he was content that the will of the Lord should be done. " My last counsel to you is this : let < ^^ 230 SAVONAROLA faith, patience, and prayer be your weapons. I leave you with anguish and grief to give myself into my enemies' hands. I do not know whether they will take my life, but I am certain that if I must die, I shall be able to aid you in heaven more than I have been able to do on earth. Take comfort, embrace the cross, and by it you will find the harbour of salvation." Then, to fortify his spirit for whatever fate was in store, he confessed to Fra Domenico and received the Sacrament. But there was a Judas in the camp. Fra Mal atesta Sacromoro, the very man who had zealously sjg^ nified his willingness to ac cept tne ordeal of fire_£^ n his m ^ter s behalf a few days before, had been so shaken in his steadfastness by the disappointing turn ev ents ad taken, that at this most trying moment he con- descended to play th e traitor s par t. By his advice, now secretly tendered, the Compagnacci storming the convent were u i;;ged to hurry on the Signory in se nding- the written decree of arrest . And soon the decree arrived, with the commander of the Palace guard and his men to enforce its demands. (^Savonarola was ent reated by his friends to escape oveF^e walls an d flee, b u t the rem ark interposed by Malatesta, " S hould not the shepherd lay down his life 'l or the sJ ae e p V so deeply touched him that he at once banished the thought from his mind. Turning to the brethren, he embraced them with tender affectionate- ness — Malatesta among the first — and took his sad farewell. " My dear brothers," he said, " remember you have no need to doubt. The work of the Lord will go forward without ceasing, and my death will only hasten it on." Amid the tears and sobs of the men who had known by intimate fellowship his THE BURSTING OF THE STORM 231 worth and truth and faithful kindness, he left his beloved San Marco for ever, and, along with the always devoted Fra Domenico, gave himself up to the officials appointed to make the arrest.J When he appeared outside, with his hands tied behind him, the mad glee of the crowd knew no bounds. The glare of the torches carried by the guards lit up a sea of wild, jeering faces, every face turned in triumphant derision on the vi ctim of political animosity, ecclesiastical corruption, and, alas, of popular fickleness and ingratitude. Stones were hurled at him, insults heaped upon him, cries of execration and foul reproach howled in his ears, as he was led through those streets which he had so often trodden before on errands of usefulness, or in devout procession with his array of monks, chaunting psalms of praise. Those who could get near enough in the press assailed him with the most vulgar indignities. Some, flashing their lanterns in his face, called out, " There goes the true light." Others struck him, and with blasphemous scoff" cried, " Prophesy, who is it that smote thee ? " One kicked him from behind, with the coarse jest, "There is the seat of his prophetic power." His escort were obliged to cross their halberds over his head to shield him from savage blows. Thus, in the dead of night, while ma ny who j till loved and honoured him were u ncertain as to their line of conduct, and rp mniripd quietly m their homes , and while others — indeed, the lar ger proportion o£ the Flo rentine citizens — who had once been his admirers, were coolpd jri^ thm'r syTnp^,^,hi es and allowed na tters to ta ke their course, th e devoted, unselfish benefactor of Florence, whose zeal for its welfare had led him 232 SAVONAROLA only too frankly to reprove its sins, was loaded with outrage by his worst enemies and by the reckless rabble who played into their hands ; and amid frantic uproar and violence was marched, a prisoner, to the Palace of the Signory. There, after a few questions by the Gonfaloniere as to whether he persisted in the assertion of a Divine revelation in his teaching, to which he returned a clear affirmative reply, he was shut up alone in a cell in the bell-tower — the faithful Fra Domenieo being confined in another part of the building. (F ra Silve stro, who had been included in the order to surrender, had been in hidinio - and could not be found when the arrest at San Marco was made. Next morning, however, he emerged from his place of concealment, and by means of Fra Malatesta, as some witnesses averred, he was forced to give himself up at the Palace, though his weak, nervous soul rendered him but poorly fitted to endure the tribulation which his stronger companions were facing so noblyy In the course of the day, nineteen others, both friars and citizens, who had made themselves conspicuous in de- fending the convent, were also laid under arrest. Intelligence flew to Rome, and the Pope was highly gratified. Through the letters intercepted by the agents of Duke Ludovico of Milan, he had become fully informed of Savonarola's efforts to incite the Powers of Europe to summon a General Council, the first business of which, as he knew, would be to examine his own title to hold the pontifical throne ; and he was delighted at the downfall of the prime mover in such a project. He sent a Brief to the Signory, expressing his great pleasure that the scandal caused by the excommunicated Friar was now brought to an end, THE BURSTING OF THE STORM 233 praising them for what they had done, granting ab- solution from all their recent offences towards the Holy Church and its head, and promising plenary indulgence and restoration to the Church to all followers of the Friar who should repent of their errors. The B rief, besides, stipula ted tha t_S avonarola and his two a sso- ciates , after being examined, should be sent to Rome for the final settlement of their case, under the charge of special delegates whom his Holiness would himself appoint. Alexander wrote also to the Franciscans of Santa Croce, commending them for their "holy zeal and evangelical charity," which he would hold in lasting remembrance ; and to Francesco di Puglia, ex- horting him to persevere in the good and pious work till the evil should be entirely destroyed. The Duke of Milan, too, was profuse in his congratulations; a powerful obstacle to his designs on the independence of Florence was removed. So Savonarola's foes rejoiced over him. With his voice smothered, his power shattered, his followers cowed, or paralysed by perplexity; a captive in the grasp of men who sought his ruin, — all things conspired to deepen his humiliation ; and even that exalted potentate, the King of France, to whom he had looked with such sanguine, fanciful hope as the divinely- intended saviour of Italy, was no longer able to aid him. C harles vi it, hH ^h'pr] ^^irlrJAnly of apople xy, in a wretched hovel at Amboise, on the very day when Savonarola and his champion were confronting the Florentine crowd in view of the expected ordeal by fire. Henceforth, all c onfidence in man was vain. Ere the Pope's congratulatory Brief arrived, the examination and trial of Savonarola had already begun, 234 SAVONAROLA and the record of its proceedings forms a miserable and melancholy story. At the very outset, the Signory, on the plea of State necessity, took the unconstitutional step of d ecreeing that a fresh election of the Councils of the^en and of the Eight sliould be imm'e diately -^ held, although the complete te rm of those a t the time in office ha d not expired. The sole reason for such a course was that the members of those Councils, of the Ten especially, were known to be favourable to the Friar, and it was desired to fill the posts with men more decidedly in sympathy with the party that had now risen into power. Their end was gained, and on the 11th of April a commission of seventeen was appointed to conduct the examination, with full power to use such means as they might find expedient to extort the evidence required. It was clear at once that no attempt was made to secure an impartial tribunal, for among the commissioners chosen were some of Savonarola's bitterest opponents, such as Piero degli Alberti, and the vindictive, hot-headed Dolfo Spini himself. Indeed, the whole arrangements for the trial were so manifestly unjust, that one of the members elected for the commission, Bartolo Zati, indignantly declined to act, declaring that he " would have no share in this murder." Holy Week though it was, when men professing the Christian faith should be moved to patience, mercy, and charity, the j udges of Sav onar ola displayed a ruth- le s^ eagerness in dealing out harshness and cruelty. The charges brought against him had reference to his religious teaching, his political conduct, and his pro- \phecies; and to elicit incriminating replies from him ►n these points, he was taken to the upper hall of the t THE BURSTING OF THE STORM 235 Bargello, and there questioned and put to the torture. It was a b arbarous procedur e, a survival of the sever e TneTfiTp.vaT methods of justice, which the boasted culture of Florence at that date should have rendered impos- "sible. Savonarola was s ubiected to the horrible a^ony of the pulley ; d rawn up by a rope attached to the roof of the building, then let suddenly drop with a violent jerk, which strained and tore every muscle of his finely-strung, sensitive frame, enfeebled as it was. by many anxious toils. and rigid austerities. This was repeated again and again, and for days in succession, with the result that after a few " turns " of the rope he was th rown into del irium. "O Lord, take away my life," he was forced to cry in one of his worst spasms of anguish. And yet, when the grim infliction of the day was over, and he was sent back pained and wrenched to his