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The Pope had been importuned to use his influence to avert the threatened harm to “true religion.” Savonarola should be silenced, said the aristocrats, and that speedily.

A letter came from Pope Alexander, couched in most gentle and gracious words, requesting Savonarola to come to Rome, and there give exhibition of his wondrous gifts.

Savonarola knew that he was dealing with a Borgia–a man who cajoled, bought and bribed, and when these failed there were noose, knife and poison close at hand. The Prior of Saint Mark’s could deal with Lorenzo in Florence, but with Alexander at Rome he would be undone. The iniquities of the Borgia family far exceeded the sins of the Medici, and in his impassioned moments Savonarola had said as much.

At Rome he would have to explain these things–and to explain them would be to repeat them. Alexander stood for nepotism, which is the sugared essence of that time-honored maxim, “To the victor belong the spoils.” The world has never seen so little religion and so much pretense as during the reign of the Borgias.

At this time when offenders were called to Rome, it sometimes happened that they were never again heard from. Beneath the Castle Saint Angelo were dungeons–no records were kept–and the stories told of human bones found in walled-up cells are no idle tales. An iron collar circling the neck of a skeleton that was once a man is a sight these eyes have seen.

Prison records open to the public are a comparatively new thing, and the practise of “doctoring” a record has, until recently, been quite in vogue.

Savonarola acknowledged the receipt of the Pope’s request, but made excuses, and asked for time.

Alexander certainly did all he could to avoid an open rupture with the Prior of Saint Mark’s. He was inwardly pleased when Savonarola affronted the Medici–it was a thing he dared not do–and if the religious revival could be localized and kept within bounds, all would have been well. It had now gone far enough; if continued, and Rome should behold such scenes as Florence had witnessed, the Holy See itself would not be safe.

Alexander accepted the excuses of Savonarola with much courtesy. Soon word came that the Prior of Saint Mark’s was to be made a cardinal, but the gentle hint went with the message that the red hat was to be in the nature of a reward for bringing about peace at Florence.

Peace! Peace! How could there be peace unless Savonarola bowed his head to the rule of the aristocrats?

His sermons were often interrupted–stones were thrown through the windows when he preached. The pulpit where he was to speak had been filled with filth, and the skin of an ass tacked over the sacred desk. Must he go back?

To the offer of the cardinal’s hat he sent this message: “No hat will I have but that of a martyr, reddened with my own blood.”

The tactics of the Pope now changed; he sent an imperative order that Savonarola should present himself at Rome, and give answer to the charges there made against him.

Savonarola silently scorned the message.

The Pope was still patient. He would waive the insult to himself, if Florence would only manage to take care of her own troubles. But importunities kept coming that Savonarola should be silenced–the power of the man had grown until Florence was absolutely under his subjection. Bonfires of pictures, books and statuary condemned by him had been made in the streets; and the idea was carried to Rome that there was danger of the palaces being pillaged. Florence could deal with the man, but would not so long as he was legally a part of the Church.

Then it was that the Pope issued his Bull of Excommunication, and the order removing Savonarola from his office as Prior of Saint Mark’s.

The answer of Savonarola was a sermon in the form of a defiance. He claimed, and rightly, that he was no heretic–no obligations that the Church asked had he ever disregarded, and therefore the Pope had no right to silence him.