On May 23, 1498, an angry mob hanged and burned a man.
Over five hundred years later, I stood at the site of his death, watching tourists tread unknowingly over this spot once lit with flames. The executed man was Girolamo Savonarola, an infamous Dominican friar who, among other things, encouraged armies of spy-children and critiqued the Catholic Church. The latter offense got him in big trouble; now, a grounded circle in Piazza della Signoria in Florence, Italy, commemorates his death, although few look down long enough to realize it.
Commemorative plaque for Girolamo Savonarola
I gazed at this spot every day while studying abroad in Florence. After all, I passed it on my way to class, while pushing through throngs of tourists and avoiding the wayward pigeon. History made Florence come alive–or undead–and imbued my surroundings with new meaning. During my class on the Renaissance, we learned about the Black Death, and about great battles that had taken place right beneath our feet. I considered this as I ate gelato, or as I ran in the mornings beside the Arno. The differences between my experience and those of the past seemed insurmountable; yet, at the same time, I felt closer to those people than ever.
Avery Padgett in Medici Chapel
Quickly, I learned that ghosts were everywhere. I had the privilege of becoming a volunteer tour guide in the Church of Santa Maria Novella, which holds famous works by Massaccio, Donatello, and Brunelleschi; but, the Church is also a gravesite, with many bodies buried beneath its stone. Years ago, when people died they preferred to be buried closer to God. If they could afford it, this often meant being buried inside a church. People were buried in the chapels, the walls, and even the floors; each week, while giving tours, I stepped over these graves, and drew guests’ attention to what–and who–we were looking at. The Church was constantly chilly due to its great stone walls; sometimes, I wonder if the cold was due to something else.
Chapel in Santa Maria Novella
The Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore
I gazed longer and longer at the Church graves. I lingered at the site where Savonarola was burned, and watched as people walked over his commemorative plaque without a second glance. As I learned more, I felt I could feel them more, these people from long ago. Their memories raised the hair on the back of my neck, and struck a melancholy chord in my heart. These ghosts, visible only through historical markers and memories, were not scary. They were like us–people who laughed, and cried, and lived. To see these people, and to learn their lessons, you have to pause. Take the time to read the plaque, to ask for information, to visit the museum. When you seek out historical knowledge, you are seeking a change in perspective. You find that, rather than consisting of static objects, buildings, squares, and other spaces hold stories. This mentality is an asset to your travels. Learning with intention while abroad will open you up to many opportunities to interact with the people of today, tomorrow….and the people of yesterday.
Commentaires