cell, he could prostrate himself before God, and, like the Great Example, pray for his per- secutors, "Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." After the trial had gone on for several days, the Papal Brief, already spoken of, arrived. Highly pleased as the authorities were by its general terms, they felt gravely concerned with regard to the demand t hat S avonarola and his two compa ni ons sh ould be sent to Ro me. To yield to suc h a demand, it was thought, would be an^ jiffront to the dignity ~oF Fl orence. In the Council held to debate the point, it was decided to make an evasive reply ; to offer the fairest excuses possible for keeping the imprisoned friars in their own hands, to proceed with the trial, and meanwhile to take advantage of the Pope's favourable mood to press the Signory's oft-renewed request for permission to levy a 2 36 SAVONAROLA tax on ecclesiastical property in the city. Accordingly, the trial went forward, though the statements wrung from Savonarola were admitted to be utterly insuffi- cient as proof of his guilt. A notary of the city, however, offered his services in reporting the evidence, pledging himself to put it in such a form as would show a clear ground for conviction. This was Ser Cec cone, w ho had once been sheltered by Savonarola, and saved"TronPtKe™peril of exile"(5F^atir which his poTTtical misdeeds had incurred, and who now, "after prof_essin g tor some yeafs~to be a follow er, turned agai nsthis benefact or. To the disgrace of the Floren- tine magistrates then in office, and of the commissioners who undertook the responsibility of the examination, Ser Ceccone, with the promise of four hundred ducats as his reward, was engaged to manipulate the deposi- tions given in t he tr ial, and make them suit the purpose intended. That is an established historical fact. Day after day Savonarola was made to writhe under the rope and pulley torture, aggravated at times by the application of burning coals to the soles of his feet as he hung suspended; and day after day the skilful notary twisted the often incoherent words which the maddening pain drew from him till their meaning was scandalously falsified. B^L-^altfirations, o mission s^j i nd interp olatijms, the most innocent u tter- ^^^^nces were converted into/ ^^^ffflsinniS o^ rlamnrnnnr significajice. Yet, notwithstanding the frequent in- coherence of his replies, Savonarola remained mar- vellously firm in his asseveration of the truth of his teaching and the sincerity of his motives in seeking nothing but the good of Florence in his political action. There he was resolute and inflexible. It was only on THE BURSTING OF THE STORM 237 the question of his prophecies and visions that he exhibited any want of consistency in his statements. This had been the point in his public ministry which he found it most embarrassing to defend against criti- cism and attack, and he had always been inclined to indulge in vague and mystical explanations regarding it. Now, under the pressure of quivering bodily anguish, he expressed himself in terms which were vaguer still, and sometimes even contradictory. In- deed, the whole matter of his prophetic enlightenment rested on a basis so elusive that it is not difficult to understand how, in the confusion of brain which the torture caused, he should at one moment declare that his predictions were revelations direct from God, and at another that they were founded on his own opinions or on deductions derived from Scripture teaching. These contradictions Ser Ceccone did his best to set in a glaring light in his distorted version of the proceedings. When the trial had continued for more than a week, the examiners determined to print the report drawn up by their notary. The document was read over to Savonarola, and by some means or other his signat ure to it wa s extorte d in the presence of six monks from_ his own co nxeniT Before attixmg his name, Tie^ was asked by Ceccone, " Is all that is written here true ? " and he made answer, " What / have written is true." And then, when the witnesses had duly signed, he begged them to take care of the novices and instruct them in good doctrine, and also to pray for himself, because, he said, the spirit of prophecy had gone from him at the moment. The report, after being partially read before the 238 SAVONAROLA Signory, was duly published ; but so slender we re the g rounds for convict ion which it presented, that the autho rities issued orders that all copies in circulation shoul djbe immediately returned to the printer, and another versio n was substitut ed for it, which proved in no wise more satisfactory. With chagrin and alarm, the magistrates realised their palpable f ailure to make out a case which wou l d justify the m in the extreme m easures on which they were be nt. They wrote to the Pope a humble excuse for their failure, pleading that they had to do with a man of the most extraordinary patience of body and wisdom of soul, who hardened himself against torture, involving the truth in all kinds of obscurity, with the intention of establishing for himself by pretended holiness an eternal name among men, or of braving imprisonment and death. T o_ Savonarola's adherents the publication, of the report brought a painful shock. They were pro- fouhdly agitated in mmd when they learned of what purported to be a confession by their revered leader of deception in his teaching. Many of the most loyal refused to believe in the genuineness of the document or in the possibility of such a confession having ever been made. O thers , who had been thrown into per- plexity by the fiasco of the ordeal by fire, too readily acce pted the confession as a fac t, and were^ yet more un settled in their faith. There were others still who flung off" all pretence of allegiance, boiling with indig- nation at the extent to which, as they thought, they had been befooled. It was resolved to hold a se ^^ond trial, wh idi was be gun on the 21st of A pril, and from that day to the THE BURSTING OF THE STORM 239 25th the same process of examination by torture and falsification of the depositions was repeated. A por- tion of the report was read before the Greater Council and an assembly of citizens, though not, as the law required, in the hearing of Savonarola ; and to account for this the reader announced that the Friar had de- clined to be present through fear of being stoned — a statement which no one really believed. This second trial was as obvious a fa ilure as the first had been. It was the universal impression that the evidence needed to prove a capital offence had not yet been obtained. Nor could any charge of flagrant guilt be substantiated against Savonarola by the testi- mony of hia two companions, whose examination had meantime been going on. Racked and tortured as Fra Domenic o was, he re mained stead fast in his avowaToT confidence in his master's goodness, single-mindedness, and inspiration as a prophet of God; and although told that his master had retracted and owned himself a deceiver, he never for a moment wavered. With unflinching persistency the simple, brave monk bore witness to the innocence and sterling integrity of the man whose intimate associate and fellow-worker he had been for years. Th e-^hysterical Fra Silves tro was less resolute. His spirit quailed under the torture, and he was read y to utter w^hat ever his tormentors sug- gested; yet even his evidence, with all its^ weak vacillations and all its cunning manipulation by Ser Ceccone, fell far short of fastening on Savonarola any imputation of guilty designs. The result of the trials altogether was a disappoint- ment to the Signory, who either desired, or felt bound by political exigencies to find, a justification for pro- 240 SAVONAROLA ceeding to extremes. So far they had been baffled in their purpose; even Ser Ceccone had failed to aid them as they hoped, and they dismissed their crafty tool with a fraction of the reward he had worked for — thirty ducats instead of the four hundred promised him. Just as his second trial was beginning, an element of acute bitterness was thrown into Savonarola's cup of anguish, by the defection of his monks at San Marco. Those men displayed a lamentable pusil- lanimity, and actually took the step of fOTmally dis- nYming fVi^ir Tma.afpr Co nfouuded by the rep orted retra ctation of hi s prophetic teaching, and dismayed by the painfully trying situation in which they now found themselves, — ex communicated, leaderj ess, ex- posed to the full weight of ecclesiastical penalties and popular scorn, — t hey broke dow n in their allegiance. They could no longer acknowledge a master who, as they were led to believe, had confessed himself a deceiver. Even the valorous, fine-spirited Fra Benedetto was for a time utterly unhinged in faith, and fled from the scene, although latterly, after a period of retirement in the country, he recovered his confidence in the great soul that had been his in- spirer and guide. On the 21st of April the San Marco bret hren wr ote_aJ[gtt£r_ of abject ap ology to tbe--^JgQp§^,defilQ^**iag. tliie.,>&t:r-ai^ Jnto- whick^iEey had bfifiiL-iirawiL. They had been beguiled, they said, like many others, by the Fra Girolamo's commanding ability, by his exalted doctrines and holiness of life, and by the success of so many of his prophetic predictions. But now, having been disillusioned by his own avowal of deception, they made their humble THE BURSTING OF THE STORM 241 submission, and besought forgiveness. " Let it suffice your Holiness," they pleaded, " to punish the head and source of this offence ; we, like sheep who have gone astray, return to the true shepherd." Thus in his dire extremity Savonarola's own