25
SAVONAROLA WAS KNEELING in his cell, lost in prayer, when the officials from the Signoria, led by Ser Ceccone, burst through the door on 22 May 1498 to inform him that he had been condemned to death. The condemned man offered no reply and simply returned to his devotions – without even asking what form his execution was to take.
The two who had been condemned to die with him reacted very differently. Both had been aware that they faced death, yet only the saintly Fra Domenico had already taken anticipatory steps. He had written a letter to the Dominican monks at the monastery of Fiesole, of which he was prior, bidding his community a heartfelt farewell. Yet despite his utter reliance upon faith, he also knew when and how to take practical action. In his letter, he instructed his monks to:
Collect up from my cell all the writings of Fra Girolamo that are to be found there, have them bound into a book, and place a copy of this in our library. Also place another copy in the refectory, chained to the table, where it can be read aloud at mealtimes, and so that the lay brethren who serve can also read it amongst themselves.1
This letter must have been smuggled out by one of the few allowed to visit the condemned men in their cells, for surprisingly it reached its intended recipients. Even though Fra Domenico’s life had not been spared, ‘Savonarola’s doctrine [would be] preserved’, just as the Pratica had feared and wished to prevent.
Fra Silvestro, on the other hand, was overcome with terror when the verdict was read out to him. Inconsolably, he begged to be allowed to put his case before the citizens of Florence, who he felt sure would grant him mercy on account of his reputation for living a life of blameless spirituality.
The three condemned monks, in their separate cells, were now each joined by a member of the Compagni de’ Neri, the black-robed, black-cowled brotherhood who traditionally spent the final hours with those who had been condemned to death. Jacopo Niccolini was the brother who had been assigned to Savonarola by the Signoria, because of his well-known lack of sympathy with the Piagnoni. Despite this, Niccolini seems to have been deeply impressed by Savonarola from the moment they met, finding his composure under such circumstances nothing less than a spiritual inspiration. When Savonarola asked Niccolini if he could use his influence to secure a final meeting between the three condemned monks, so that he could pass on to them words of advice to help them face their ordeal, Niccolini readily agreed. Surprisingly, he even managed to persuade the Signoria to allow such a meeting to take place, under suitable supervision. Ironically, the three were brought together in the hall of the Great Council, which Savonarola had done so much to establish as the democratic heart of the government of the Florentine republic.
The three monks had not set eyes on each other since the night of the siege of San Marco on 8 April. During the ensuing six weeks they had each been separately interrogated and tortured – an ordeal that had broken Savonarola temporarily, Fra Silvestro permanently, but had not succeeded on Fra Domenico. Even so, they had each been informed by their interrogators that the other two had confessed to heresy, charlatanism, false prophecy and misleading the people. Savonarola was said to have confessed that he was not a prophet, had never seen any visions and had not spoken with the voice of God. His companions had certainly not been informed that he had later recanted these confessions, claiming that they had only been induced by the prospect of unbearable torture.
The three of them cannot have known what to believe of each other. Understanding that their meeting would necessarily be brief, Savonarola immediately took charge of the proceedings. Turning to the faithful Fra Domenico, he said:
I hear that you have requested to be cast into the fire alive. This is wrong, for it is not for us to choose the manner of our death. We must accept willingly the fate which God has assigned for us.2
He then turned to the pitiful Fra Silvestro, telling him sternly:
In your case, I know that you wish to proclaim your innocence before the people. But I order you to put away all thought of this idea, and instead to follow the example of Our Lord Jesus Christ, who refrained from protesting his innocence, even when he was on the cross. We must do likewise, because his is the example which we must follow.
The two friars then knelt before their superior, Savonarola, and he gave them his blessing. Savonarola was assisted back to his cell – being in leg irons, with his body in such a broken state, he was barely able to walk on his own.
Describing Savonarola in his cell during the time that followed, Ridolfi wrote, ‘The account of his last hours is like a page from the lives of the Church Fathers.’3 fn1 The pro-Savonarolan Burlamacchi recounts an incident that became part of the Savonarola legend.fn2 Villari paraphrases this:
It was already well into the early hours by the time he returned to his prison cell. By this stage he was so beset with drowsiness and exhaustion that in a gesture of affection and gratitude he rested his head on Niccolini’s lap, lapsing almost immediately into a light sleep, and such was the serenity of his spirit that he seemed to smile as if seeing pleasant visions in his dreams.4
When Savonarola awoke, he appears to have been surprised that he had fallen asleep. In a gesture of gratitude towards his compassionate companion, he is said to have vouchsafed him a prophecy that there would come a time in the future when Florence would find itself overwhelmed with a disastrous calamity. ‘Remember this carefully,’ he told Niccolini. ‘These things will come to pass when there is a pope by the name of Clement.’ Just such events would occur in 1529, when Florence would be subjected to the prolonged privations of a ten-month siege, before capitulating; all this would take place during the reign of Pope Clement VII. Even one of Savonarola’s most informed and sympathetic biographers, Pasquale Villari, is driven to suggest that the details of this prophecy ‘do not seem credible’,5 adding: ‘We must assume that unless the name Clement was inserted at a later date by devout believers in the friar, this can only be regarded as a fortuitous coincidence.’
