The immediate effect of Savonarola’s teaching was that the citizens of Florence began suddenly to lead lives of strict simplicity, renouncing frivolity, feasting, and gambling, and even dressing with austere plainness, discarding their jewels and ornaments. The carnival of 1497 was celebrated by “a bonfire of the vanities” in the great square of the town. Priceless manuscripts and precious folios were hurled from the windows into the street and collected in carts with other articles by troops of boys dressed in white. A huge pyramid twenty feet high was erected in the Piazza. At the bottom of it were stacked masks and dresses and wigs; on the step above, mirrors, puffs, curling-tongs, hair-pins, powder and paint. Still higher were lutes, mandolines, cards, chessmen, balls, dice; then came drawings and priceless pictures and statues in wood and colored wax of gods and heroes. Towering higher than anything else, on the top a figure of Satan was enthroned, a monstrous puppet, filled with gunpowder and sulphur, with goat’s legs and a hairy skin. At nightfall a great procession accompanied Savonarola to the spot. Four monks with torches set fire to the pyramid, and as it crackled and blazed the people danced and yelled and screamed round it, while drums and trumpets sounded and bells pealed from the church towers. This was the very crude method by which Savonarola sought to abolish the luxury and the vanity which he considered were degrading the lives of the people.
While Savonarola was at the height of his power and fame, filling the cathedral with dense crowds who flocked to hear him, his enemies were already engaged in plotting his downfall. He had succeeded in destroying the authority of the Medici in Florence itself, but there was another and a stronger authority outside with whom he had still to reckon, and this was the Pope.
It is difficult to believe now, when a venerable and respected ecclesiastic, living in quiet retirement at Rome, represents the head of the Roman Catholic Church, that at the end of the fifteenth century a series of men held that office who were Italian princes, many of whom had for their chief purpose the enrichment of themselves and their families by means of treachery and violence. It happened that the very worst of these, a member of the Borgia family, whose infamous career of crime is notorious in history, was Pope at this time under the name of Alexander VI. A conflict was inevitable between this unscrupulous prince and the high-minded priest who desired to free the Church from the corrupt state which money, intrigue, and worldliness had brought it.
Alexander VI tried first by bribery to silence the daring preacher. He offered him the red hat of a cardinal, but Savonarola replied, “No hat will I have but that of a martyr reddened with my own blood.” The Pope was joined by the Duke of Milan in attempting to deprive the Prior of his power. He invited Savonarola to Rome, at first courteously, but when a refusal came he repeated his commands peremptorily and at last accompanied by threats, but still Savonarola refused to obey. As he continued to preach both in Florence and in other towns, Alexander became alarmed lest the strength of his voice might shake even the power of Rome. An unsuccessful attempt was made on his life. The citizens of Florence were already beginning to grow weary of the austere regulations imposed upon them. The city became sharply divided into two political factions. The supporters of Savonarola are called the Piagnoni, his enemies the Arrabbiati. Even the children joined in and greeted each other with showers of pebbles. One day the Prior was insulted in the cathedral, where an ass’s skin was spread over the cushion of the pulpit and sharp nails were fixed in the board on which he would strike his hand.
Then at last, with great ceremonial, an order from the Pope was read excommunicating him, that is to say, expelling him from the Church. But still Savonarola took no notice whatever, declaring that a man so laden with crime and infamy as Alexander was no true Pope. He continued to preach and even to celebrate Mass in the cathedral. At the next carnival, amidst extraordinary excitement and reveling, he ordered a second bonfire of vanities, in which many costly objects were again destroyed. His sermons contained hostile references to the Pope, whose life and career were openly described, and he went so far as to address letters to the great sovereigns of Europe, including Henry VII of England, bidding them call a council to depose Alexander VI. One of these letters was intercepted and sent to Rome by the Duke of Milan.
After a brief period of comparative quiet, during which Florence was visited by the plague, a conspiracy for the restoration of the Medici was discovered. Five leading citizens were found to be mixed up in the plot, one of them a much respected old man called Bernardo del Nero. All five were seized and put to death. It was said that had Savonarola raised his voice he might anyhow have obtained mercy for Bernardo. But he remained silent, and so increased the number of his enemies and the exasperation of Pope Alexander.
Meanwhile, in the city itself another dispute arose. A bitter feud had long existed between the Order of the Franciscan monks and the Order of the Dominicans. The Franciscans having heard that Savonarola would go through fire to prove the truth of his prophetic gifts, he was challenged from the pulpit of Santa Croce to put his miraculous powers to the test. He dismissed the proposal with contempt, but one of his over-zealous followers accepted, and a trial by fire was arranged. Savonarola no doubt saw the folly of the whole proceeding. He dared not refuse, but he hesitated, and was accused of showing cowardice. On April 7, 1498, two piles were erected in the Piazza. They were forty yards long and five feet high, and composed of faggots and broom that would easily blaze up. The stacks were separated by a narrow path of two feet, down which the two priests were to pass. Every window was full; even the roofs were packed; and it seemed as if the whole population of the city had crowded to the spot. The two factions were assembled in an arcade called the Loggia dei Lanzi. Disputes arose between them. The Dominicans insisted that their champion should carry the Host with him into the flames. This the Franciscans declared was sacrilege. The mob, who had come to witness the barbarous spectacle, some of them hoping to see a miracle, were impatient and disappointed, and when, after hours of waiting, a shower of rain came and finally put an end to the farce, they became infuriated.
You may think that people were very superstitious in those days, to believe that men could walk through fire or that a man could prophesy and that his face could shine with light. They were indeed very superstitious, especially about religious happenings. But I rather think many people still suffer from this weakness, although it may be in a different way. Superstition is the sign of a shallow and uneducated mind, or a mind that is unbalanced, and it will be a long time before there are no people of that sort in the world. It is not surprising, therefore, that these Florentines should have been aroused to fury by this ridiculous business. They probably thought they were being made fools of, and were ashamed, too, that they had taken the whole thing seriously. Anyhow, some one had to pay.
Savonarola and his followers hurried back to their convent and only just managed to escape. Although from the pulpit of the church the Prior attempted to give his explanation of the events, it was clear that from that moment his power was at an end. The fickle Florentines, ready for the next sensation and prepared to submit with light-hearted indifference to whatever faction was the most powerful at the moment, drew away from their prophet and lawgiver and deserted him. His enemies had gained the upper hand, and the Council, completely hostile to him, eventually decreed his banishment.
Meanwhile the mob collected outside St. Mark’s. They threw a volley of stones at the windows of the church, which was filled with people. There was a panic. The convent gates were closed and barred. Some of the monks had secretly brought in arms, helmets, halberts, crossbows, and a barrel of gunpowder.