house- hold turned against him. / 16 CHAPTEE XXIV The Tragic Close A BEIEF respite from molestation followed the conclu- sion of the second trial. The Signory, though deter- mined to compass the Friar's destruction, were obliged to pause for a time by the necessity of coming to terms with the Pope, who was again insisting on his demand that Savonarola and his companions should be sent to Rom e^Tor sentenc e and^ punishment. Intheir corre- spondence with Alexander VI. the Florentine magis- trates urged that the executi on should ta ke plac e at Florence ^ where the offence Ead^een crm irnjj^^.e^^ an d that the Pope should send commissioners to examine the prisoners on his own behalf; and they gave it plainly to be understood that they had both the means and the will to bring about what they knew to be his Holiness' desire — the death of the man he feared. On this assurance they founded a renewal of their request for the liberty of taxing ecclesiastical property. The Pope finally agreed. A bargain was struck over the life of Savonarola. The Signory were to be allo wed to carry out the sentence against him at Florence, on the^ajritivtmpTied conditi on that it was \.n be a sen- te nce of doom ; and, as an ind ucement j o fulfil the engagement, the right to levy a tenth on ecclesiastical THE TRAGIC CLOSE 243 propertY_was grant ed_ for ji^j)eriod of thrge^ y^ars. " Three times ten," was the grimly derisive remark of the Piagnoni, " make thirty ; Savonarolajike the Savi our, is sold for thirty pieces oL ^ilyer." Two com- missioners were to be appointed by the Pope to act in his name and to see the case brought to a satisfactory conclusion. Pending the settlement of these negotiations and the arrival of the Pop e's repres entatives. Savonarola was left nearly a month in quiet in his prison-cell. He employed the interval in writing two short expositions, one on the 51st, and the other on the 31st Psalm, in which, in language saturated with the spirit of the Bible, he gave vent to the deepest emotions of his heart in communion with God. The tr ^^atise on Psalm 51 is exceedingly rich in scriptural quotations, and full of passionate yet reverent pleading for higher purity, more complete consecration, and firmer faith. It throbs, too, with yearning concern for the welfare of the Church, that its walls may be built up, and that then the Lord may accept the sacrifices of righteous- ness. " Lord, how many sacrifices we offer at this day which are not acceptable to Thee, but rather abominable I For we offer the sacrifices not of righte- ousness, but of our own ceremonial ; therefore are they not accepted by Thee. Where is now the glory of apostles ? Where the courage of martyrs ? Where the fruit of preachers ? Where the holy simplicity of monks ? Where the virtues and works of the early Christians ? Then wilt Thou accept their sacrifices when Thou shalt adorn them with Thy grace and virtues. If, moreover. Thou wilt favourably regard Sion in Thy good pleasure, then shalt Thou accept the 244 SAVONAROLA sacrifice of righteousness, because the people will begin to live well, and to keep Thy commandments and to do righteousness, and Thy blessing shall be upon them. Then the offerings of the priests and the clergy will be acceptable to Thee, because forsaking earthly things they will gird themselves unto a purer life ; and the unction of Thy blessing shall be upon their heads. Then will the whole burnt-offerings of the religious be acceptable to Thee when, fo rsaking sloth and luke- warmness,jthey^sha]lii e pe rf ectp ^iiri- eve ry pa rt by the flam e ^ Div ine love. . . . T^^ishall Thy Church Eondah ; then shall she extend her borders ; then shall Thy praise resound from the ends of the earth ; then shall joy and gladness fill the world ; then shall the saints be joyful in glory, then shall they rejoice in their beds, while they wait for Thee in the land of the living. Let that then be made now unto me, Lord, I beseech Thee, that Thou mayest have mercy on me according to Thy great mercy, that Thou mayest accept me for a sacrifice of righteousness, for an offering of holiness, for the whole burnt-offering of a religious life, for the young bullock of Thy Cross, whereby God grant that I may deserve to pass from this vale of misery to that glory which Thou hast prepared for them that love Thee." In the exp osition of Ps alm 31 he speaks of his p wn depression and desp air, and tells how hope has come to ^ ^Iieve Km il " Heaviness hath besieged me, with a great and strong host hath hedged me in, she hath oppressed my heart with clamours and with weapons, day and night she ceaseth not to fight against me. My friends are in her camp, and are become mine enemies. Whatsoever I see, whatsoever I hear, they bring the THE TRAGIC CLOSE 245 banners of Heaviness. The memory of friends saddens me ; the remembrance of my children grieveth me ; the thought of cloister and of cell tortures me ; when I think upon my own studies, it affects me with sadness; the consideration of my sins weigheth me down. For even as to those sick of a fever all sweet things seem bitter, even so to me all things seem changed to mourning and heaviness. Verily a great weight upon the heart is this heaviness ; the poison of asps, a deadly pestilence, murmurs against God, ceases not to blaspheme, exhorts to desperation. Unhappy that I am, who shall deliver me from her unhallowed hands ? If all things which I see and hear follow her banners and fight stoutly against me, who shall be my protector ? Who shall succour me ? Whither shall I go ? How shall I escape ? I know what to do : I will turn me to things unseen, and will lead them forth against the things which are seen. And who shall be captain of an host so high and so terrible ? Hope, which is of things invisible ; Hope, I say, shall come against Heaviness and shall put her to rout. Who shall be able to stand against Hope ? Hear what the prophet saith, Thou, Lord, art my Hope ; Thou hast set my place of defence very high. Who shall stand against the Lord ? Who shall be able to storm His place of refuge which is very high ? I will call her, therefore, and she will make haste to come, and will not fail me. Lo, she hath come already ; she hath brought gladness ; she hath taught me to fight, and hath said unto me. Cry aloud, cease not ; and I say. What shall I cry ? Say, quoth she, boldly and with all thy heart, * In Thee, O Lord, have I hoped ; I shall not be con- founded for ever ; in Thy righteousness deliver Thou 246 SAVONAROLA me.' wondrous power of Hope, whose face Heavi- ness could not abide. Already comfort hath come. Now let Heaviness cry aloud and assail me with her host ; let the w^orld press me hard, let enemies rise against me ; I fear nothing, because in Thee, Lord, have I hoped." And then he goes on to expreri^ hJM M\ \inr "depTrn deuce OP hfvav enly grace in words w hich Martin Luther afterwards claimed as a foreshadowing of his own doctrine of Justification by Faith. " I will hope in the Lord, even as my Hope hath taught me to hope, and I shall soon be delivered from all my troubles. By what merits shall I be delivered ? Not mine own. Lord, but in Thy righteousness deliver me. In Thy righteousness, I say, not my own, for I seek for mercy ; I put not forward my owm righteousness. But if by grace Thou hast rendered me just, then have I Thy righteousness already. The Pharisees placed confidence in works of righteousness ; they trusted in- deed in their own righteousness ; and therefore did not submit themselves to the righteousness of God, for by the works of the law shall no flesh be justified be- fore God. But the righteousness of God hath appeared by the grace of Jesus Christ, even without the works of the law." Thus in his solitary confinement, high up in the Palazzo Vecchio tower, above the hum and clamour of the busy Piazza, the fervent-souled m an, forsaken of friends and plntt^d again, ^(. by foes , was wrapt in lofty contemplation ; and there, in the long and lonely hours, with right arm bruised by the tortures he had undergone, he st ruggled, till paper was d enied him, to pen a^j2gcord _of_thfi. thou ghts by which.Jm-4elt his heart st rengthened and inspire d. And the effort was THE TRAGIC CLOSE 247 not in vain. Fo^JJj^two expositions, when soon a fter- wards published, were received with extraordinary interegi. Their^lBeauty of sentiment, devoutness of spirit, and glowing warmth of spiritual emotion, ren- dered them welcome to thousands of e arnest me n and women everywhere, who were ye arning^ for some help- fu l_ stimulus and nourishment to their religiou s life. Indeed, the eager demand for those last words of Savonarola proved that the chord wh ich he had struck during his wonderful ministry , though not responding so loudly as once it did to his touch, was still really vibratin o[_m people's hear ts. Within two years after his death, twenty-one editions of the short treatises were issued, and before the middle of the sixteenth century transl ations were made into English, Frei^ ch, Ger^arw SpanihSh, an.d the vernacular Ita.lian. Even the few lines embodying a Rule for Virtuous Living, which he wrote on a book-coverTt the request of his jni jftr , w hr^^P- fiflTpptinn hft ha A wnn ^ had to be printed to meet a widespread desire. The lull in the storm was broken on th e 19th o f May, when the com missioners of the Pope made their en try into Florence with great circumstance and ceremony, and amid the acclamations of a thought- less mob, who encouraged them with shouts of " Death to the Friar 1 " One of those commissioners was Era Giovacchino Tnx™^^; Gp.r ipral of _the^Dominican Order, highly esteemed for his learning and wortli, and a former friend of Savonarola. The other was the Span ifih^ ^ oct^r, ..