At daybreak on 23 May the three condemned men were led from their cells and assembled together once more. Their wrists were manacled, but they were no longer in leg irons, enabling them to stumble down the steps inside the Palazzo della Signoria and out into the piazza. According to Guicciardini:
A multitude of people came to witness Savonarola’s degradation and execution, every bit as as large as the one that had congregated in the same place on the day set for the ordeal by fire, hoping to witness the miracle they had been promised.6
On the raised stone terrace outside the palazzo were formally assembled three separate tribunals, each of which would play its part in the ensuing protracted solemn rituals – according to one contemporary ‘the ceremonies lasted for the space of two long hours’,7beginning at eight and continuing until around ten in the morning.
The first tribunal was led by Benedetto Pagagnotti, Bishop of Vasona, a former friar of San Marco and ironically once a firm believer in Savonarola. Pagagnotti had been commissioned by Alexander VI to read out the papal Brief formally degrading the three friars, publicly stripping them of the priesthood. This Brief had in fact been dispatched to Pagagnotti before the two Papal Commissioners had even left Rome – an unmistakable indication of precisely what Alexander VI had in mind for Savonarola and his two fellow friars. Pagagnotti was so discomfited when he faced Savonarola that he felt unable to look him in the face and stumbled over the words of the formal declaration, declaring at one point: ‘I separate you from the Church militant and from the Church triumphant.’8 fn3 Ever the theologian, Savonarola corrected him at this point: ‘Only from the Church militant; the other is not within your jurisdiction.’ Pagagnotti hurriedly corrected himself. Landucci recorded how ‘They were robed in all their vestments, and each of these was taken off them one by one, with the appropriate words for the degradation.’9
The second tribunal was led by Bishop Remolino, who then performed a ceremony exposing still further the duplicity of Alexander VI. Prior to the Papal Commissioners arriving at their judgement, and probably even prior to them setting out from Rome, His Holiness had issued Remolino with a Brief bestowing upon the three friars the pope’s plenary indulgence. This granted them a formal pardon for all sins committed in this world, absolving them from punishment in purgatory in the next world. With this act of supreme papal hypocrisy completed, Remolino then formally handed over the three defrocked friars to the secular authorities within whose jurisdiction they now fell. This was the third tribunal, consisting of the Signoria, ‘who immediately made the decision that they should be hanged and burnt … then their faces and hands were shaved, as is customary in this ceremony.’fn4
The three condemned men, barefoot and clad only in their thin white undershifts, were then led from the terrace in front of the palazzo by two black-robed Compagni de’ Neri, who accompanied them along the lengthy raised walkway that extended out into the piazza. At the end of this walkway was the circular platform with the gibbet, beneath which were heaped bundles of faggots and kindling wood in preparation for the bonfire. From the sea of faces beneath them on either side of the walkway arose angry jeers, and some mockingly called out, ‘Savonarola, now is the time to perform a miracle.’10 Evidence suggests that others, especially amongst the Piagnoni, were silently praying that he would do just this and would survive his execution.
The first to be led to the scaffold was Fra Silvestro. The hangman hurriedly ushered the condemned man up the steps to the top of the ladder leaning against the gibbet, placed the rope around his neck and then shoved him off the ladder so that he swung freely from the gibbet. The rope was too short, the noose not drawn tightly enough around his neck, and the iron chains wound around the condemned man’s waist to weigh him down were insufficiently heavy, so that the hanging man remained choking. Landucci, who witnessed these events, described Fra Silvestro’s fate: ‘there not being much of a drop, he suffered for some time, repeating “Jesu” again and again while he was hanging there, for the rope was not drawn tight enough to kill him’.11 All this was intentional, so that the other two could be hanged beside him, and all three would still be alive when the fire was lit beneath them. Part of their punishment was that they would be able to feel the pain of the flames burning their flesh before they died.
The second to be hanged was Fra Domenico, who is said to have literally scampered up the ladder with a joyous expression on his face, ready to meet his maker. According to Landucci, he ‘also kept saying “Jesu”’ as he endured his similarly lengthy strangulation. Finally:
the third was Savonarola, named as a heretic, who did not speak aloud, but to himself, and thus he was hanged. This all took place without final words being declaimed by any one of them. This was considered extraordinary, especially by good and thoughtful people, who were greatly disappointed, for everyone had been expecting some signs, and desired the glory of God, the beginning of the righteous life, the renovation of the Church, and the conversion of unbelievers. Yet not one of the condemned made any justification of their acts. As a result, many lost their faith.
