It was near mid-day, and since the early morning there had been a gradual swarming2 of the people at every coign of vantage or disadvantage offered by the facades3 and roofs of the houses, and such spaces of the pavement as were free to the public. Men were seated on iron rods that made a sharp angle with the rising wall, were clutching slim pillars with arms and legs, were astride on the necks of the rough statuary that here and there surmounted4 the entrances of the grander houses, were finding a palm’s-breadth of seat on a bit of architrave, and a footing on the rough projections5 of the rustic6 stonework, while they clutched the strong iron rings or staples7 driven into the walls beside them.
For they were come to see a Miracle: cramped8 limbs and abraded9 flesh seemed slight inconveniences with that prospect10 close at hand. It is the ordinary lot of mankind to hear of miracles, and more or less to believe in them; but now the Florentines were going to see one. At the very least they would see half a miracle; for if the monk11 did not come whole out of the fire, they would see him enter it, and infer that he was burned in the middle.
There could be no reasonable doubt, it seemed, that the fire would be kindled12, and that the monks13 would enter it. For there, before their eyes, was the long platform, eight feet broad, and twenty yards long, with a grove14 of fuel heaped up terribly, great branches of dry oak as a foundation, crackling thorns above, and well-anointed tow and rags, known to make fine flames in Florentine illuminations. The platform began at the corner of the marble terrace in front of the Old Palace, close to Marzocco, the stone lion, whose aged15 visage looked frowningly along the grove of fuel that stretched obliquely16 across the Piazza.
Besides that, there were three large bodies of armed men: five hundred hired soldiers of the Signoria stationed before the palace; five hundred Compagnacci under Dolfo Spini, far off on the opposite side of the Piazza; and three hundred armed citizens of another sort, under Marco Salviati, Savonarola’s friend, in front of Orcagna’s Loggia, where the Franciscans and Dominicans were to be placed with their champions.
Here had been much expense of money and labour, and high dignities were concerned. There could be no reasonable doubt that something great was about to happen; and it would certainly be a great thing if the two monks were simply burned, for in that case too God would have spoken, and said very plainly that Fra Girolamo was not His prophet.
And there was not much longer to wait, for it was now near mid-day. Half the monks were already at their post, and that half of the Loggia that lies towards the Palace was already filled with grey mantles17; but the other half, dividcd off by boards, was still empty of everything except a small altar. The Franciscans had entered and taken their places in silence. But now, at the other side of the Piazza was heard loud chanting from two hundred voices, and there was general satisfaction, if not in the chanting, at least in the evidence that the Dominicans were come. That loud chanting repetition of the prayer, ‘Let God arise, and let His enemies be scattered18,’ was unpleasantly suggestive to some impartial19 ears of a desire to vaunt confidence and excite dismay; and so was the flame-coloured velvet20 cope in which Fra Domenico was arrayed as he headed the procession, cross in hand, his simple mind really exalted21 with faith, and with the genuine intention to enter the flames for the glory of God and Fra Girolamo. Behind him came Savonarola in the white vestment of a priest, carrying in his hands a vessel22 containing the consecrated23 Host. He, too, was chanting loudly; he, too, looked firm and confident, and as all eyes were turned eagerly on him, either in anxiety, curiosity, or malignity24, from the moment when he entered the Piazza till he mounted the steps of the Loggia and deposited the Sacrament on the altar, there was an intensifying25 flash and energy in his countenance27 responding to that scrutiny28.
We are so made, almost all of us, that the false seeming which we have thought of with painful shrinking when beforehand in our solitude29 it has urged itself on us as a necessity, will possess our muscles and move our lips as if nothing but that were easy when once we have come under the stimulus30 of expectant eyes and ears. And the strength of that stimulus to Savonarola can hardly be measured by the experience of ordinary lives. Perhaps no man has ever had a mighty31 influence over his fellows without having the innate32 need to dominate, and this need usually becomes the more imperious in proportion as the complications of life make Self inseparable from a purpose which is not selfish. In this way it came to pass that on the day of the Trial by Fire, the doubleness which is the pressing temptation in every public career, whether of priest, orator33, or statesman, was more strongly defined in Savonarola’s consciousness as the acting34 of a part, than at any other period in his life. He was struggling not against impending35 martyrdom, but against impending ruin.