^^^escg^ ^JRomolino, a n offici al at Jbhe Roman jcourt, and eventually a cardinal, a man of scandalous life, and characterised by all the mercilessness of an inquisitor, whose very presence 248 SAVONAROLA in connection with such an affair was itself an omen of evil, and a sure guarantee against any failure of vigour through the gentleness which his colleague might show. In fact, Romolino made no attempt to conceal that he had come to cond emn Savonarola, no t to j ud ge h im ; and on the very night of his arrival in the city he is reported to have said in boastful levity, "We shall have a fine bonfire, for I have the sentence of condemnation safe in my pocket." Next day the trial began, the Papal commissioners being assisted by five representatives of the different bodies of Florentine officials. Ser Ceccone, despite the clumsiness of his former services, was once more called in to exercise his manipulating gifts, with two other scribes, however, to aid him in his nefarious task. This third tri al, even more than the others that preceded it, was little else than a pretence. The result was a foregone conclusion. Savonarola was from the first tre ated as a g uilty man, and the sole ai m of his judges was to compel bim t o confess .hims elf guilty . With regard to his endeavours to obtam the calling of a General Council, which was the head and front of his offending, he was long and severely questioned. Every means was used to extract from him information as to his confederates in that scheme, which was held to be so fatally perilous to the unity of the Church ; but he per- sistently declared that he had spoken to none re- garding it except the three brothers, Domenico, Silvestro, and Niccolo ; that he had not taken counsel with any of the princes of Italy nor any of the prelates or cardinals on the subject ; and that his hopes_were placed on the King of France, the Em- THE TRAGIC CLOSE 249 peror, the King of Spain, and the King of England. He was asked whether he had drawn from Fra Domenico or Fra Silvestro the secrets revealed to them in the confessional, and to this he stoutly and repeatedly answered that he had never done any such thing. Then Romolino, who appears to have assumed the leading part in the examination, ordered him to be stripped for the rope, and told him to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. The prospect of the terrible agony sent a spasm of terror through his shattered, sensitive frame. He flung himself on his knees, and exclaimed, " Ma gistrates of ^JFlorence, bear me witness that I have ^ denied my light from fear of tortur^ if I must suffer I will sutler tor the truth ; t hat w liich I have said I have hadT' f roHmod. O God, grant that I may repent of having denied _TK ee f o T^ear of torture. I deserve it." Then he was stripped . In vain he sliowed his left arm, aUTwrencEed and powerless — there was neither ruth nor pity to be looked for now. When drawn up by the pulley, he became delirious. " O Jesus, help me ; this time Thou hast caught me," he cried ; and on being asked, as he hung, why he said this, he replied, " That I might be thought a good man. Tear me no more. I will tell the truth, for sure, for sure." After being let down, he made the jjathetic acknow ledgment, " When I see the instrument s of tortur e 1 lose myse lf ; when I am in a room with a few men who deal peaceably with me I can express myself better." The next day there was another examination, and the torture was renewed, the main object being to wring oul of lilm more particulars as to the affair 2 50 SAVONAROLA of the General Council, and specially to discover whether his old friend Cardinal CarafFa of Naples had been implicated in the design. At one point, amid the frenzy of his sufferings, he seemed to con- fess the Cardinal's cognisance of the affair. " Naples ! Naples 1 " he exclaimed, " I consulted also with him ; " but when relieved from the racking torment, again he protested explicitly that the responsibility rested entirely on himself, and that neither the Cardinal nor any other was concerned in the scheme. Seeing at last that nothing further of real im- portance could be extracted either by threats or tortures, Romolino dismissed him with the command to appear on the morrow to receive his sentence. " I am a prisoner," Savonarola replied, " I will come if my jailer bring me." On th e 22nd of May the fate of Savon arola and his c ompanions was decided. The question had been discussed in a meeting'of officials, where one man, Ag nolo Niccolin i, was found honest enough to bear tcstimony jo the Friars Iftarnin o;, worfh of rTmrapfftr^ and hi gh moral influen ce, and generous enough to p1e?^] for the prftservation of hij^ h'ff^ at least, that, though in\]^risoned, he might benefit the world by his writings. But this witness had no support from his colleagues. Savonarola alive, they retorted, would be a danger to the public peace. " A dead„ ejiemy ma kes no more war ." The judges and commissioners had their consultation also, and they resolved on pas sing^ a -sen tence of death. That such a sentence had been deliberaleTjTcontem plated from the outset is only too clear from the whole course of procedure ; and the main object of the three successive trials THE TRAGIC CLOSE 251 had been to obtain a sufficiently ostensible warrant for pronouncing it. T hat warran t, it was held, had hftp. n fou od^ in_Saypnarola's crime in risking a dis- astrous sch ism in t he Church and consequent dis order in societ^by his General Council scheme; in his diso bedience to the authority of the J:^op e by setting at nought the decree of excommunication ; and in the p olitical and civil disco^-cj s which his interference in public affairs was alleged to have caused. In the excited condition of feeling at the time, and with a party in power implacably bent on getting a dreaded obstacle to their influence out of the way, those grounds sufficed as a colourable pretext for the Friar's condemnation. No allowance was made for the strong reasons which had moved Savonarola to act as he did — the wholesale bribery and notoriously immoral life of Alexander vi., by persisting in which he forfeited his right to dictate in the sphere of morals and religion. The Pope's jurisdiction, it was maintained, was not for a moment to be questioned, however unworthy his personal character might be ; and for such an attitude of opposition as Savonarola had presumed to take, death was the punishment inevitably due. The Signory in office endorsed the decision, as being in harmony with their views. The two other friars were included in the same con- demnation. R omolino, indeed, suggested that th e life of Fra Do menico should be spared, a s he was somewhat doubt fuT~as to the prudence of executing a man who was still in gre at tavour with a large "Action of th e citiz ens] Fra JJomenico, lie was immediately told, would keep alive the doctrines of Fra Girolamo. " Ah, well," he responded, " a wretched friar more 252 SAVONAROLA or less makes little difference; put him to death, then." The sentence was at once published in the city, and duly announced to the three condemned men that even- ing. Fra SilVestro was completely overwhelmed by the intelligence. He had neither the courage of the martyr nor the resignation of the saint. Fra Domenico, with his warm, loyal heart, was filled with joy at the thought of sharing the same fate as his master, and on being told, in answer to his inquiry as to the manner of death to be adopted, that he and the others were to be hanged first and then burnt, he pleaded that he might be burnt alive, and thereby give fuller proof of his devotion. Savonarola was on his knees in prayer when the messenger entered. He received the news of his_ ^ntence with calm resign ation. The worst bitter- ness had passed ; he had gone through his Gethsemane in some of the solitary hours he had first spent in that narrow prison-cell, when the sting^__^ Tgection and of apparently baffled endeavour pierced hiS soul, and he had faced in thought the awful crisis which he saw approaching ; and so, having already drunk the keenest drop in the cup of his agony, when informed that he must be prepared to die on the following morning, he offered no remark, but quietly resumed his broken prayer. Soon he was joined in his lonel}^ vigil by a good man, .Tn.P.Opn IV icCOlini, a ^^J^lb^^f ^^^ P-fltt^lt^' bvnfV.nvV.r>r>rl whose self-imposed task it was to ^attend and co mfort the doomed in their last hours. With face veiled, and robed m black from hea3~tO foot, he came to minister consolation to a brother-man in his adversity. " I do not come," he said, " to urge resignation on one who has THE TRAGIC CLOSE 253 converted a whole people to virtue." " Do your duty," was Savonarola's simple reply. He had only one re- quest to make, and that was, that his kindly visitor should procure for him the favour of a brief interview with his two brethren before death. Niccolini set out on his errand, and after some difficulty gained the Signory's consent. It was arranged that the interview should take place in the hall of the Greater Council, — the magnificent chamber which had been erected as an addition to the Palazzo Vecchio through the patriotic efforts of Savonarola in the great days of his popularity and power ; and under its spacious roof, amid the gloom of falling night, the three friars met again after six weeks of separation, during which they had undergone an experience of weary imprisonment and excruciating torture that had twisted their limbs, sapped their strength, and rent their hearts with sorrow. Both Fra Domenico and Fra Silvestro had been made aware