No pains were spared to induce criminals about to die to seek reconciliation with Mother Church. An account is preserved of the last days of the “most illustrious and excellent Signor Protomedico Giovanno Tomasini,” during the pontificate of Alexander VII in 1666. Together with a certain Camillo Nicoli, he had committed murder, and they lay under sentence of death in the Carceri Nuovi of Florence. Certain members of the Compagnia della Misericordia, a religious confraternity vowed to good works, were despatched to minister to the condemned men and attend them to the scaffold. Nicoli showed satisfactory signs of repentance, but Tomasini’s heart was “as hard as the nether millstone” and he refused to prepare himself for death. He would not open his lips except to complain of the injustice of his sentence and nothing would move him, neither prayers, exhortations, litanies nor the telling of beads. Tomasini swore he would please himself and go to perdition his own way. The brethren in attendance wrestled with him, wept and kissed his feet, but failed utterly; others replaced them and were equally unsuccessful; the execution was postponed to allow two eloquent Capuchin fathers assisted by two Carmelite friars to effect his conversion. Being still obdurate he was taken to hear mass; the priest who officiated especially addressed himself to Tomasini, but the celebrated physician remained as hardened as ever; he refused to kneel but sat himself astride of the bench and would not even turn his eyes to the altar. At last, exasperated beyond measure, the priests and the monks and brethren of the confraternity, attacked him, hustled him, abused him and hit him with no more result than that of creating a scandal in the Church. The executioner’s assistants then gagged him and placed a rope round his neck, after which he heard another mass and was exorcised as though he had the devil inside him. All at once he heaved a deep sigh, tore the gag from his mouth and recanted his errors, to the immense relief of the members of the confraternity gathered around him. They took him back to the prison to confess and receive the last sacrament, after which he was again brought out, carefully dressed, and marched through the streets, singing a penitential psalm until he arrived at the scaffold.
These confraternities were corporate bodies with both religious and civil functions. Thus the Confraternita della Trinita lodged and fed gratuitously for three days all the pilgrims who came to Rome; the Confraternita della Morte attended to the sick in the vast Agro Romano; the Confraternita di St. Giovanni Decollato devoted itself to prisoners condemned to death; the Santissima Annunziata gave dowries to poor and deserving Roman maidens; the brethren of the Stigmata of St. Francis prostrated themselves to kiss the ground and were therefore called in Roman slang bacia mattoni;[2] those of St. Girolamo della Carita begged alms for the prisoners; the Agonizzanti affixed the placards or tavolozze on the walls which bore the names of malefactors sentenced to death; they besought the prayers of the pious and exposed the sacrament until the last penalty of the law was carried out.
Among the many privileges enjoyed by these confraternities till a much later date was one hardly in accordance with our modern idea of civil justice, “the right of liberating from the galleys, and even from sentence of death, any malefactors other than thieves.” When negotiations had been entered into with the governor of Rome, and the pope’s consent had been gained to the release of the offender, a day was fixed upon for the confraternity to march in solemn procession from its church to the prison, where the criminal was handed over and conducted in triumph round the city, dressed in the attire of the brotherhood and crowned with laurel, as in a Roman triumph. This custom was definitely abolished by Leo XII.
All these liberations, however, cost money, and in time there came to be an official tariff, varying according to the nature of the crime. Thus we read in a report of the Austrian legation that forty scudi sufficed to free a man who had been condemned to the galleys for ten years. The last criminal released by the Compagnia di S. Girolamo was a murderer named Checco sentenced to death in 1824. The company went in solemn procession to fetch him from the Carceri Nuove and conduct him to their church in the Via Monserrato. Here, after assisting at mass, he was arrayed in the habit of the confraternity, crowned with laurel and escorted in another triumphal procession round the church.
Terrible scenes were enacted at executions in those days. The story of the execution of Abbé Rivarola in 1668, found guilty of writing libellous satires, throws into strong relief the mad passions into which the Roman populace were constantly betrayed, and the terrible mental tortures inflicted upon the unhappy victims of the law. The abbé was so overcome by the terrors of the situation that in spite of all that could be done to keep up his courage and all the restoratives that were administered to him during the night preceding his execution, he had hardly strength enough left to be taken in a cart to the fatal place where he was to suffer. He was dragged up on the scaffold by the members of the confraternity in attendance on him, but so limp and powerless had he become that the executioner had the greatest difficulty in adjusting his head upon the block. Even then he must have moved almost unconsciously, for when the string was pulled and the axe fell, it hit the wretched man between the neck and the shoulder. The executioner, seeing what had happened, seized a huge knife and literally hacked off his head, whereupon the bystanders leaped in wild rage upon the scaffold and with shrieks that rent the air seized the clumsy executioner, and would have torn him limb from limb had not the sbirri (policemen) hastened to his rescue. A free fight ensued which was only put an end to by the arrival of soldiers from the castle of St. Angelo. The executioner was flogged round the streets of Rome the following morning, and then exiled from the papal states.
Another gruesome picture of a public execution, at a somewhat later date, is described by an eye-witness in the following words:
“There was a sudden noise of trumpets in an adjoining street which somewhat diverted the attention of the populace, and presently there emerged into the Via Papala, from the Governo Vecchio, a procession headed by the Bargello and his officers and conveying two rogues bound upon asses to the Campo di Fiori, where they were to be exposed in the pillory. An immense mob followed these unhappy wretches, scoffing and sneering at them and pelting them with all manner of horrible refuse. The first criminal looked like a facchino or porter, and was very scantily clothed. His feet were bare and he wore a pair of breeches that barely came below his thighs; on his head he had a cardboard mitre with devils and flames rudely painted upon it; his face was smeared all over with honey, and from his neck hung a card on which was written in large letters his name and these words: ‘Blasphemer of the Holy Name of God.’ A piece of wood was thrust into his mouth and tied behind at the nape of his neck in such a manner that he was obliged to keep his lips wide open and his tongue hanging out. This torture was called the mordacchia. Behind him walked the executioner’s assistant, who administered repeated blows with a heavy whip to the culprit’s back. The face of this latter was livid with pain and rage, and he glanced occasionally over his shoulders at his assailant, with an expression that plainly said: ‘Wait until I am free, and then see what I will do to you!’ ”
Another description comes from the same source:
“On one side of the piazza, between the fountain of Bernini and that of the Calderai there was a little table, on which a Jesuit missionary mounted at intervals and, crucifix in hand, harangued the bystanders, exhorting them to repent of their sins and amend their evil lives,—with very little apparent result, it must be confessed. On the opposite side of the piazza, a platform had been erected on which three criminals, who had been condemned to punishment, were exposed to the gibes and jeers of the public. Each one was bound to a bench and bore round his neck a huge placard upon which was written his name and the misdemeanour for which he suffered. Thus one had been convicted of using false weights and measures; the second of having bought up certain kinds of provisions so as to raise their price; the third of being a pickpocket. But this exhibition, which was intended to serve as a warning to evil-doers, was only an additional amusement for the populace.
“Suddenly the sound of a trumpet was heard and the crowd rushed in the direction whence it proceeded. It was the public crier, who announced that their time of punishment in the pillory being over, the three criminals would further be subjected to the lash. Immediately two inferior officials mounted the platform; laid the culprits face downwards on the bench and bound them to it, while the executioner administered twenty-five strokes to the backs of the two first with a scourge made of strips of skin. The victims screamed and writhed under the lash, but their shrieks were drowned in the applause of the crowd, who gloated over their sufferings in a truly horrible manner. The third, a young man, pale and emaciated-looking, was to receive fifty stripes, the maximum number allowed by law, and which was usually given only to thieves.”