Therefore he looked and acted as if he were thoroughly36 confident, when all the while foreboding was pressing with leaden weight on his heart, not only because of the probable issues of this trial, but because of another event already past — an event which was spreading a sunny satisfaction through the mind of a man who was looking down at the passion-worn prophet from a window of the Old Palace. It was a common turning-point towards which those widely-sundered lives had been converging37, that two evenings ago the news had come that the Florentine courier of the Ten had been arrested and robbed of all his despatches, so that Savonarola’s letter was already in the hands of the Duke of Milan, and would soon be in the hands of the Pope, not only heightening rage, but giving a new justification38 to extreme measures. There was no malignity in Tito Melema’s satisfaction: it was the mild self-gratulation of a man who has won a game that has employed hypothetic skill, not a game that has stirred the muscles and heated the blood. Of course that bundle of desires and contrivances called human nature, when moulded into the form of a plain-featured Frate Predicatore, more or less of an impostor, could not be a pathetic object to a brilliant-minded scholar who understood everything. Yet this tonsured39 Girolamo with the high nose and large under lip was an immensely clever Frate, mixing with his absurd superstitions40 or fabrications very remarkable41 notions about government: no babbler, but a man who could keep his secrets. Tito had no more spite against him than against Saint Dominic. On the contrary, Fra Girolamo’s existence had been highly convenient to Tito Melema, furnishing him with that round of the ladder from which he was about to leap on to a new and smooth footing very much to his heart’s content. And everything now was in forward preparation for that leap: let one more sun rise and set, and Tito hoped to quit Florence. He had been so industrious42 that he felt at full leisure to amuse himself with to-day’s comedy, which the thick-headed Dolfo Spini could never have brought about but for him.
Not yet did the loud chanting cease, but rather swelled43 to a deafcning roar, being taken up in all parts of the Piazza by the Piagnoni, who carried their little red crosses as a badge, and, most of them, chanted the prayer for the confusion of God’s enemies with the expectation of an answer to be given through the medium of a more signal personage than Fra Domenico. This good Frate in his flame-coloured cope was now kneeling before the little altar on which the Sacrament was deposited, awaiting his summons.
On the Franciscan side of the Loggia there was no chanting and no flame-colour: only silence and greyness. But there was this counterbalancing difference, that the Franciscans had two champions: a certain Fra Giuliano was to pair with Fra Domenico, while the original champion, Fra Francesco, confined his challenge to Savonarola.
‘Surely,’ thought the men perched uneasily on the rods and pillars, ‘all must be ready now. This chanting might stop, and we should see better when the Frati are moving towards the platform.’
But the Frati were not to be seen moving yet. Pale Franciscan faces were looking uneasily over the boarding at that flame-coloured cope. It had an evil look and might be enchanted44, so that a false miracle would be wrought45 by magic. Your monk may come whole out of the fire, and yet it may be the work of the devil.
And now there was passing to and fro between the Loggia and the marble terrace of the Palazzo, and the roar of chanting became a little quieter, for every one at a distance was beginning to watch more eagerly. But it soon appeared that the new movement was not a beginning, but an obstacle to beginning. The dignified46 Florentines appointed to preside over this affair as moderators on each side, went in and out of the Palace, and there was much debate with the Franciscans. But at last it was clear that Fra Domenico, conspicuous47 in his flame-colour, was being fetched towards the Palace. Probably the fire had already been kindled — it was difficult to see at a distance — and the miracle was going to begin.
Not at all. The flame-coloured cope disappeared within the Palace; then another Dominican was fetched away — and for a long while everything went on as before — the tiresome48 chanting, which was not miraculous49, and Fra Girolamo in his white vestment standing50 just in the same place. But at last something happened: Fra Domenico was seen coming out of the Palace again, and returning to his brethren. He had changed all his clothes with a brother monk, but he was guarded on each flank by a Franciscan, lest coming into the vicinity of Savonarola he should be enchanted again.