of the master's supposed confession, but once more in his presence, and looking on his worn but serene face, they felt the old spell of his commanding soul, and all doubt vanished from their minds. Gently he reproved Fra Domenico for his desire to be burnt alive. " It is not given to any one," he said, " to choose the manner of his own death, but it is our duty only to take with joy the death which God may provide for us. Who knows if thou couldst undergo the death thou desirest, which depends not upon our strength, but the grace of God ? man should never tempt God." To Fra Silv estro he turned with a few words of grave yet kindly warn- ing. He knew that this brother in tended to spea k to the-pfioplajin d declare his innocence from the scaff old, and he enjoined him to abandon the idea. "Thou 2 54 SAVONAROLA shouldst keep thy peace like Christ, who, though in- nocent, yet would not declare His innocence even on the Cross." In reverent silence the two men listened to the admonitions thus addressed to them, and then, humbly kneeling at Savonarola's feet, they received his benediction, and were led away to their separate cells. In his own cell in the tower Savonarola had the company of the friendly Niccoli ni all through the hours ~of^ that last night on earth. Having declined the offer of food, lest the clearness of his mind should be disturbed, he was soon overcome by exhaustion, and was fain to ask^jffi£CQHGiio_aljJwJiim_laxesLhis oii_his knee. Thus pillowed, lying down on the floor, he fell asleep, and in his sleep his countenance became serene and smiling like a child's, and he seemed to his wondering companion as already enjoying a glimpse of the eternal blessedness. Awaking at last, he was full of thankfulness to his gentle and patient comforter, and opened his mind to him regarding the__troubles which he believed to be in s tore for F lorence, troubles which, according to the rather doubtfuF statement of Burlamacchi, he predicted w ould come to pass when fli^^rfi aVimilrl V>p a. ^Pnpp np Ted Clement . rulmg at Rome. When morning broke, Savonarola and the two con- demned brothers were permitted to meet once more in the sombre little chapel, with its few contracted win- dows and simple furnishings, on the third floor of the Palazzo. There, while the crowd was already begin- ning to gather in the broad Piazza outside, and the preparations for the execution were going on, those three men celebrated their last Sacrament together, and in the most sacred rites of relisfion nerved their THE TRAGIC CLOSE 255 souls for the fate which was now immediately at hand. The finest qualiti es^ of Savonarol a's spirit shone for th i n that solemn houE Raising" the consecrated Host, he broke out into fervent prayer, making confession of the genuine faith of his heart. " Lord, I know that Thou art that very God, the Creator of the world and of human nature. I know that Thou art that perfect, indivisible, and inse parable Trin ity, distinct in j hree Pers ons, Father, Son, and Holy Uhosi~ I know that Thou art that Eternal Word, who didst descend from heaven to ear th in the womb _of_tbft yirgin Mnry Thou didst ascend the wood of the Cross to shed Thy precious Blood for us, miserable sinners. I pray Thee, my Lord ; I pray Thee, my Salvation ; I pray Thee, my Consoler ; that such precious Blood be not shed for me in vain, but may be for the remission of all my sins. For these I crat Ye Thy pardon, fr om the day that I received the water of Holy Baptism even to this moment ; and I confess to The^, J^ord, my guilt. And so I crave pardon of Thee for what offences I have done to this city and all this people, in things spiritual and temporal, as well as for all those things wherein of myself I am not conscious of having erred. And humbly do I crave pardon of all those persons who are here standing round. May they pray to God for me, and may He make me strong up to the last end, so that the enemy may have no power over me. Amen." Then he and his companions took the Holy Communion ; and they were still devoutly kneeling in silent medita- tion when the guards came to lead them out to their doom. As they descended the stairs to the scene of exe- cution, Savonarola spoke a few words of encouragement to Fra Silvestro ; " We shall soon be there where we 2 56 SAVONAROLA can sing with David, ' Behold how good and pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity.' " A mighty concourse was waiting in the Piazza della Signoria, trembling with eagerness, yet for the most part awed and subdued. The citizens of Florence could not quite forget what the chief victim, whose death they had come to w^itness, had been. Many of them had chafed under his rigid moral restrictions ; many were opposed to him politically ; many were de- termined to break his power ; but there were thausMlds whose hearts had been cheered and strengthened by his__teaching, who had found an inspiration-fox their lives jn his h oly zeal, and who, though staggered and perplexed by his failure to substantiate his prophetic mission in the way they expected, were conscious of a mysterious sense of his greatness still haunting their thoughts. Many besides were there whose loyalty and faith had never faltered, and who cherished a secret hope that some sign might yet be given to attest their revered leader as the messenger of God. Again, as in the arrangements for the ordeal by fire, a long narrow platform stretched out from the corner of the Palazzo Vecchio for some distance across the square. In this case, however, the platform ended in a circular area on which a pile of fuel was heaped, and above this rose the gibbet, with its three halters and three chains — the latter to hold the bodies suspended after the fuel had been fired. The_^^bet, an upright beam with projecting arms, loo ked so like a cr oss, that the adherents of Savonarola were heard loudly mur- muring, " They^.axe going to crucify him like h is Master ; " and one arm had to be cut short to destroy the comparison. THE TRAGIC CLOSE 257 Three tribunals had been erected on the Palace bal- cony, between the doorway and the platform — one for the pre^idingjbishop, another for the Papal^commjs- sioners, and a third for the Gonfalaniere and thf^ Eight, whose function it was to gi ve the final order for death. When the three condemned friars, on coming down from the chapel, reached the Palace steps, they were met by a Dominican of Santa Maria Novella, who commanded them to be str ipped of their mon astic robes ; and so they emerged into view wearing only their woollen tunics, with feet bare and hands bound behind. They were then taken before the first tribunal, where the Bishop of Vasona, a n old disciple of Savon- arola, sat in charge, painfully ill at ease in fulfilling the duty laid upon him. There they were again clad in their religious vestments, and again stripped in token of their formal degradation. While this ceremony was being performed, the Bishop took Savonarola by the arm, and in the confusion of the moment stammered out, " I se parat e thee from the C hurch milita nt— and ti'iuiQphjjit? ^/^Ty ilitant ^ in cor- rection ; " not triumphant ; that is^no t in youn ^towei*." " Amen," said the Bishop, " may God lead you there." Then, in their bare woollen tunics once more, they passed to the next tribunal, where the Pope's commis- sioners read out their sentence, which condemned them as "heretics, schismatics, and despisers of the Holy See," and ordered them to be d elivered over to the s ecula r arm. When the reading was finisEe^ Ruirtelkio addedT^His SoJjjicas^ispleased to freeyou,from the pai ns of purg:atory by g ranting you aplenary indul- -S;^££§i- ^^ you accept itT' They bowed their heads 17 258 SAVONAROLA i n sign of assen t. At the third tribunal, where the ci vil auth orities sat, they heard their sentence con- firmed, and the death^penalty formally decreed — th^t they should be hanged and then burnt, " so that their souls should be entirely separated from their bodies." Thus, disrobed, degraded^ doomed Jo _death, they moved onwards to the scaffold, at first in silent prayer, and then reciting the Te Beum in an undertone together. As they passed along the roughly-constructed platform, their naked feet were pierced by sharp stakes thrust through the gaps between the planks by loose youths among the crowd. All round, in the space nearest to the platform, a wild rabble had collected, drawn from the worst elements of the population, and their spiteful insults, curses, and jeers formed a rude contrast to the subdued demeanour of the multitude that filled the .SQiiafe. Amid all the mockery "aiid violence, however, expressions of sympathy were not wanting. Some one held out food and pressed it on Savonarola to strengthen him, but he merely replied, " Why do you offer me these things, since I am now to depart this life ? " Another tried to comfort him by referring to the good works he had done. " God.o nly," he sai d, " can console men in their l ast hour." A friendly priesF"near by asked him, " With what spirit do you bear this martyrdom ? " " My Saviour," was his answer, " will- ingly died for me, and should not I w^illingly give up this poor body out of love to Him ? " At the foot of the scaffold they all kneeled, each one before his crucifix. Fra Silvestro was the first called on to suffer. He mounted"the steps firmly, f or str ength had co me to him at last, and with the words, " Lord, into Thy hands 1 commend my spirit," he gave his neck THE TRAGIC CLOSE 259 to the halter. Fra Domenico followed, and with beam- ing face went to his death as to a festival. Last of all came Savonarola, who had remained kneeling in pro- found thought while the execution of his