The prisoner meantime was kept in uncertainty of his fate, until the night before the day fixed upon for execution, when the officials, entering his cell, informed him that his appeal for mercy had been rejected, and bade him prepare for death the following morning. According to long-established custom, he was allowed the singular boon of selecting whatever he most fancied for his supper; no rarity was denied him; and I remember hearing it announced that he had chosen some particular kind of fish held in great esteem, which was with difficulty procured. This meal over, a confraternity called the _Compagnia della Buona Morte_—literally of the Good Death—comprising some of the old nobles, merchants, and tradesmen—a relic of the countless religious associations of the Middle Ages, still held together by a bond more of custom and kindly feeling than of faith—entered upon the office of ministering to the last hours of the condemned. Some remained with him all night, accompanying him to the prison-chapel, where the appropriate services were performed; and the others, dispersed about the town, went from house to house collecting money to be applied in masses for his soul. They did not proffer a word, but stood like spectres at the door, completely enshrouded in their black robes and peaked cowls, and rattling the box in which the alms were to be deposited, whereon a death's-head and cross-bones were rudely painted. It was one of those successful appeals to their senses, more especially to their terror of aught connected with death, to which these people are so peculiarly sensitive; and none, I verily believe, not even of the most determined _increduli_, but turned pale, and hastened to make his offering. The very existence of such a brotherhood, in the midst of so much unbelief, is a paradox, and is one of those inconsistencies which meet one at every step in attempting any analysis of the Italian character. As soon as day broke, many women repaired to the churches to hear the first mass, with the intention, as it is termed, of rendering it available to the soul of the departing sinner—some remaining upon their knees until they knew he was no more.
The good offices of the Buona Morte extended to the last; they accompanied the criminal to the scaffold, besides a long train of priests and friars, and then followed his remains to the place of interment. As may be supposed, crowds of the populace flocked to the execution; but from the common report, it would appear that far less of that revolting ribaldry and indifference was displayed than has been so loudly protested against as stigmatizing the English under similar circumstances. As a means of enforcing the moral lesson, many fathers took their children to the spot; and when all was over, and the guillotine had done its ghastly office, beat them severely, to impress upon them the fatal consequences of crime; yet, in spite of this discipline, it seemed too probable that the unbounded interest manifested for the departed, the praises lavished upon his penitence, and upon his courage in encountering death, must completely have done away with any salutary reflections the terrible spectacle had produced.