The Sack of Rome

The Emperor, Charles V, by Titian

One of the most notable dates in my historical calendar is the Sack of Rome by renegade troops of the Holy Roman Empire on May 6, 1527.

Charles V, invictissimus imperator, caesar augustus romanorum cuius maiestas etc., etc.... was the only Holy Roman Emperor to have truly reigned over an Empire. Through the manipulations of the great Habsburg,his grandfather Maximilian, the Holy Roman Empire had come to include the lands of the Electors but also the Spanish Empire (with its overseas colonies and their gold) and Burgundy (with much of what today is BE-NE-LUX).

It is a shame that these were times of dreadful turmoil. The Reformation was gaining momentum and on top of that the Empire had to fight wars on many fronts as many of its enemies joined in impossible alliances to attack its might.

One of these unthinkable alliances was the League of Cognac, between France, Venice, Milan and Florence. (How on earth would Milan ever ally with Venice and both of them with the Papal States...)

In any case the italians have always been woefully pathetic in war since the decline and fall of the Roman Empire. Their condottieri (mercenary war leaders) did not so much as fight as put up a nice show of manoeuvre and nice uniforms. And although France traditionally fielded the heaviest, better equipped and noblest cavalry in the world, as Agincourt had shown, it was not enough.

Against them, the Emperor had the Landsknechte. An exceptional mercenary fighting force, the ruthless Landskechte had been organised by Maximilian under the command of the tirolean Georg von Frundsberg.

Georg von Frundsberg, lord of Mindelheim

The armies met in 1525 at Pavia, near Milan, where the alliance troops were decimated by the imperial forces that employed arquebus handguns in what was considered the first modern battle.

The Imperial victory was so complete that the french king himself was taken prisoner.

However the batlle was followed by 2 years of inconclusive campaigning during which the army drew closer to Rome (popular belief has it that during that time Frundsberg carried a golden rope to hang the Pope with).

Delays in payment, harassment from the Bande Nere, the only effective italian fighting force, under the command of Giovanni de' Medici (Giovanni delle Bande Nere) without a conclusive battle (even though Giovanni was eventually killed by a serpentine - or falconet - cannonball ) and a stroke that forced Frundsberg to retire undermined discipline in the Imperial army to the point of mutiny. They forced their commander, Charles III (Duke of Bourbon and Constable of France - how he fought against the french king? Well, it's the Rennaisance... duh...) to lead them to Rome.

The city's pathetic defences held a bit more than the lifetime of an exceptionally unstable nucleus under heavy neutron bombardment.

However, the Swiss Guard ( Cohors Pedestris Helvetiorum a Sacra Custodia Pontificis ) of the Pope (Clemens VII) gave their life to ensure that the Pope has enough time to flee to the Castello Sant' Angelo through a secret corridor (the now famous Passetto di Borgo).

The end of the passetto entering the Castello Sant' Angelo

The head of the defenders of the Castello Sant' Angelo was none other than the flamboyant jeweller and sculptor Benvenuto Cellini (whose statue Perseus is one of the greatest masterpieces of sculpture). Cellini, in his autobiography does more credit to himself than he (or any other italian) deserves for his role in the defence of the city and even claims responsibility for the death of Charles III.

Cellini's statue at the Galleria degli Uffizi ( in Florence...)

In any case, a fearful sack ensued. Villas and churches were plundered, women raped, works of art destroyed and even though the Emperor was shamed by the conduct of his troops, he would never again get any lip from the Pope whose obedience after his ransom was ensured, to the point of causing the schism with the English Church, because of his denial to annull Henry VIII's marriage to Catherine of Aragon in order to marry Anne Boleyn (because Catherine was the Emperor's aunt).

And then you ask me why I love the Rennaisance and the italians.... :-)

PS I: In a notable twist of fate, Martin Luther wrote: "Christ reigns in such a way that the Emperor who persecutes Luther for the Pope is forced to destroy the Pope for Luther" (Luther Werke 49:169)

PS II: Anathema sit on the Colonna family which sided with the Imperials to sack the Holy City, anathema, anathema, anathema...

PS III: If you have a piece of golden rope, well, now you know what to do with it: Go to Rome and hang the Pope!!!



