When Savonarola was finally lowered to the ground, he once again confessed, ‘When I am faced with torture, I lose all mastery over myself.’ He then added, with some relief, ‘When I am in a room with men who treat me properly, then I can express myself with reason.’
Yet it was now that Remolino’s masterly cunning came into play. He knew that Savonarola was in such a state that he was beyond reason. Sensing this, he began firing at him an inconsequential series of loaded questions, in the hope of forcing Savonarola inadvertently to condemn himself. At one point Remolino asked him, ‘Have you ever preached that Jesus Christ was just a man?’
Savonarola replied, ‘Only a fool would ever think such a thing.’ Had he given the wrong answer to this, or even a muddled reply, he could have been charged with heresy.fn3
Other dangerous questions followed. Remolino asked, ‘Do you believe in magic charms?’
Savanorola was just able to reply, ‘I have always derided such nonsense.’ And somehow he managed to hold his ground.
On the second day of questioning, when Savonarola was seemingly capable of giving more coherent replies, Remolino turned in more detail to a matter that he had touched upon during the first day – a matter whose facts were of most interest to his master Alexander VI. Under the threat of further administration of the strappado, Remolino probed Savonarola with questions about the Council of the Church, which he had unsuccessfully attempted to summon in order to depose the pope. But Remolino soon realised that Savonarola could only tell him what he already knew. All the Italian leaders remained against Florence, and none had dared to commit to any move against Alexander VI. Remolino demanded to know which cardinals had been in favour of the council, but once again Savonarola’s answers accorded with Alexander VI’s intelligence. All had been wary of any such move. Yet Alexander VI evidently retained his suspicions, for Remolino pressed Savonarola again and again about Cardinal Caraffa of Naples, who had played such a crucial role in obtaining for Savonarola the establishment of an independent Tuscan Congregation. However, even after further application of the strappado, Savonarola continued to insist, ‘I did not make any contact with the Cardinal of Naples concerning the Council.’
Remolino reluctantly concluded that he would be able to collect no further information on this matter and soon ended the day’s interrogation, indicating that he would deliver his verdict the following day.
Even while Savonarola was still being examined by the Papal Commission, the Signoria summoned a Pratica to discuss Savonarola’s sentence. Despite the overwhelming Arrabbiati majority at this Pratica, the venerable legal expert Agnolo Niccolini, formerly a supporter of Piero de’ Medici, gave his opinion that it would be a crime to execute Savonarola, ‘for history rarely produces such a man as this’.11 Niccolini went on:
This man would not only succeed in restoring faith to the world, should it ever die out, but he would disseminate the vast learning with which he is so richly endowed. For this reason, I advise that he be kept in prison, if you so choose; but spare his life, and grant him the use of writing materials, so that the world may not be deprived of his great works to the glory of God.
But the majority were all for Savonarola’s execution:
because no one can rely upon any future Signoria, as they change every two months. The Friar would almost certainly be released at some stage and once again cause disturbance to the city. A dead man cannot continue to fight for his cause.
In truth, the authorities remained seriously afraid of Savonarola and his remaining followers. Savonarola’s modern biographer Desmond Seward has produced intriguing evidence of such fears from the contemporary journal written by Sandro Botticelli’s brother Simone Filipepi. This records how, some eighteen months later, Doffo Spini, the notorious leader of the Compagnacci, happened to call late one winter’s night at Botticelli’s studio. As they sat before the fire, Botticelli began questioning Spini about Savonarola’s trials, which he knew Spini had attended. Spini confided to him, ‘Sandro, do you want me to tell you the truth? We never found anything that he had done wrong, neither mortal sin, nor venial.’12 According to Spini, if they had spared Savonarola and his two fellow friars, and allowed them to return to San Marco, ‘the people would have turned on us, stuffing all of us into sacks and tearing us to pieces. The whole thing had gone too far – we had to do it just to save our own skins.’