‘Ah, then,’ thought the distant spectators, a little less conscious of cramped limbs and hunger, ‘Fra Domenico is not going to enter the fire. It is Fra Girolamo who offers himself after all. We shall see him move presently, and if he comes out of the flames we shall have a fine view of him!’
But Fra Girolamo did not move, except with the ordinary action accompanying speech. The speech was bold and firm, perhaps somewhat ironically remonstrant, like that of Elijah to the priests of Baal,5 demanding the cessation of these trivial delays. But speech is the most irritating kind of argument for those who are out of hearing, cramped in the limbs, and empty in the stomach. And what need was there for speech? If the miracle did not begin, it could be no one’s fault but Fra Girolamo’s, who might put an end to all difficulties by offering himself now the fire was ready, as he had been forward enough to do when there was no fuel in sight.
More movement to and fro, more discussion; and the afternoon seemed to be slipping away all the faster because the clouds had gathered, and changed the light on everything, and sent a chill through the spectators, hungry in mind and body.
No, it was the crucifix which Fra Domenico wanted to carry into the fire and must not be allowed to profane51 in that manner. After some little resistance Savonarola gave way to this objection, and thus had the advantage of making one more concession52; but he immcdiately placed in Fra Domenico’s hands the vessel containing the consecrated Host. The idea that the presence of the sacred Mystery might in the worst extremity53 avert54 the ordinary effects of fire hovered55 in his mind as a possibility; but the issue on which he counted was of a more positive kind. In taking up the Host he said quietly, as if he were only doing what had been presupposed from the first —
‘Since they are not willing that you should enter with the crucifix, my brother, enter simply with the Sacrament.’
New horror in the Franciscans; new firmness in Savonarola. ‘It was impious presumption56 to carry the Sacrament into the fire: if it were burned the scandal would be great in the minds of the weak and ignorant.’ ‘Not at all: even if it were burned, the Accidents only would be consumed, the Substance would remain.’ Here was a question that might be argued till set of sun and remain as elastic57 as ever; and no one could propose settling it by proceeding58 to the trial, since it was essentially59 a preliminary question. It was only necessary that both sides should remain firm — that the Franciscans should persist in not permitting the Host to be carried into the fire, and that Fra Domenico should persist in refusing to enter without it.
Meanwhile the clouds were getting darker, the air chiller. Even the chanting was missed now it had given way to inaudible argument; and the confused sounds of talk from all points of the Piazza, showing that expectation was everywhere relaxing, contributed to the irritating presentiment60 that nothing decisive would be done. Here and there a dropping shout was heard; then, more frequent shouts in a rising scale of scorn.
‘Light the fire and drive them in!’ ‘Let us have a smell of roast — we want our dinner!’ ‘Come Prophet, let us know whether anything is to happen before the twenty-four hours are over!’ ‘Yes, yes, what’s your last vision?’ ‘Oh, he’s got a dozen in his inside; they’re the small change for a miracle! ’ ‘Ola, Frate, where are you? Never mind wasting the fuel!’
Still the same movement to and fro between the Loggia and the Palace; still the same debate, slow and unintelligible61 to the multitude as the colloquies62 of insects that touch antennae63 to no other apparent effect than that of going and coming. But an interpretation64 was not long wanting to unheard debates in which Fra Girolamo was constantly a speaker: it was he who was hindering the trial; everybody was appealing to him now, and he was hanging back.
Soon the shouts ceased to be distinguishable, and were lost in an uproar65 not simply of voices, but of clashing metal and trampling66 feet. The suggestions of the irritated people had stimulated67 old impulses in Dolfo Spini and his band of Compagnacci; it seemed an opportunity not to be lost for putting an end to Florentine difficulties by getting possession of the arch-hypocrite’s person — and there was a vigorous rush of the armed men towards the Loggia, thrusting the people aside, or driving them on to the file of soldiery stationed in front of the Palace. At this movement, everything was suspended both with monks and embarrassed magistrates68 except the palpitating watch to see what would come of the struggle.