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Il Gattopardo pt. III - The film

"One of the films I live by"

Martin Scorsese

I end the Leopard posts introductory trilogy with a few words about the 1963 incomparable cinema masterpiece "Il Gattopardo" by Luchino Visconti.





One must first note that it would be really difficult to find a director better suited to direct such a film. Luchino Visconti (b. 1906) was a descendant of the Visconti family of Milano, the family that alternately with the Sforzas ruled Milan as Dukes for much of its independent medieval and Rennaisance history. As a young man he saw the two wars rendering any notion of nobility obsolete, a fate that was sealed by the rise of the nouveau-riche bourgeoisie.

Indeed, he shot several other films dealing in a similar way with the same concept of the decadence of nobility: "The Damned" (La caduta degli Dei/Götterdämmerung - 1969 ), "Death in Venice" - 1971 and "Ludwig" - 1973.

The film itself is exemplary in every way.

The photography manages to capture the essence of burnt flint that seems to insinuate itself in every colour of the sunblasted sicilian landscape.

The music was written by no other than Nino Rota.

The casting was superbly fortunate. Burt Lancaster as the patriarch of the Corbera family is a convincingly true Leopard, suave, noble and imposing. Alain Delon cuts the correct bella figura that Tancredi was supposed to be, a man of the new order of things, adapted to the manners, morality and compromises of the new less-than-noble era of italian history.

And then... Claudia Cardinale. No words for that woman. Absolutely no words for the creature that could easily give the legendary beauties that have supposedly walked this earth a run for their money.


The point of this post of course is not to laud an acclaimed masterpiece but to draw attention to some details that give the film the depth that an adaptation of such a novel truly deserves and I will illustrate these points with stills captured from the remastered bfi DVD release.

I choose to begin with this wonderful shot of the sicilian countryside. The picture alone makes one’s thought hazy, like a summer midday of merciless sunlight in the mediterranean. I can almost smell the hay and the horses… like the lazing summers of my childhood at Crete:



The Corbera family arrive at Donnafugata, where they are - in the customary (and surrealistically silly) way - greeted by the village band playing “Noi siamo zingarelle” ( “We are gypsy girls” by Verdi’s La Traviatta). Rota has followed the cadence and rhythm of this piece throughout his career. Extra note: “VIVA GARIBALDO” (sic) in the background...:



Probably the best moment of the film’s cinematography: The Corbera family attending the Te Deum liturgy, as another custom of their visits to Donnafugata, before even going to their estate to freshen up, the dust from their long journey by carriage from Palermo still on their clothes and faces, making their pose truly statuesque. Superb :



A shot so fundamentally “Risorgimento” that it has become a staple of its imagery: The plebiscite in Donnafugata:



And now the most striking detail that has left me completely flabbergasted… Sicilian Garibaldini singing “La Bella Gigogin”. This in itself is noted in the book and nothing too original, since La Bella Gigogin (Beautiful Teresa, Gigogin being a piemontese diminutive of Teresa: Teresa -> Teresina -> Gigogin ) was a very popular allegorical garibaldine song. However the greatness of the film was that its lively rhythm was adapted to sound like a Sicilian serenata, slow and almost wailing…!!! I do not know who had the brilliant inspiration to do this but whether it was Rota or Visconti, he managed to set the tone – for those who know - for the whole affair in the sicilian politics. The SI on their hats means YES in the plebiscite for the unification of Sicily and the rest of Italy and the dissolution of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies. Splendid:

A quindici anni facevo all'amore / Daghel'avanti un passo, delizia del mio cuore
(At the age of fifteen I made love/ come forth a pace, delight of my heart)

The reception at Donnafugata: The wealthy but ill-educated and crude Don Calogero Sedàra, and his daughter Angelica:

Don Calogero's comical entrance and his ill-fated attempt to shake hands with the Prince.

Note the expressions: Tancredi (Alain Delon) in rapture and Concetta (Lucilla Morlacchi) poisoned by envy and despair

Uncertain and nervous but still, the very image of loveliness

And the dance near the finale. I have absolutely no words. The old surrenders to the hands of the new, and a chapter of Italian history passes away in a swirl of grace, beauty and bravura. No words at all…



In the end:
"Noi fummo i Gattopardi, i Leoni; quelli che ci sostituiranno saranno gli sciacalletti, le iene; e tutti quanti Gattopardi, sciacalli e pecore continueremo a crederci il sale della terra."

