e reel of
time.

Savonarola thundered against the extravagance, moral riot and pomp of
the rich--and this meant the Medici, and all those who fed at the public
trough, and prided themselves on their patriotism.

Lorenzo grew uneasy, and sent requests that the preacher moderate his
tone in the interests of public weal. Savonarola sent back words that
were unbecoming in one addressing a ruler.

Then it was that Lorenzo the Magnificent, also the wise and wily,
resolved on a great diplomatic move.

He had the fanatical and troublesome monk, Fra Girolamo Savonarola, made
Prior of the Monastery of Saint Mark's--success was the weapon that
would undo him.

Of course, Lorenzo did not act directly in the matter--personally he did
not appear at all.

Now the Prior of Saint Mark's had the handling of large sums of money,
the place could really be the home of a prince if the Prior wished to be
one, and all he had to do was to follow the wishes of the Magnificent
Lorenzo.

"Promote him," said Lorenzo, "and his zeal will dilute itself, and
culture will come to take the place of frenzy. Art is better than
austerity, and silken robes and 'broidered chasubles are preferable to
horsehair and rope. A crown looks better than a tonsure."

And Savonarola became Prior of Saint Mark's.

Now the first duty, according to established custom, of a newly
appointed Prior was to call, in official robes, and pay his respects to
Lorenzo, the nominal governor of Florence. It was just a mere form, you
know--simply showing the people that Saint Mark's was still loyal to the
State.

Lorenzo appointed a day and sent word that at a certain hour he would
be pleased to welcome the Prior, and congratulate him upon his
elevation. At the same time the Prior was expected to say mass in the
private chapel of the governor, and bestow his blessing upon the House
of the Medici.

But Savonarola treated the invitation to call with disdain, and turned
the messengers of Lorenzo away with scant courtesy. Instead of joining
hands with Lorenzo he preached a sermon at the Cathedral, bitterly
arraigning the aristocracy, prophesying their speedy downfall, and
beseeching all men who wished to be saved to turn, repent, make
restitution and secure the pardon of God, ere it was too late. The
sermon shook the city, and other addresses of the same tenor followed
daily. It was a "revival," of the good old Methodist kind--and religious
emotion drifting into frenzy is ol