But the Loggia was well guarded by the band under the brave Salviati; the soldiers of the Signoria assisted in the repulse69; and the trampling and rushing were all backward again towards the Tetto de’ Pisani, when the blackness of the heavens seemed to intensify26 in this moment of utter confusion; and the rain, which had already been felt in scattered drops, began to fall with rapidly growing violence, wetting the fuel, and running in streams off the platform, wetting the weary hungry people to the skin, and driving every man’s disgust and rage inwards to ferment70 there in the damp darkness.
Everybody knew now that the Trial by Fire was not to happen. The Signoria was doubtless glad of the rain, as an obvious reason, better than any pretext71, for declaring that both parties might go home. It was the issue which Savonarola had expected and desired; yet it would be an ill description of what he felt to say that he was glad. As that rain fell, and plashed on the edge of the Loggia, and sent spray over the altar and all garments and faces, the Frate knew that the demand for him to enter the fire was at an end. But he knew too, with a certainty as irresistible72 as the damp chill that had taken possession of his frame, that the design of his enemies was fulfilled, and that his honour was not saved. He knew that he should have to make his way to San Marco again through the enraged73 crowd, and that the hearts of many friends who would once have defended him with their lives would now be turned against him.
When the rain had ceased he asked for a guard from the Signoria, and it was given him. Had he said that he was willing to die for the work of his life? Yes, and he had not spoken falsely. But to die in dishonour74 — held up to scorn as a hypocrite and a false prophet? ‘O God! that is not martyrdom! It is the blotting75 out of a life that has been a protest against wrong. Let me die because of the worth that is in me, not because of my weakness.’
The rain had ceased, and the light from the breaking clouds fell on Savonarola as he left the Loggia in the midst of his guard, walking as he had come, with the Sacrament in his hand. But there seemed no glory in the light that fell on him now, no smile of heaven: it was only that light which shines on, patiently and impartially76, justifying77 or condemning78 by simply showing all things in the slow history of their ripening79. He heard no blessing80, no tones of pity, but only taunts81 and threats. He knew this was a foretaste of coming bitterness; yet his courage mounted under all moral attack, and he showed no sign of dismay.
‘Well parried, Frate!’ said Tito, as Savonarola descended82 the steps of the Loggia. ‘But I fear your career at Florence is ended. What say you, my Niccolo?’
‘It is a pity his falsehoods were not all of a wise sort,’ said Macchiavelli, with a melancholy83 shrug84. ‘With the times so much on his side as they are about Church affairs, he might have done something great.’
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1
piazza
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| n.广场；走廊 | |
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2
swarming
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| 密集( swarm的现在分词 )； 云集； 成群地移动； 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
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3
facades
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| n.（房屋的）正面( facade的名词复数 )；假象，外观 | |
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4
surmounted
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| 战胜( surmount的过去式和过去分词 )； 克服（困难）； 居于…之上； 在…顶上 | |
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5
projections
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| 预测( projection的名词复数 )； 投影； 投掷； 突起物 | |
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rustic
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| adj.乡村的，有乡村特色的；n.乡下人，乡巴佬 | |
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7
staples
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| n.（某国的）主要产品( staple的名词复数 )；钉书钉；U 形钉；主要部份v.用钉书钉钉住( staple的第三人称单数 ) | |
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8
cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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abraded
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| adj.[医]刮擦的v.刮擦( abrade的过去式和过去分词 )；（在精神方面）折磨（人）；消磨（意志、精神等）；使精疲力尽 | |
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10
prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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11
monk
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| n.和尚，僧侣，修道士 | |
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kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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13
monks
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| n.修道士，僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
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14
grove
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| n.林子，小树林，园林 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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obliquely
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| adv.斜； 倾斜； 间接； 不光明正大 | |
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mantles
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| vt.&vi.覆盖（mantle的第三人称单数形式） | |
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scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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exalted
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| adj.(地位等)高的，崇高的；尊贵的，高尚的 | |
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vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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consecrated
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| adj.神圣的，被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣，给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 )；奉献 | |
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24
malignity
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| n.极度的恶意，恶毒；（病的）恶性 | |
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intensifying
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| v.（使）增强， （使）加剧( intensify的现在分词 )；增辉 | |
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intensify
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| vt.加强；变强；加剧 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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scrutiny
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| n.详细检查，仔细观察 | |
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solitude
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| n. 孤独; 独居,荒僻之地,幽静的地方 | |
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stimulus
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| n.刺激，刺激物，促进因素，引起兴奋的事物 | |
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mighty
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| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