(We were the Leopards, the Lions; those that will come in our place will be the petty jackals, the hyenas; and the whole lot, Leopards, jackals and sheep, will continue to believe that we are the salt of the earth - trnsl. by me).

The Leopard: Don Fabrizio Corbera, Principe di Salina, in his study, packed with telescopes and mathematical and astronomical papers...

PS: “But we shouldn’t waste sorrow over the aristocracy of misfortune” Count Hasimir Fenring, Dune by Frank Herbert

PS II: Click on images to enlarge...

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Cave Idus Martiae! - Cäsars Tod

Beware the Ides of March! (March 15)

For all those who have set their minds on greatness and lofty goals, let this day be a warning! Treason is never away from people's minds.

Betrayal can lurk behind any corner and traitors... well... we see them in our everyday lives aplenty.

Tyranny on the other hand,as history has shown, is never tolerated. Another warning to those who tread on others to reach their lofty goals.



From the opera "Der Silbersee,ein Wintermärchen" (The Silver lake, a winter's tale) by the great Kurt Weill (libretto by Georg Kaiser):

Cäsars Tod

Rom war eine Stadt, und alle Römer
hatten in den Adern heißes Blut.
Als sie Cäsar einst tyrannisch reizte,
kochte es sofort in Siedeglut.

Nicht die Warnung konnte Cäsar hindern:
"Hüte vor des Märzes Iden dich!"
Er verfolgte seine frechen Ziele
und sah schon als Herrn der Römer sich.

Immer schlimmer schlug ihn die Verblendung,
nur sein Wort galt noch im Capitol.
Und den weisen Rat der Senatoren
schmähte er gemein und höhnisch Kohl.

Da kam stolzes Römerblut ins Wallen.
Selbst der Freund bleibt keinem Cäsar treu,
wenn ihn dieser nur für seine Zwecke
kalt mißbraucht und sagt es ohne Scheu.

Heimlich trafen nachts sich die Verschwörer
und beredeten voll Eifer sich.
Und genau am Tag der Märzesiden
gab ihm Brutus den verdienten Stich.

Cäsar sank von seinem Sitz und stierte
seinen Mörder an, als ob’s nicht wahr.
"Et tu, Brute?" — rief er auf lateinisch,
wie es dort die Landessprache war.

Lasse keiner sich vom Wahn verführen,
daß er mehr als jeder and’re gelt:
Cäsar wollte mit dem Schwert regieren
und ein Messer hat ihn selbst gefällt.

(Once there was a city called Rome, and all the Romans
had hot blood in their veins.
And when Caesar provoked them with tyranny
it roared immediately with boiling-heat.

The warning could not hinder Caesar
"Beware the Ides of March!"
He pursued his brazen goals
already seeing himself as lord of the Romans.

His blindness grew worse and worse
his word alone counted in the Capitol.
And the wise counsel of the Senators
he would sneer at and treat as rot.

Then the proud Roman blood came to the boil
no friends remain loyal to Caesar
when he coldly misuses them for his own purposes
and shamelessly says so.

The conspirators met secretly at night
and plotted full of eagerness
And exactly on the day of the Ides of March
Brutus gave him the stab he deserved

Caesar sank from his seat and stared
at his murderers as if it weren't real
"Et tu, Brute?" he said in latin
as was the language of that place

Let no one be led by delusions
that he counts more than anyone else:
Caesar wanted to rule with the sword
and it was a knife that struck him down.)

Sic semper tyrannis, gentlemen... the line that divides greatness from tyranny is a very fine one. As is the line that divides betrayal from self-determination....



PS I: "Der Silbersee,ein Wintermärchen" premiered 10 days before the burning of the Reichstag in 1933. It was a brave move by Kurt Weill and Georg Kaiser to stage an opera directly attacking tyranny while Nazism was on the rise.

PS II: Though less dramatic, it is the everyday betrayals that we usually face. And they hurt every bit as much because they remind us of the many ways life has to make us be untrue even to ourselves.
For Rafael...


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Gianni Agnelli (March 12, 1921 - January 24, 2003)

Gianni Agnelli was the most important industrialist in Italian history ("Agnelli significa FIAT e FIAT significa Agnelli"). According to Wikipedia: "As the head of Fiat, he controlled 4.4% of Italy's GNP, 3.1% of its industrial workforce, and 16.5% of its industrial investment in research."

