TWO FAMILIAR FACES.
5
unrestrained during the halcyon years of his ambitious career.
Call to mind another face, not handsome, but bearing the lines of power and an iron will, yet softened and beautified by an expression of nobility and sincerity, which gives to it the look almost of divinity. His dress is simply the long black gown of a monk, and this, with his firm, serious face, announces to the world the noble mission of Savonarola.
Florence, in the year 1492, was completely given over to gross excesses and base debauchery. Lasciviousness, treachery and passion walked abroad among the people unfettered. Religion, holiness and virtue had been driven forth, and even the cultured and learned were dead to faith and right. But see, a familiar face is appearing in the midst of these monstrous excesses!
Soon the blue eyes flash with fiery indignation, and now the whole being is filled with sorrow, as the unholy scenes around are discovered. A firm resolve takes possession of that noble soul, and now he speaks.
Savonarola is called to the pulpit at San Marco. His fame spreads, and soon the Duomo is crowded almost to suffocation with a breathless, eager throng, waiting to catch the words of the mighty orator. He advances, and now, filled with the spirit of prophecy, he pierces the veil of futurity and discloses to the trembling Florentines their impending doom. Now he hurls fiery denunciations upon them, and points with a prophetic hand to the sure and inevitable end of their wickedness and sin. Now, with all his burning eloquence and soul-felt earnestness he appeals to their better natures. Sobs follow that breathless silence, and the victory is won, for Florence yields at last to his entreaties.
The shades of night have fallen over
lovely Italy, and in Florence, in the midst of a mighty throng, a vast column has been reared, covered from base to apex with worldly trappings and works of immodest design. Suddenly the pile is fired, the vanities burn, shouts rend the air, the flames mount up to heaven and in characters of glowing fire proclaim to the world the accomplished work of Savonarola; tyranny banished, liberty established and the people reclaimed.
Return again to that other face. In its history we find that Wolsey early ingratiated himself into the favor of Henry VIII, and by a wonderful cunning he gained such power over his royal master, that soon he not only swayed the scepter of state, but was clothed with an ecclesiastical power which vied with that of the pope.
Did a love for his fellow men and a desire to lift and benefit suffering humanity impel him to this delirious grasp for power? No, a selfish ambition burned in his soul. His bark bounds on; he sees not the sunken reef ahead; he raises high in air his ambitious motto, "Power and Dominion." All thought of the means by which these ends are to be reached is cast aside.
Ambitious for power, but still more desirous of glory; insatiable in his acquisitions, but still more magnificent in his expense. Advance follows advance, victory follows victory, until at last unlimited possessions, power and dominion are Wolsey's. His bark has sailed her course and anchors at last in the longed-for port.
Once more it is night in Florence, and again in the Piazza Gran Duca is gathered a frenzied, anxious throng. Has this raging sea of human beings assembled to witness once more the burning of vanities? Alas, nay! but to see the burning of the funeral pyre of Savonarola. Savonarola's firm, unswerving nature was not terrified into silence by the threats of his jealous and malignant enemies.