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innate
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| adj.天生的，固有的，天赋的 | |
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orator
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| n.演说者，演讲者，雄辩家 | |
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acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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impending
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| a.imminent, about to come or happen | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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37
converging
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| adj.收敛[缩]的，会聚的，趋同的v.（线条、运动的物体等）会于一点( converge的现在分词 )；（趋于）相似或相同；人或车辆汇集；聚集 | |
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38
justification
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| n.正当的理由；辩解的理由 | |
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39
tonsured
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| v.剃( tonsure的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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40
superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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42
industrious
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| adj.勤劳的，刻苦的，奋发的 | |
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43
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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44
enchanted
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| adj. 被施魔法的，陶醉的，入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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45
wrought
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| v.引起；以…原料制作；运转；adj.制造的 | |
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46
dignified
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| a.可敬的，高贵的 | |
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47
conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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48
tiresome
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| adj.令人疲劳的，令人厌倦的 | |
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49
miraculous
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| adj.像奇迹一样的，不可思议的 | |
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50
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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51
profane
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| adj.亵神的，亵渎的；vt.亵渎，玷污 | |
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52
concession
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| n.让步，妥协；特许(权) | |
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53
extremity
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| n.末端，尽头；尽力；终极；极度 | |
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54
avert
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| v.防止，避免；转移(目光、注意力等) | |
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55
hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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56
presumption
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| n.推测，可能性，冒昧，放肆，[法律]推定 | |
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elastic
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| n.橡皮圈，松紧带；adj.有弹性的；灵活的 | |
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58
proceeding
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| n.行动，进行，(pl.)会议录，学报 | |
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59
essentially
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| adv.本质上，实质上，基本上 | |
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presentiment
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| n.预感，预觉 | |
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61
unintelligible
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| adj.无法了解的，难解的，莫明其妙的 | |
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colloquies
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| n.谈话，对话( colloquy的名词复数 ) | |
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antennae
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| n.天线；触角 | |
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interpretation
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| n.解释，说明，描述；艺术处理 | |
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uproar
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| n.骚动，喧嚣，鼎沸 | |
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66
trampling
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| 踩( trample的现在分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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stimulated
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| a.刺激的 | |
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68
magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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repulse
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| n.击退，拒绝；vt.逐退，击退，拒绝 | |
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ferment
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| vt.使发酵；n./vt.（使）激动，（使）动乱 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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enraged
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| 使暴怒( enrage的过去式和过去分词 )； 歜； 激愤 | |
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dishonour
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| n./vt.拒付（支票、汇票、票据等）；vt.凌辱，使丢脸；n.不名誉，耻辱，不光彩 | |
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75
blotting
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| 吸墨水纸 | |
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impartially
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| adv.公平地，无私地 | |
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justifying
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| 证明…有理( justify的现在分词 )； 为…辩护； 对…作出解释； 为…辩解（或辩护） | |
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condemning
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| v.（通常因道义上的原因而）谴责( condemn的现在分词 )；宣判；宣布…不能使用；迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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ripening
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| v.成熟，使熟( ripen的现在分词 )；熟化；熟成 | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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taunts
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| 嘲弄的言语，嘲笑，奚落( taunt的名词复数 ) | |
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82
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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melancholy
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| n.忧郁，愁思；adj.令人感伤（沮丧）的，忧郁的 | |
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shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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