More importantly, his exquisite taste in style made him one of the best dressed men EVER (one of the top-five according to Esquire magazine). - He is Piemontese, after all...not surprising for one of them to become the epitome of style and panache.

All this is well known however.

I hereby post two rare pictures, scanned from an old italian course book of mine, aria d'italia (Edizioni Scolastiche Bruno Mondadori). The pictures from this book come from the photographic archives of the Edizioni Scolastiche Mondadori and from the Centro di Documentazione dell' Arnoldo Mondadori Editore and besides that, from the photographic agencies : Farabola di Milano, Fiore di Torino and Pubbli Aer Foto di Milano.

Gianni Agnelli (left) with the great Enzo Ferrari, over a racing Ferrari single seater.


"IL MANZO AUMENTA, mangeremo Agnelli" One of the most famous italian puns: "BEEF PRICES RISE, we will eat lambs (agnelli)". Obviously, L'Avvocato (The Lawyer) was not very popular with the working classes :-)

PS: In 1980, trade unions closed down the main FIAT installations at Mirafiori. ("The 35 days of FIAT").

Berlinguer addressing the workers during the strike at Mirafiori. (www.immaginidistoria.it)

It was a direct clash between the Italian Communist Party (PCI) and its secretary, Enrico Berlinguer, and Gianni Agnelli. It ended with a huge counter-march organised by Agnelli himself. During this period he set the tone against the "historical compromises" and Eurocommunism advocated by Berlinguer, with his statement:

«Fino ad oggi il Partito comunista è stato visto con due prospettive: quella della speranza e quella della paura. Dopo l'episodio di oggi credo che la prospettiva della speranza sia cancellata»

("Up to this day the communist Party was viewed with two perspectives: that of hope and that of fear. After today's events I believe the perspective of hope has been annulled")






















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Il Gattopardo pt. II - The novel

Today is the birthday of Alessandro Manzoni, the man who in his masterpiece "I Promessi Sposi" (The Betrothed) not only encapsulated italian aspirations for self-determination and independence from austrian influence but provided, in standardised toscana idiom the "official" languange for the nascent Italian State.

However, at this time I choose to continue on a related subject, the novel Il Gatopardo (The Leopard) by the prince of Lampedusa, Giuseppe Tomasi.




The italian Risorgimento created what had not been achieved since the days of the Roman Empire: A unified Italy. The old establishment of petty Kingdoms, Duchies, Republics, city-states and the Papal States was swept away in its obvious obsolescence.

However, the new, predominantly Piemontese, establishment had to contend with centuries-old mindsets, customs and practices that brought each region of Italy a world apart from each other. Perhaps Fürst von Metternich's deeply reactionary comment that "Italy" was nothing but a geographical term, held some measure of truth.

Sicily had seen a change of hands way too many times but it seemed that the sun-baked landscape induced the same state of inertia to any change of rule, moulded the psyche in such ways as to make it a timeless extension of those interminable, lazy, hot summer middays that characterised - in name as well - the wider region: Il Mezzogiorno....


Change, by definition is something relative. This time however, there was real change in the air and it came with a piemontese bourgeois face.

The time was 1860 and the Kingdom of Two Sicilies was about to end, with the power shifting not from one aristocracy to another, but rather to a more dynamic form of power: centralised politics and by inevitable necessity, money.

I used to be more concerned with the sociopolitical aspects of the novel. It is a keen insight on the failings of the Cavour-Garibaldi centralization that disregarded local character. It also takes an ideological position that came under fire by almost everyone: For the left it is a reactionary idealisation of dangerous aristocratic ideals and for the right it is an impious novel that portrays the clergy as corrupt and weak. I will not be writing about that however. Tons (literally) of books have been written on The Leopard's sociopolititcal profile. I need and can not add to that. The state of modern Italy is way too complicated a subject and for me a deeply emotional one as well.

What has grown to concern me most about the book is the astonishing depth in which, in his measured and accurate (too accurate one may say) language, Tomasi explores the psyche of the vanishing aristocracy, a self exploratory journey into the nobility of quiet decay and the acceptance of the inevitable as the world moves on, at an ever increasing pace towards new and unprecedented ways to distribute power and influence.

