Then came that tumultuous day of April 7th, the "Sunday of the
Olives," when the Franciscans and Dominicans argued while the fire
burnt out before them, when Savonarola's great spirit quailed within
him, and the ordeal failed; a merciful rain quenching the flames which
none dared to brave save the undaunted Fra Domenico himself.
There was no painting done in the studio on that day we may be sure.
Baccio was one of the surging, conflicting crowd gathered beneath the
mingling shadows of Orcagna's arches and Arnolfo's great palace, and at
eventide he was one of the armed partisans who protected the friar back
to his convent, menaced not only by rains from heaven, but by the
stormy wrath of an angry populace, defrauded of the sight they came to
see.
The next day was the one which determined the painter's future life.
There was in the city a curious process of crystallisation of all the
particles held in solution round the fire the previous day. The Palazzo
Vecchio attracted about its doors the "Arrabiati." The "Compagnacci"
assembled, armed, by the Duomo.
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