Thursday, December 9
CUSTOM
do not get to a city, came out of habit. I descend the stairs of the Golden Mount, crossed the Piazza San Cosimato, with its huge tree that protects it from any misfortune and market stalls, ghost and alone at this hour of the night. To Santa Maria in Trastevere guide me the sound of the fountain on the terrace of the Caffè di Marzio a solitary drink and smoke, oblivious to the cold. I let my feet lead, with closed eyes could follow this route. A street with Christmas lights (and a magic shop that only sold hourglasses, "Il Tempo polvere) leaves me in the Piazza Trilussa, facing the Ponte Sisto. I crossed, I pause a moment to contemplate the Via Julia, I cross Piazza Farnese (in a corner, the cafe where I waited so many times who did not arrive, but arrive). Then Campo dei Fiori, with its dark and suffering Giordano Bruno.
Yes, with my eyes closed I can follow this path. To my left, St. Louis of the French and the wonder of Caravaggios, then the square of the Pantheon, with the front half hidden. In the eighteenth century Piazza San Ignacio to silence sounds like Mozart. Just so people at the Trevi Trevi, had rarely been able to admire so lonely. I climb up the hill from the Quirinale. Here are the Dioscuri, holding the bridle of the prancing horses. A long street, the San Andrés de San Carlos Bernini and Borromini's competing at both ends. I have days when I am inclined to the lavish baroque, all pomp and glitter, and other tortured by the geometry: in bad times always look for the cloister of San Carlino, it fits in the palm of a hand.
Via delle Quatro Fontane , next to the gate storied palazzo Barberini, the other a small hotel I ever stayed (near the attack occurred that caused the mass killing of Ardeatine). The stairs to the plaza of Spain alone at this hour of the night. Via Lone Margutta also leads me to Piazza del Popolo and a night of twenty years ago ... A city is not a city, is a habit. Rome to me is a journey, always the same, on a winter night that never ends. A trip back in time to a time when I do not know if I was infinitely infinitely unhappy or miserable. I know that then, for the first time, I was alive. And since then I have the impression that only survive.
Friday, December 10
CRIME
wake me at seven bells of the church. Begins to dawn. Remember Alberti's verses: "The bells of Trastevere / van and come for my dreams." The garden of the Academy, little by little the sky is blue becoming the most intense between the Arcadian birds chirping early risers. Outside, a cold wind blows. I first walk around, alone with my ghosts. A plaque notes that the church of San Pietro in Montorio was one of the last pockets of resistance in the short-lived republic of 1849, it had its headquarters Garibaldi.
In November 1848, when the liberal revolutions shook Europe (48 storms Galdós titled one of its episodes), Count Rossi was strong man of the pontifical government: Minister of Interior, Minister of Police, Acting Minister of Finance and general commander of the police. Pius IX, who had begun his reign with liberal reforms, asks reconduzca the situation spiraling out of control. On day 15 of this month go to the palace of the Foreign Ministry to explain his agenda. Most MPs plan to vote against it, he hopes to convince. The revolutionary clubs waving the situation, calling the murder of the tyrant. Rossi had brought to Rome all police detachments that were in the Papal States. The previous afternoon reviewed. Was satisfied and sure to suppress any uprising. The police marched through the Via del Corso, in the midst of the surprised looks of the agitators, who did not have this unexpected obstacle. The next day, on every corner and the doors of churches and cafes in a form called on all good citizens to focus on the square of the Chancellery. Count Rossi
back to see the pope, alone in his car, accompanied by Deputy Finance Minister. Arriving at the plaza was greeted by shouts and whistles from the crowd that filled. Did whip the horses and the carriage went at a gallop in the portico of the palace. To either side of the staircase had also people. Rossi, serene, gets out of the car. Suddenly, someone struck him with a stick. When you return, you throw a stab to the neck that severs the left carotid artery. Blood floods the floor, walls and splashes his face and clothes of the bystanders. The minister drops dead instantly. Continued outside the whistles and screams. A tall man, long beard, comes to the door and shouted: "Tutto è fatto!". In his words the sudden silence happens. The soldiers had left their jobs there. The murderers were slowly away from the crowd. Some cry out: "Hanno fatto bene!". Inside the House was known at the time the news, it was business as usual had happened: they read the minutes of the previous meeting, the roll was called and as there were not enough deputies adjourned. The English ambassador, Francisco Martinez de la Rosa, ran immediately to the Quirinal to offer comfort to the Pope and the help of their government. At dusk, members of the Popular Circle, which was the one who organized the murder, leaving preceded by a tricolor flag, with lighted torches, shouting. They go to the police headquarters to thank them for not having fire on the murderers. Iban shouting: "Long live freedom! Blessed be the hand that killed Rossi! Viva the dagger of the new Brute! ".