The prince (the author, since we will spell the hero, Prince Corbera with a capital P ) was a man of great depths but apparently little... let us say "nerve". He spent his life (a phrase leaps into mind, "life of quiet desperation" or something like that, now where have I heard it before?) travelling and reading and doing little besides that. He became a member of the intellectual literary societies of Palermo and he published some critical works but nothing further than that.

It seems as if his whole life was a single observation period that led to a single novel in his final months of life that encompassed in the most comprehensive way the psychological aspects of the fading of the old as the new came to the foreground.

The main character, Don Fabrizio Corbera, principe di Salina, a charismatic person with a passion for mathematics and astronomy did nothing to reverse the family's fortunes. By refusing to enter the Senate, he kept his dignified stance but that meant that he gradually faded into the background, while the slimy face of the new order revealed itself in the crude but wealthy mayor Don Calogero Sedàra, who made a fortune with the acquisition of assets that the nobles sold to balance the liabilitites of their decadence, lands that in the novel pass by in a sad roll call of property long gone.

Is don Calogero, however, worse than the opportunistic Tancredi, the Prince's nephew, who with the Prince's backing marries the beautiful and beautifully rich Angelica Sedàra, don Calogero's daughter, who inherited the maternal beauty - and never mind the fact that her maternal grandfather was a man named Pepe Merda (Pepe Shit) ?

Hints to the author's feelings (without any declared sympathies - Tomasi, in all probability because of his psychoanalyst wife, was conscious of the self-destructing capacity of nobility) are provided by the victims: By the sad, slow fate of the dog Bendicò, by the loyal, but naive in his faith for the divine right of nobility and absolutely scorned don Ciccio and by Concetta, the Prince's daughter, who in the end reamins unmarried and childless, ending the Corbera line forever.

By the fates of these people the novel raises a very serious question:
What is nobility?

Now I believe that it is the collected weight of the world, borne upon the shoulders of some individuals who through upbringing, stimuli, ancestral memories or special sensibilities grasp the very meaning of terrible purpose, dictated by something loftier than simple day-to-day survival with concessions and the steady grinding into the amorphous mass of people that pressures from society mandate.

From those nobles (today do not look for them only in palaces and towers - even though it is unlikely to find them in hovels) some discover the inner strength to carry on, day by dogged day, carrying the burdens that dignity and duty demand and some (most) others simply choose to wallow in their emotional ivory tower (like Concetta) simply because they are tangled in a maze of irrelevant misconceptions that obscures their true self and the inner core of perseverence that each human has within him.

In many ways it reminds me of Ismini, in the play of the same name by Yiannis Ritsos. A figure of ultimate dignity, a timeless testimony of the past, practically frozen while all around her in her halls, time passes bringing with him an almost audible decay. The burden of the tragic currents of humanity all around her have rendered her an island of introversion. Until it is time for her to make her splendid exit, and lie, as in sleep, poisoned by her own hand.

___________________________________________________________________________

The Leopard has many aspects and can be read in many ways. Most of them are well documented. Besides all that, to me the Leopard is prominently an elegy to the past, not because it was lost (the concept of loss begins and ends the book and the Prince's life, and he argues successfully that in human terms, how long may one resist change? One century, two? Then what? ) but because it is preserved just enough to trap its heirs in its legacy.

It is an elegy to the inner strength that people who needed it most never developed.
And that is a very astute observation from a prince who spent all his life in quiet introspection.

***

"Noi fummo i Gattopardi, i Leoni; quelli che ci sostituiranno saranno gli sciacalletti, le iene; e tutti quanti Gattopardi, sciacalli e pecore continueremo a crederci il sale della terra."

(We were the Leopards, the Lions; those that will come in our place will be the petty jackals, the hyenas; and the whole lot, Leopards, jackals and sheep, will continue to believe that we are the salt of the earth - trnsl. by me).




