The Prior of St. Mark now appeared in a double light,—­as a political leader and as a popular preacher.  Let us first consider him in his secular aspect, as a revolutionist and statesman,—­for the admirable constitution he had a principal hand in framing entitles him to the dignity of statesman rather than politician.  If his cause had not been good, and if he had not appealed to both enlightened and patriotic sentiments, he would have been a demagogue; for a demagogue and a mere politician are synonymous, and a clerical demagogue is hideous.

Savonarola began his political career with terrible denunciations, from his cathedral pulpit, of the political evils of his day, not merely in Florence but throughout Italy.  He detested tyrants and usurpers, and sought to conserve such liberties as the Florentines had once enjoyed.  He was not only the preacher, he was also the patriot.  Things temporal were mixed up with things spiritual in his discourses.  In his detestation of the tyranny of the Medici, and his zeal to recover for the Florentines their lost liberties, he even hailed the French armies of Charles VIII. as deliverers, although they had crossed the Alps to invade and conquer Italy.  If the gates of Florence were open to them, they would expel the Medici.  So he stimulated the people to league with foreign enemies in order to recover their liberties.  This would have been high treason in Richelieu’s time,—­as when the Huguenots encouraged the invasion of the English on the soil of France.  Savonarola was a zealot, and carried the same spirit into politics that he did into religion,—­such as when he made a bonfire of what he called vanities.  He had an end to carry:  he would use any means.  There is apt to be a spirit of expediency in men consumed with zeal, determined on success.  To the eye of the Florentine reformer, the expulsion of the Medici seemed the supremest necessity; and if it could be done in no other way than by opening the gates of his city to the French invaders, he would open the gates.  Whatever he commanded from the pulpit was done by the people, for he seemed to have supreme control over them, gained by his eloquence as a preacher.  But he did not abuse his power.  When the Medici were expelled, he prevented violence; blood did not flow in the streets; order and law were preserved.  The people looked up to him as their leader, temporal as well as spiritual.  So he assembled them in the great hall of the city, where they formally held a parlemento, and reinstated the ancient magistrates.  But these were men without experience.  They had no capacity to govern, and they were selected without wisdom on the part of the people.  The people, in fact, had not the ability to select their best and wisest men for rulers.  That is an evil inherent in all popular governments.  Does San Francisco or New York send its greatest men to Congress?  Do not our cities elect such rulers as the demagogues point out?  Do not the