On 22 May, Remolino conducted a further brief examination of Savonarola, without even bothering to include his fellow commissioner Torriani. After this, an official message was despatched to Savonarola ordering him to appear the following day, ‘when his trial would be concluded and he would receive his sentence’.13 Savonarola could only reply to the papal messenger, ‘I am in prison; if I am able, I will come.’ Prior to Remolino sending his report to Alexander VI, the Papal Commissioners then met the Florentine authorities to ratify the fate of Savonarola, along with that of Fra Domenico and Fra Francesco, neither of whom the commissioners had even bothered to question. In an attempt to display a modicum of Christian compassion, which all present must surely have recognised as breathtaking hypocrisy, Bishop Remolino suggested that the life of the obdurate but saintly Fra Domenico should be spared. But one of the Florentines reminded Remolino, ‘If this friar is allowed to live, all Savonarola’s doctrines will be preserved.’14 Whereupon Remolino reverted to his true character and replied, ‘One little friar more or less hardly matters; let him die too.’
Bishop Remolino then retired to compile his report to Alexander VI. This incorporated Savonarola’s confessions from Ser Ceccone’s transcript without any regard for consistency, including all its farcically inaccurate details, obvious forgeries, insertions, lies and exaggerations. ‘He confesses to inciting citizens to revolt, to deliberately causing shortages of food which caused many of the poor to starve to death, and to murdering important citizens …’,15 and so forth. Not surprisingly, Remolino reported in the strongest possible terms Savonarola’s confession concerning his attempt to summon a Council of the Church, and how:
He sent letters and communications to many Christian princes, urging them to defy your Holiness and to create a schism in the Church. Such was the depth of iniquity and evil in this dissimulating monster that all his outward appearance of goodness was nothing more than a charade.
At this, Remolino’s imagination appeared to fail him, and he chose instead to protect the sensibilities of his Borgia master from the truth of Savonarola’s wickedness: ‘Of such a horrendous nature were his vile crimes that I cannot even bring myself to write them down, let alone pollute my mind with the thought of them.’
The three monks were finally condemned ‘as heretics and schismatics and for having preached new things etc’.16 On the morrow all three of them were to be ‘degraded’ (that is, stripped of their priesthood), whereupon they would be handed over to the appropriate secular authorities for due punishment.
It soon became plain to all that this punishment had already been decided. Landucci wrote of Savonarola’s fate (which was to be shared with his two fellow friars):
22 May. It was decided that he should be condemned to death, and that he should be burnt alive. That evening a scaffold was put up at the end of a walkway which reached into the middle of the Piazza della Signoria … and here was erected a solid piece of wood many braccia high, with a large circular platform around its base. A piece of wood was nailed horizontally near the top of the vertical piece of wood making it look like a cross. But people noticed this, and said: ‘They are going to crucify him.’ And when word of this reached the ears of the authorities, orders were given to saw off part of the wood, so that it would not resemble a cross.17
This was the very spot where, six weeks previously, the ordeal by fire had been due to take place.
fn1 Sometimes referred to as Remolines or Remolins; in Florence, possibly because he had been sent from Rome, he was often called Romolino.
fn2 Latin editions would certainly have reached England long before a
ny English version appeared. The first known English edition, which came out in 1543, was entitled ‘An exposicyon after the maner of a coteplacyo vpon .lj. Psalme called Miserere me De’.6 Such was the demand for this work that it was soon followed by other translations, suggesting that it proved popular amongst upper-class women who were educated to read, but had not been taught Latin, as well as amongst literate, less-educated men, such as merchants, certain guild members and officials. These translations appeared despite England’s separation from the Church of Rome in 1531 – a further indication, if such was needed, of the regard in which this work came to be held by all Christians.
fn3 Believers in the Arian heresy, which caused the most serious split in the ancient Church less than three centuries after the death of Christ, basically declared that Christ was ‘begotten’ – in other words, that he was a man, and not divine.
25
Hanged and Burned
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’,7 beginning 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
Death in Florence: the Medici, Savonarola and the Battle for the Soul of the Renaissance City Page 43