- I I saw this group, which would barely a hundred people, walking the quiet streets of the capital of the world, go to the barracks, where he was received with great acclaim by the troops, and again followed by numerous soldiers, has Fabraquer Count, eyewitness to these events.
Cannons that ended French revolution started with the cowardly knife. The Gianicolo is full of memories of those days and bloody excited.
Rome is to me a habit and an endless library illustrated.
Saturday, December 11 LEAK
In one of the book stalls of Piazza I bought the Exedra, I do not know how many years ago, a curious book, which is then lost and that one of those rare coincidences that sometimes occur reappeared after looking for something to read during the trip. It's called Rome Revolution and wrote the Earl of Fabraquer, José Muñoz Maldonado, Member of Parliament. The caption says: "History of the temporal power of Pius IX, from his accession until his flight from Rome, and the convening of the National Assembly on December 30, 1848." It was published the following year, when it would be history was just journalism. While
walk the halls of the Quirinale Palace, I think that Pope flight lost twice its temporal power.
After the assassination of Count Rossi, the father locked himself in the Quirinal, disregarding the demands of the rebels. He fled the night of 24. Fabraquer was not there, but has first-hand: "The French ambassador arrived at the evening gala with his car, and asked to see the pope. Was added to the pontifical office, whose door was closed immediately. All conference believed the pope to the French ambassador, while the pope, changing clothing, dresses as a peasant, covering his head with a round hat with wide brim, and exits through a narrow corridor with a candle in his hand. A few moments later Ambassador of France, who was looking forward to the success of the plan, heard footsteps in the hall and thinks that the escape attempt was discovered and brought to the pope prisoner. But Pius IX had returned to her chamber, not because he had found no obstacle, but because he had forgotten his snuff. Soothe the ambassador, and this is still some time left in the cabinet, simulating a large audience. Lower then a secret staircase leading into the room by your butler. At the front door, for three nights a car sent by the French ambassador was stationed for about an hour or two and then taking away a person either, so get used to stop spies a car at that site, and if suspected to see that nothing discovery. The pope left without attention. Half an hour after leaving the ambassador, had left Rome. In one of the stops on the chaise in which he traveled, he met a squad of police. The sergeant who commanded them greeted him without recognizing him, and said: "Later you travel, father, but good weather, the road is safe, and you have nothing to fear until Terracina. Bon voyage! ". Pius IX greeted him with the greatest coolness. Martínez de la Rosa, whom the press accused of inspiring Roman drain, waiting at Civita-Vecchia the arrival of the steamer Lepanto, which was move the Pope to Spain, but bad weather caused the ship is delayed and the pope sought refuge in the kingdom of Naples.
Sunday, December 12
LIFE
No corner of this city that does not tell me a story. Walk through the Gianicolo, the city stretched out and offered to my feet, feeling lord of the universe, and suddenly I get a cold wind, a sudden blow, screaming and kicking. Yes, these domes and galleries are the Regina Coeli prison, where in 1943 locked up the Jews, where he died Leo Ginzburg. "That night-Natalia-account was in the infirmary. He had been beaten and had once again broken jaw. Asked the nurse to call the doctor, but she just give him some coffee. When he died, there was nobody with him. Sweeper was found dead at dawn. "
often think of the insignificance of my life, gray, routine, no big or small passions (except for wholly imaginary), with nothing to tell. I was born in a small town and then I lived in Aviles and Oviedo. In forty years only once I moved house and no work. I had neck partner. A writer with this biography, the life experience, I never would bother me of reading.
But how many lives fit into a life, any life.
I'm everything I know, everything I've dreamed of, everything that has shocked me. With Count Rossi have fallen into the treacherous dagger, in the silence of the city, I returned to find the snuff I had forgotten, though he risked my freedom and those who helped me on the run, and broke my heart and jaw Nazi boots in Regina Coeli prison.
seems that in my life nothing happened, but for me it has happened and happens the whole world history.
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