Despite this disappointment, Guicciardini’s description makes it plain that some people still had misgivings. He recorded that Savonarola’s death:
which he suffered with unyielding fortitude without uttering a word either claiming his innocence or confessing his guilt. None of this altered anyone’s opinion – either for or against him, or the strength of their feelings on this matter. Many viewed him as a charlatan; whilst on the other hand many were of the opinion that his public confession was simply a forgery … or that it had been falsely extracted from him after his frail body had been broken by the extremities of torture.12
The execution did not end entirely without unexpected incident. Mention was made of the hangman sadistically jerking the rope around Savonarola’s neck, causing his body to dance in the air and attempting to make a mockery of him before the crowd. Presumably it was this buffoonery which meant that the hangman was personally unable to complete the gruesome ceremony as intended. On the evidence of the paintings of this scene, the ladder leading to the top of the gibbet must have reached up well over twenty feet; however, before the executioner could descend the ladder to complete his task, a spectator had beaten him to it. A man with a lighted torch burst forward out of the surrounding crowd and set fire to the brushwood, yelling, ‘Now at last I can burn the Friar who would have liked to burn me!’13
As the fire quickly spread through the dried kindling on the circular platform around the cross, others in the front of the crowd began tossing little packets of gunpowder into the conflagration, causing small explosions and cascades of sparks. Just as the flames began to leap up into the air towards the hanging figures, a sudden wind blew up, forcing the flames away from their bodies. The crowd immediately began to back away from the fire exclaiming, ‘A miracle! A miracle!’14 Yet the wind eventually dropped as suddenly as it had begun, and the crowd surged forward once more as the flames began to lick up around the bodies, sheathing them in fire. Burlamacchi, who certainly witnessed these events from a close vantage point, then goes on to describe how the fire burned through the rope securing Savonarola’s hands behind his back, letting his arms fall free. The upward current of the fire then caught his right arm, raising it into the air, his hand opening dramatically, as if from amidst the flames he was blessing those who stood gazing up at him. This caused consternation amongst the many who witnessed it: women began sobbing hysterically, some fell to their knees, believing that they were being blessed by the man whom many had secretly believed to be a saint. Others simply fled from the piazza in fright and panic.
Yet not all were so overcome. The Arrabbiati had been determined to avoid any devotional scenes, and had hired groups of urchins to jeer and dance about the leaping flames. Some flung stones, which hit the dangling bodies being consumed by the flames, causing bits to fall from them down into the roaring heart of the fire. On orders from the Signoria, armed guards now formed a ring around the bonfire, forcing back the crowd, preventing spectators from gathering up any relics that might be removed. They were determined that Savonarola’s execution should not be the beginning of a cult perpetuating his name and religious ideas. At the same time, further bundles of sticks were tossed into the fire, increasing its size and intensity.
The chains wrapped around the bodies were secured to the gibbet and kept them suspended, even as the fire burned through the ropes around their necks. While the flames consumed the bodies and organs of the condemned men, their limbs began to fall into the central inferno, leaving only glimpses of the blackened remains of their ragged torsos visible amidst the increasing conflagration. To make doubly sure that no relics could be obtained, Remolino took it upon himself to order the gibbet itself to be pushed over so that it fell into the fire, crashing down and carrying the blackened bodies with it. Remolino was in this instance acting beyond his jurisdiction: having passed on responsibility for the death-penalty to the civil authorities, these matters were now under the command of the Signoria. However, it seems that all in power were equally determined that Savonarola’s death should put an end to both the man and all he stood for.
By this time the piazza had been cleared, and after the fire had cooled down the ashes were shovelled up into carts. When these had been filled, they were pushed down the street some 200 yards to the nearby Ponte Vecchio, with the official mace-bearers lining either side of the carts to prevent any further attempts to secure relics. Here the cartloads of ashes were unceremoniously dumped into the waters of the Arno, their remnant dust-clouds gradually settling onto the surface, where they were carried off downstream by the current, over the weir and beyond the city walls, through the green Tuscan countryside towards the river mouth, where the waters dispersed into the sea.
fn1 The Church Fathers were the spiritual leaders of the Christian Church during the first five centuries or so after the death of Christ, many of whom lived exemplary lives, some enduring martydom with great spiritual fortitude.
fn2 The main contemporary source for the ensuing events remains the pro-Savonarolan Burlamacchi, whose descriptions, perhaps inevitably, stray at times into hagiography. Yet there were others who left a record of these times. Landucci describes the later events as he saw them. Sources such as Parenti, Nardi and Cerretani also gave descriptions that for the most part tally with the main outline of the facts. Guicciardini, regarded by many as the father of modern history, who grew up in Florence and was fifteen years old at the time, would begin his considered description of these events just ten years later. I have at points made use of all these sources.
fn3 That is, the Church in heaven
fn4 The two earliest printed Italian versions of Landucci (1865 and 1883, both Florence) refer to ‘radendo loro el capo e mano’ – that is, shaving the head and hands – thus specifically including their priestly tonsures.