companions was going on. Calm, resolute, with faith strong in God and in the work which God had given him to do, he mounted the scaffold, and for a moment cast his eyes round, and looked the multitude in the face. Oft en had he appealed to those people and stirred their hear ts "by h iF eloquence and^power ; but^all thought of appealing to them was abandoned now. Sorrowing for Florence7^he~^as utterly resigned as to his own fate. In that last glance he saw the vast throng awed into silence, the flash of thousands of eyes intent on wit- nessing his death, and, immediately beneath, the glare of torches burning, ready to fire the fuel in which his body would be consumed. Yet there was no word of remonstrance ; he s tood the re to meet his end at peace with himself, and in perfect charIty^JwitE2^^, men. Amid tKeTiusE~oTsuspense which fell as the halter was thrown over his neck and he was swung into the air, one harsh voice broke in with the derisive shout, " Now, prophet, is the time to work a miracle." And, indeed, the expect ation of a supernatnra.1 wftndft r was ^J^ still present in many minds. As soon as life"^was extinct the pile of faggots was lighted, but a gust gf ^Y^prl hi aw f.ViA flq,mp« nairlp and for some little while it seemed as if the vaguely looked- for prodigy had appeared. ''^ mirflplp, ^L-IIHIfilLs ' '' was the cry of many in their excitement, as they drew back startled at the sight. The wind ceased, and the flames leaped up and enveloped the suspended bodies The cords which bound Savonarola's arms were soon 26o SAVONAROLA consumed, and the scorc hing heat cause d his right hand to m ake a convulsi ve movement which arrested atten- tion. He was raising it, ^aId~hisTaTEEHTTollowerSj in theact of blessing the people who "hadnefuelly'hasBened his end. f-^hus, at ten o'clock in the morning of 23rd May ^498, d ied the~great preacher of Florence. wHoTLad /held a comma nding place in the mind o f his generation as a saiat_of exceptional purity, a devoted^ moral and religi ous re former, a powerful^political leader, a daring and independjantjhmker, a prophetic messenger of the Almighty. He was just in the middle period of his manhood — f oyty-five j^ ^^rs, of age. High as his aims were, and disinterested as were his motives, he had attempted a task which drew upon him opposition from many quarters and in many forms, and he fell a victim to the hostility he had raised. His ashes were flung into the Arno. Yile calumnies were heaped on his name ; his foes congratulated one another on his destruction. Yet the men and women who believed in him still — and they were much more numerous than on the surface appeared — cherished his memory and clung to his teaching with pious reverence. They g athered every relic of _h.im they could possibly find ; they came often to pray at the spot where he perished ; they depo sited flowers t here^ev ery year on the anni- versary of his death ; and the practice was taken up by devout souls in succeeding generations, and continued unbroken for two centuries or more. H is books w^ ^-p eagerly read ; the details of his life were industriously collected ; and ardent disciples found a pious joy in giving a record of his career and work to the world. CHAPTER XXV Review As in the case of many a distinguished man called to perform a difficult work in difficult times, and failing to carry the objects he aimed at to full visible success, the reputation of Savonarola has suffered from the shadow cast upon it by his failur e. His real greatness has been obscured, not so mucTi by the melancholy tragedy of his death, as by the troubles and animos- ities which beset him in his later days, and which to a lamentable degree cramped his usefulness and power. Those fat al embarrassments were due t o several causes, which, though already touched upon in the course of the narrative, may appropriately be summed up here. 1. He accepted a position which was too complicate d t o maintain. J n the attempt he made to CQjiihine_the ro le of political director with that of religious teacher and reformer, he undertook a task which, by very necessity, involved him in meshes of perplexing entanglement. The exigencies of the times were such that in his political action he was force d to identify himself with a particular party in the State, and, as a consequence, the interests of his religious work were mixed u p with that party's rising or falTmg forluiKia'. It was not in the nature "oF things that lie should 261 262 SAVONAROLA continue for long to control the government of the State from the pulpit without incurring for his doctrines, his reforming efforts, and his own person, the full brunt of p artisan enmity and i ntrigue. The > service he rendered Mbo Florence in f raming its co nsti-^^ tu tion a fter the expulsion of the Medici, was invaluable. It was a service thrust upon him by a pressure of circum- stances which it was impossible for him to withstand ; he was the only man of any influence in Florence who had a welLid afined. enlightened, practi cable_form of^ government to propose, and his success m securing its adoption was flattering in the highest degree. Uil- fortunately, however, having once been drawn so prominently into the sphere of politics, h ^ o.oulrl not restrai n him self from endeavouring more or less to regulat e the actu al working oF tFe political machinery heJiadorg;anised! TL^his was~one of the~rocKs~on which the lofty usefulness of his career was split. A factigus Dpposition was arousad, which, increasing always in bitterness and vehemence, broke down his sway as a religious teacher, and contributed to his destruction when the fitting opportunity arrived. Moreover, the difficulties thus occasioned were aggravated by the collision into which his political action brought him with the Pope, whose implacable resentment he incurred by standing between him and his favourite policy of drawing Florence into the Holy League. 2. He imposed a restraint which inevitably provoked revolt. Well-meant and laudable as most of his regu- lations for the reform of manners were, Savonarola committed the mistake of enforcing t heir obs ervance by meas ures 61 undue seve rity. Prince Schwartzenberg was right when he said, " You can do anything with REVIEW 263 bayonets except sit on them." That was a terse, picturesque statement of the truth that the enforce- ment of rig id rules by means correspondingly rig id is a peEiiourexperim ent. On that experiment Savonarola ventured, and the hostility which latterly crippled his work and compassed his downfall was largely owing to the rebellious feeling stirred up thereby. 8. He assumed apr erogative w jiic h it wj ^S-hazard- ous to exercise! By the clai m to direct supe rnatural ilLuinmaiion which he asserted so persistently, though with sincere enough intent, Savonarola fostered a strong delusion in the popular mind ; and when that delii ^on was shattered by t he disappointment in con- nec tion with the ordeal byfiFe, he lost a po w erful bod y of .suppor t, and was left helplessly exposed to the political and ecclesiastical enmities that were conspiring to ruin him. In brief, Savonarola's action in politics drew upon him the rancour of opposing factions in the Republic and of the Pope at Rome. The ascetic rigour of his reforms kindled resentments, deep and fierce. His honest but mistaken zeal in insisting on his prophetic and supernatural gifts excited expectations which he c ould not possibly fulfil, and which, when baffled, created an irritation fatally damaging to his influence and prestige. Such were the circumstances which have cast a shadow over the real greatness of Savonarola. Never theless, the greatness was there, and had been un- mistakably proved — the s plendjj intellectual capacity, the firm gras p of knowledge, penetrati ng insi^hj^ wide sweep of thought, lo fty devo tion— oL-Smilv bold and eon iveri powerful personality. And the force of his exalted y 264 SAVONAROLA endowments was heightened by the passionate earnest- ness of his nature, his unfaltering faith in the eternal majesty of righteousness, the high moral aims by which he was fired. Though foiled, by the confusions of a ■dCoaam pt transitional age, i n accomplishing all the ends tor which he strove, and though struck down by the very opposition which his high-purposed efforts had awakened, such a man was bound to exert an influence of no ordinary character on the mind and life of the world. The moral enthusiasm he infused into the nobler spirits of his time lived on after him. He turned men's thoughts to the great living problems of existence ; and in numberless cases where his opinions were disowned and his peculiar work slighted, the me ntal ince ntive recei ved fro m his preaching and writings impelle d men to~ pursue the tra ck of inquiry in the new direction to which his venturesom e genius h ad poind ed: To a great extent he res cued the New Xiearninj ^in Florence and throughout Ital y from the barren and frivolous uses to which it was being applied, and he did it by the conception, wnicn^'^was always prominent in his teaching, of the vital relation which all learning has to the larger and more stirring interests of life. Vxhus the work which tlj ^ Human ists of the Renaissance were doing in quickening the free activity of the spirit of man, Sav onarola lifted to a region calculated to afford results more directly be neficial to , the progress and elevation of huma nity. Again, the testimony which by word and example he bore for the freedom of the human soul against political despotism on the one hand, and unbending ecclesiastical officialism on the other, had effects which lasted far beyond the term of his own brief career.A Though