Nevertheless, in the midst of this general excitement, men’s minds were daunted by an equally general feeling of uncertainty and distrust.  It was true that the Medici had left no soldiers in Florence, and that the people could at any moment make themselves masters of the whole city; but they knew not whom to trust, nor whom to choose as their leader.  The old champions of liberty had nearly all perished during the last sixty years, either at the block or in persecution and exile.  The few men at all familiar with state affairs were those who had always basked in the favor of the Medici; and the multitude just freed from slavery would inevitably recur to license if left to themselves.  This, therefore, was one of those terrible moments when no one could foretell what excesses and what atrocities might not be committed.  All day the people streamed aimlessly through the streets, like an impetuous torrent; they cast covetous glances on the houses of the citizens who had amassed wealth by acts of oppression; but they had no one to lead them; only, at the hour of Savonarola’s sermon, they all flocked instinctively to the Duomo.  Never had so dense a throng been gathered within its walls; all were too closely packed to be able to move; and when at last Savonarola mounted the pulpit he looked down upon a solid and motionless mass of upturned faces.  Unusual sternness and excitement were depicted on every countenance, and he could see steel corselets flashing here and there in the cloaked crowd.

The friar was now the only man having any influence over the people, who seemed to hang on his words and look for safety to him alone.  One hasty word from his mouth would have sufficed to cause all the houses of the principal citizens to be sacked, to revive past scenes of civil warfare, and lead to torrents of blood.  For the people had been cruelly trampled on, and were now panting for a cruel revenge.  He therefore carefully abstained from all allusion to politics; his heart was overflowing with pity; he bent forward with outstretched arms from the pulpit, and, in tones which echoed throughout the building, proclaimed the law of peace and charity and union.

“Behold the sword has come upon you, the prophecies are fulfilled, the scourges begun!  Behold! these hosts are led by the Lord!  O Florence! the time of singing and dancing is at an end; now is the time to shed floods of tears for thy sins.  Thy sins, O Florence! thy sins, O Rome! thy sins, O Italy!  They have brought these chastisements upon thee!  Repent ye, then; give alms, offer up prayers, be united!  O my people!  I have long been as thy father; I have labored all the days of my life to teach ye the truths of faith and of godly living, yet have I received naught but tribulation, scorn, and contumely; give me at least the consolation of seeing ye do good deeds!  My people, what desire hath ever been mine but to see ye saved, to see ye united?  ’Repent ye, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!’ But I have said this so many times, I have cried to ye so many times; I have wept for thee, O Florence! so many times, that it should be enough.  To thee I turn, O Lord, to thee, who didst die for love of us and for our sins; forgive, forgive, O Lord, the Florentine people, that would fain be thy people.”