himself finally REVIEW 265 crushed, a martyr to the work which he felt laid upon him by the will of the Almighty, he broke open a path by which others could advance and the world move forward to a better day. Society was waking up, but was restless, uncertain, easily misled ; he gave voice to the vague aspirations of his time, fed and strengthened all that was best in them, put them into definite form, and revealed the lines along which the struggle should be made if their realisation was ever to be reached. /a particularly important factor in Savonarola's in- fluetice as an epoch-maker was the fresh, arrest ing ligh t he threw on the esse ntial vjiln A^for tViA good of the w orld of practical Christian mor ality.: This, in fact,' was his supreme idea, which he held up and flashed on men's minds in every sermon, book, or pamphlet, w hether h e dealt with religious, political, or so cial themes ^ It wa^gjn the interests of Christian mo rality that he prized his positioi ^ «« thp. p.hip.f pr^aphpr in Fl orence, and that he was induced to enter the arena of political atfa irs. And his enthusiasm for this object it was which inspired his dream of c onverting Flor ence inf,n fl. \^^nnrii.o.Y Many of his reforming measures, as has been seen, collapsed. In the impetuousness of his zeal he fell into mistakes as to the methods and means by which the end he sought could be attained. But the great idea itself — th e^ idea of prac tical ri ghteousness, justice, purity, and good-doing , as the fundamental conditions of well-being in the Church and the State, in soci al and private l ife — was so st rikingly presen ted and pressed, that it" laid hold of men's inmost convictions, and gave to the moral sense of that generation a stimulus which was passed on, to stir to higher moral life the generations following. 266 SAVONAROLA V /Perhaps, after all, S avonarol a's most distinctive ^ con- / tri bution to the pro g ress of the WQ jjiLjg^as jthejnoral pas sion he inspired — the f eeling he awakened in a Bord id, pagan age of the great ej idjl of life, of the fieeds and claims of man's immortal nature, of the i^lory of truth and the noble endeavour for right, that passion was in himself ; it throbbed through the sermons he preached, and through the writings he left behind him. And it freshened me n's th inking; it qiiiVJ£ftn^d^h^j2in]gf^ pf th^ir -w^hnlp ment al being; it forced on them a new standard of judgment ; it fired them with visions of higher stages of good for humanity, and nerved them to strain forward to the \ untold possibilities of the future. Thus Savonarola stood at the dawn of a new era, and roused men's minds to move on and grasp its larger interests, and share its freer and more vivid activities. So far, no doubt, he was still clog ged b y V^he t rammels of mediaeval trad ition, mediaeval asceti- v^isms and Rnpftrstitj ons, mpdiaRvar scholastic ism and /^pedantry, med iaeval conceptions of the supern atural. Ye t he was alive and a.wa.kp. with q, new spi rit of enterprise, panting to strike out on bolder, freer lines of thought, and to find fresh paths of effort for the "'^-'-v^highest human energies. He was like one of those figures to be seen in old pictures of the Resurrection at the Last Judgment — half-risen and erect, with eyes eagerly turned, and arms uplifted, towards the new light of life, but with feet still bound and clasped in the encumbering earth, and not yet perfectly free. Hampered though he was by the crude ideas and habits amid which he had grown up, S avona rola jn^ c ertain outstanding ^ pm'rtp was in advance of his age. REVIEW 267 In his determined testimony on behalf of the inde- pe ndence of the human cons nienp.ft. in his flissei-tion of ev ery man's right to question al l aaithority not bas ed on justice and re ctitude, and in his insistenc e on the C hristian moral Ideal as the supreme rule in all departments of private and public life, he took up a positionwhich was novel and unfamiliar to the men of That da y. And he had to suffer the penalties of originality, penalties that came upon him with quicker stroke and heavier force by reason of his very courage and sincerity. Had he been less daring or less honest, more inclined to trim and temporise, he might have escaped many of the troubles which combined so tragically to end his career. Had he been less im- patient to see his ideas and the new order he looked for established in actual fact, he might have avoided the most fatal of the mistakes into which he was betrayed. But the moral strenuousness of his temper could not be repressed ; it urged him on, regardless of all prudential cautions. And when the storm burst on him and wrought his death, it was his own intrepid, uncompromising loyalty to the high purpose of his life, .and to what he believed to be the cause of human progress, that brought it down in such overwhelming fury. For, in George Eliot's words, " power rose ag^a inst him not because of his sins, but beca use~ot his g reatness— no t because he sou£>- ht to deceive the world, but b ecause he sought to make it nobleT' — - TTwould be vain to conceal or minimise his limita- tions and his errors ; and there is no need to make the attempt in order to establish his claim to generous recognition. The place he filled in the life of his 268 SAVONAROLA generation, the breath of fresh vitality he introduced into human thought, and the invigorating impetus he gave to the best human aspirations ; his progressive spirit, and the higher conceptions of well-being to which he struggled unswervingly to lead society forward — all these features of his life and work, combined with the masterful force and devoted fer- vour of his own mind, entitle Fra Girolamo Savonarola to be ranked among the world's great epoch-making men. INDEX Albeeti, Piero degli, 234. Alexander vi., Pope, his election and character, 63, 64, 134; scan- dalous doings of his family and Court, 162 ; excommunication of Savonarola, 169-171 ; grief over the murder of his son, 176, 177 ; threatens Florence with an Inter- dict, 196, 201 ; his gratification at Savonarola's imprisonment, 232, 233 ; sends commissioners to the trial of Savonarola, 247. Angelico, Fra, 28, 29. Antonino, first Prior of San Marco, 29. Apocalypse, Savonarola lectures on, 43, 44. Apology for the Congregation of San Marco, 152. Aquinas, Thomas, Savonarola's study of his writings, 12, 13, 24. Aristotle, his hold on the schools of the Middle Ages, 12. Arrabbiati, 126, 147, 166. Art in Florence, 33 ; Savonarola's attitude towards, 159, 160. Bargello, the, 180, 234. Benedetto, Fra, 226, 228, 240. Benevieni. Girolamo, 158. Bentivoglio, Giovanni, his wife interrupts Savonarola's sermons and threatens his life, 66-68. Bianchi, the ''Whites," 126. Biblioteca Laurenziana, 159. Bigi, the "Greys," 126. Bologna, Savonarola's monastic life at, 21-25 ; his preaching at a later visit, 66-68. Bonsi, Domenico, 55. Borgia, Piero, Duke of Gandia, murder of, 176, 177. Borgia, Roderigo, elected Pope. See Alexander vi. Bracci, Ser Alessandro, 164, Brescia, 39, 40. Briefs, Papal, with reference to Savonarola, 135, 136, 137, 139, 152, 169, 197, 201. Calvin, his experiment compared with Savonarola's, 121. Cambi, Giovanni, 179. " Canti Carnascialeschi, " 34. Capponi, Piero, 82, 83 ; defies Charles viii., 92 ; death, 150. Caraffa, Cardinal, of Naples, 70, 142, 152, 164, 250. Cardinal's hat, offer of, to Savon- arola, 148, 149. Careggi, scene of Lorenzo de Medici's death, 58. Carnival, Savonarola's efforts to reform, 141, 142, 156. Ceccone, Ser, the notary engaged for Savonarola's trial, 236, 240, 248. Charles viii. of France, his de- signs on Naples, 78 ; enters Italy, 80 ; interviews with Savonarola, 87, 88, 93, 94, 130, 131 ; occupies Florence, 90-94 ; his death, 233. 270 INDEX Commissioners, Papal, appointed to try Savonarola, 243, 247. Compagnacci, the "Evil Com- panions," 126, 155, 168. Compendium JRevelationum, 115, 117, 225. ''Conclusions" of Fra Domenico, 210. Congregation, separation of Tuscan from Lombard, 69, 70. Constitution of Florence remodelled, 102-107. Council of the Church, General, Savonarola's efforts to secure, 205-207. Council, Great, instituted at Flor- ence, 102, 103. "Cyrus," the new, from beyond the Alps, 75. Devotional writings of Savon- arola, 73, 184. Dialogo delta Verita Profetica, 117. Domenico da Pescia. Fra, 137, 141, 155 ; accepts the challenge to the ordeal by fire, 207, 217, 231; execution, 259. Dominicans, a preaching order, 26 ; last injunctions of their founder, 71. Donatello's "Judith and Holo- fernes," 108. Duomo of Florence, scene of Savon- arola's pulpit triumphs, 45, 101, 102, 105, 106, 109-112. Editcatign, Savonarola's interest in, 118. Epistle against the Surreptitious Ex- communication, 172, 173. Este family, 10, 11. Excommunication of Savonarola, 169-171 ; discussions as to its validity, 172, 173. Execution of Bernardo del Nero and his fellow-conspirators, 180 ; of Savonarola and his two brother- monks, 258-260. Ferrara, 11 ; Savonarola's early preaching effort, 26. Ficino, Marsilio, 31, 158. j Florence, 28 ; its appearance, people, and industries, 29 ; its condition under Medici rule, 30-33 ; art- istic and literary activity com- bined with moral degeneracy, 33 ; expulsion of the Medici, 86 ; visit of the French, 90-94 ; re- establishment of Reymblican constitution, 95-107 ; pestilence and famine, 149 ; unsuccessful attempt of Piero de Medici to return, 165, 166 ; visited by the plague, 175 ; trial of the Medicean conspirators, 179-182 ; threat- ened mth a Papal Interdict, 196 ; arrival of Pope's commissioners, 247 ; the death scene of Savon- arola, 256-260. Francesco di Puglia, Fra, challenges Savonarola to the ordeal by fire, 209, 210. Francis of Assisi, his youth con- trasted with Savonarola's, 13. French alliance with Florence, 93. French in Florence, 90-94. Gandia, Duke of, 176, 177. Gerson's views on submission to ecclesiastical authority, 173. Guilds of Youth, formed under Savonarola, 141, 142. Holy League, 130, 148, 153. Humanists, 3, 4, 264. Innocent VIIL, Pope, 38. Interdict, Papal, on Florence threat- ened, 196, 197. Italy, Renaissance in, 2-8, 50, 51 ; its princes great patrons of learn- ing and art, 2 ; their despotism and luxury, 5, 75 ; invaded by Charles viii., 80, 81 ; jealousies among its States, 81. "Lazarus, come forth," 163, 205. Letters of Savonarola, to his father, INDEX 271 19, 20 ; to his mother, 40, 41 ; to Fra Domenico, 52, 53 ; to Pope Alexander, 136, 137, 138, 170 ; on death of Pope's son, 177, 178 ; last remonstrance, 203, 204. Library, Medicean, rescued by Savonarola, 159. Ludovico Sforza, Duke of Milan, 78, 135, 149, 151, 207. Luther's view of Savonarola's doc- trine as foreshadowing his own, 246. Macchiavelli, 97, 107. Malatesta Sacromoro, Fra, offers himself for the ordeal by tire, 211 ; plays the traitor, 230, 232. Mariano da Gennazzano, Fra, a rival preacher, 35, 56, 57, 169, 197. Mary Tudor and Calais, 76. Mazzinghi, Domenico, 207. Medici, Cosimo de, 28, 30. Medici, Giuliano de, murder of, 32. Medici, Lorenzo de, 30 ; his patron- age of culture and art, 31 ; the Pazzi conspiracy against his life, 32 ; his strangely mixed character and pursuits, 34 ; attitude to- wards Savonarola, 53-60 ; his death, 60. Medici, Piero de, appearance and character, 61, 62 ; surrenders to Charles viii., 84 ; expulsion from Florence, 86 ; attempt to return, 195, 196. Medici palace ransacked, 94. Meditations, Savonarola's, on Psalms 51st and 31st, 243-247. Michael Angelo, 31 ; his interest in Savonarola, 160. Mirandola, Pico della, 31 ; his learning and gifts, 36, 37; secures return of Savonarola to Florence, 42 ; his sympathy with Savon- arola's work, 84. Monte di Pieta, its objects, 118 ; inauguration of, 146. Morgante Maggiore, Pulci's, 31. Mysticism, Savonarola's, 47-49. Nero, Bernardo del, 165 ; execution on charge of treason, 179. Niccolini, Agnolo, 250. Niccolini, Jacopo, 252-254. Niccolo d'Este, Duke of Ferrara, 10. Noah's Ark, sermons on, 76, 77, 80, 81. Ordeal by fire, 208-223. Pageants and spectacles provided by Italian princes, 5, 11. Palazzo Vecchio, Savonarola preaches in, 52, 101 ; its Great Hall, 149, 253 ; Savonarola im- prisoned in tower, 232 ; his last Sacrament in chapel, 254, 255. " Palle, Palle ! " rallying cry of the Medici, 86. Parlamento, 95, 131, 132. Parties and party names in Florence, 125, 126. Pazzi conspiracy, 32. Piagnoni, 126, 166. Piazza della Signoria, scene of re- jection of Piero de Medici, 86 ; of the Burning of the Vanities, 156, 157, 195 ; of the gathering for the ordeal by fire, 216, 217 ; of the death of Savonarola, 256- 260. Pisa throws off allegiance to Florence, 89 ; Savonarola's visit, 85, 87, 88. Plague in Florence, 149, 175. Plato, Savonarola's study of, 17, 24, 25. Platonic Academy at Florence, 31, 33, 34. Poems, Savonarola's, 15, 23. Poetry, Savonarola's views on, 158. Poggibonsi, 130, 131. Police, boy, organised by Savon- arola, 155, 156. Poliziano, Angelo, 31, 84. Prato, Savonarola's visit, 148. Preaching, character of Savon- arola's, 45, 47, 75, 76, 145. Prelates, Savonarola's sarcasm on, 74, 75. 272 INDEX Prophecies, Savonarola's, believed in by himself, 65, 114, 115. Propositions, Savonarola's three, 38, Pucci, Gionozzo, 179. Pulci, Luigi, author of Morgante Maggiore, 31. Rapallo, sack of, 80. Reform of San Marco Convent, 69-72 ; of Florentine manners, 119-121 ; of Carnival, 141, 156 ; of taxes, 104. Reggio, Chapter-General at, 36. Renaissance, 2-5 ; Savonarola's in- fluence on it, 6-9, 50, 51, 264- 267. Revolution in Florence, 82, 86. Riario, Count, 32. Ridolfi, Niccolo, 179. Rieti, Tommaso da, 107. Robbia, Fra Luca della, 226. Romolino, Francesco, 247, 248, 250, 251, 257. Rondinelli, Fra Giuliano, 210, 218. Rovere, Cardinal Giuliano della, 78, 205, 206. Rucellai, Bernardo, 55. '' Ruina Ecclesiae, De," 23. ''RuinaMundi, De," 15. " Rule for Virtuous Living," 247. Sacrament, Savonarola's last, 254, 255. Salviati, Marcuccio, 215. Salviati, Fra Roberto, 211, 219. San Gallo, convent and church of, 56, 57. San Gemignano, 38. San Lorenzo, church of, Savon- arola's first attempt to preach in Florence, 34. San Marco, convent of, 28, 29 ; Savonarola's reforms and rela- tions with the monks, 69-73 ; attacked by the mob, 225 ; de- fection of the monks, 240, 241. Santa Croce, convent and church of. 209, 233. Savonarola, Elena, mother of Giro- lamo, 10 ; letter to her, 40, 41. Savonarola, Girolamo, Fra, birth and parentage, 10 ; boyhood and early education, 11-13 ; religious broodings, 14, 15 ; love episode, 16 ; resolves on the monastic life, 17, 18 ; letter to his father, 19, 20 ; austerities at Bologna, 21, 22 ; poem, " De Ruina Ec- clesiae," 23; work among the novices, 24 ; study of Plato, 24, 25 ; love for Old Testament, 25 ; preaches at Ferrara, 26 ; trans- ferred to Florence, 27 ; failure in his first preaching there, 34, 35 ; Chapter-General at Reggio, 36, 37 ; fore -consciousness of his mission, 37 ; preaches in the provinces, where he puts forth his three propositions and finds his power, 38-41 ; recalled to Florence, 42 ; lectures in convent garden, 43 ; begins to preach in church of San Marco, and then in Cathedral, 44, 45 ; style of preaching and personal appear- '■^ ance, 44-48 ; influence on the Renaissance, 6-9, 50, 51 ; elected Prior of his convent, 53 ; atti- tude towards Lorenzo de Medici, 53-60 ; preaches at Bologna, 66- 68 ; his reforms at San Marco, 69-73 ; denunciations of prelates and princes, 74, 75 ; sermons on Noah's Ark, 76, 77, 80, 81 ; ambassador to Charles viii. at Pisa, 83-89 ; constrains Charles to leave Florence, 93, 94 ; re- establishes the Republican con- stitution in Florence, 98-107 ; endeavours to convert Florence into a Theocracy, 108-122 ; pub- .^ lishes Cojnjyendium Revelationum in defence of his visions and pro- phecies, 115-117 ; reformation of manners, 119 ; difficulties in his work, 123-133 ; enmity of the Pope, 134-140 ; work among the young, 141, 142, 146, 147 ; the INDEX 273 offer of a cardinal's hat, 148, 149 ; new troubles with the Pope, 151, 152 ; the burning of the " Vani- ties," 154-161 ; attitude towards art and poetry, 158-161 ; rescues the Medicean Library, 158, 159 ; gradual decline of his power, 166, 167 ; insults by the Compagnacci, 168 ; sentence of excommunica- tion, 169-171 ; his defence, 172, 173 ; six months of silence, 175-185 ; devoted conduct dur- ing the plague, 175, 176 ; letter of condolence to the Pope, 177, 178 ; The Triumph of the Cross, 184-186 ; defies the Pope, 189, 190 ; strange challenge in front of San Marco, 194, 195 ; gather- ing shadows, 196, 197 ; letter of remonstrance to the Pope, 203, 204 ; closes his public ministry, 204, 205 ; efforts to procure a General Council of the Church, 205-207 ; challenged to the ordeal by fire, 209-214 ; his convent attacked by the mob, 225 ; surrender and imprison- ment, 231, 232 ; examination and torture, 234-237 ; second trial, 238, 239 ; his monks break down in their allegiance, 240 ; writes in prison his expositions of 51st and 31st Psalms, 243-247 ; third trial, under Pope's com- missioners, 248-250 ; sentenced to death, 250 ; interview with his two companions in tribula- tion, 253 ; his last night on earth, 254 ; last Sacrament, 255 ; the death scene, 258-260 ; re- verence of his faithful disciples for his memory, 260 ; the cir- cumstances which embarrassed his career, 261-263 ; his real V greatness, services, and place in history, 263-268. Savonarola, Michele, grandfather of Girolamo, 10, 11. Savonarola, Niccolo, father of Giro- lamo, 10 ; letter to him, 19, 20. Scholastic philosophy, 12, 24. Silvestro Marufti, Fra, 212, 232, • 239, 252, 253 ; his death, 258. Simplicity of the Christian Life, On the, 148. Six Beans, Law of the, 104, 105. Sixtus IV., Pope, 22, 23, 32. Soderini, Paolo Antonio, 55, 100. Soldiers, Savonarola's remonstrance with, 26, 27. Spini, Dolfo, 155, 168, 215, 234. Strozzi, Alessandro, 219. Strozzi, Laodamia, unsuccessfully wooed by Savonarola, 16. Taxes, reform of, in Florence, 104. Tornabuoni, Lorenzo, 179. Tractates, Savonarola's devotional, 73, 184. Trattato circa il Reggim-ento e Governo della Cittd di Firenza, 100. Trial of Bernardo del Nero and the Medici conspirators, 179, 180; of Savonarola, 234-240, 248-250. Triumph of the Cross, The, 154, 184-186. ''Turn of the Key," the, 198, 205. Turriano, Giovacchino, 247. Ughi, Fra Mariano, 211, 224. Valori, Francesco, 55, 100, 154, 180, 226, 227. Vanities, Burning of the, 156-161, 195. Vasona, Bishop of, 257. Venetian model, the, 100. Vespucci, Guid' Antonio, 55, 100, 200. Violi, Lorenzo, reporter of Savon- arola's sermons, 112. Vision of the two crosses, 62, 63 ; y c-iihG sword, 64. j visions and prophecies, 48, 49, ! 114, 115. 1 j Zati, Bartolo, 234. T. and T. Clark's Publications. THE WORLD'S EPOCH-MAKERS. A Series of Biographical Studies dealing with Prominent Epochs in Theology, Philosophy, and the History of Intellectual Development. Edited by OLIPHANT SMEATON. Each Volume contains on an average 250 pages, and is published at $1.25. The Volumes will not appear in strict chronological sequence. I. BUDDHA AND BUDDHISM. The First Bursting of the Fetters of Ignorance and Superstition. By Arthur Lillie, M.A., London. [Now ready. II. SOCRATES. The Moral Awakening of the Western World. By Rev. J. T. Forbes, M.A., Edinburgh. III. PLATO AND ARISTOTLE. A Contrast and an Appreciation. By Professor D. G. 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