PS: "Prince of the island of Lampedusa, duke of Palma, baron of Montechiaro, lord and master of Torretta, baron of Falconeri, Raffo, Rosso, Santo Nicolò, Colobrino e Zarcati, lord of the fiefs of Montecuccio, Bellolambo e Bigliemi, dei Communi, Communaccio, Mandranuova, Ficoamara, della Villa, Celona, Casarino, Poggilo, Carobitto, Affacio Mare, Santa Domenica, Gibildolce , of the three areas of Donna Ventura, Casa Romana e Rennella and of the farms of Facio, Casotte, Argivocale e Manca". These were the, long lost in the author's time, titles of his grandfather, the astronomer Giulio Maria Tomasi.

Gioachino Rossini - Tanti auguri, Maestro!

Gioachino Rossini
by Francesco Hayez, Pinacoteca di Brera, Milano

Today is the birthday of the great italian opera composer Gioacchino Rossini. (Yes, he was a leapling !: 29 February 1792 - 13 November 1868).

One of my absolute favourites, he wrote music that had deep roots in native italian rhythms. I do not wish at this point to write an extensive post about him. I simply wanted to share with you, on occasion of his birthday, two videos: a fantastic tarantella composition of his, sung by my favourite tenor of all times, Alfredo Kraus and the most beautiful performance of the "Largo al factotum" aria from Il Barbiere di Siviglia that I have ever heard, by baritone Thomas Hampson.

La Danza (Tarantella Napolitana)






Già la luna in mezzo al mare, mamma mia,si salterà;
l'ora è bella per danzare, chi è in amor non mancherà.

Già la luna in mezzo al mare, mamma mia,si salterà;
l'ora è bella per danzare, chi è in amor non mancherà.

Già la luna in mezzo al mare, mamma mia si salterà.
Presto in danza a tondo a tondo, donne mie, venite quà;
un garzon bello e giocondo a ciascuna toccherà.
Finché in ciel brilla una stella e la luna splenderà,
il più bel con la bella tutta notte danzerà.

Salta, salta, gira, gira, ogni coppia a cerchio va;
già s'avanza, si ritira e all'assalto tornerà:

Salta, salta, gira, gira, ogni coppia a cerchio va;
già s'avanza, si ritira e all'assalto tornerà.
Serra, serra colla bionda, colla bruna va qua e là,
colla rossa va a seconda, colla smorta fermo sosta.
Viva il ballo a tondo a tondo, sono un re,sono un pascià;
è il più bel piacer del mondo, la più cara voluttà.

Mamma mia, mamma mia, Già la luna in mezzo al mare,
... mamma mia, mamma mia, si salterà;
frinche, frinche, frinche, frinche, frinche, frinche, mamma mia si salterà,
frinche, frinche, frinche, frinche, frinche, frinche, mamma mia si salterà, la la la ra la ra .....

With a translation by me:
(Already the moon is at the middle of the sea, mama mia how we'll jump about!
The time is right for dancing, whoever is in love will not miss it.

Quickly at the dance, round and round, my ladies come here
a handsome, cheerful lad will dance with everyone fo you
As long as a star shines in the sky and the moon glows
the most handsome one will dance all night with the most beautiful one

Leap and leap again, go round and round, every couple swirls about
now the advance, now they retreat and return to the assault!
Held close and closer with the blonde, with the brunette go here and there
then go with the redhead, with the pale one take a break.
Long live the ball, round and round, I am a King, I am a Pasha
it is the greatest delight in the world, the dearest pleasure!)




Largo al factotum



I was particularly moved when I found this video because that show which was a gala night or special anniversary for the New York Metropolitan Opera was, when broadcast by EPT (that was how it was called back then) my first visual contact with opera. It opened with Verdi's Rigoletto with the late Luciano Pavarotti. I had taped it and watched it over and over again until some 10 years ago it was accidentally taped over. Anyway, you can see at the end of the video that the conductor, James Levine is moved to tears by Hampson's excellent performance...

Largo al factotum della città, largo!
Presto a bottega che l'alba è già, presto!
Ah, che bel vivere, che bel piacere
per un barbiere di qualità!

Ah, bravo Figaro!
Bravo, bravissimo!
Fortunatissimo per verità!

Pronto a far tutto,
la notte e il giorno
sempre d'intorno in giro sta.
Miglior cuccagna per un barbiere,
vita più nobile, no, non si da.
Rasori e pettini
lancette e forbici,
al mio comando
tutto qui sta.
V'è la risorsa,
poi, de mestiere
colla donnetta... col cavaliere...

Tutti mi chiedono, tutti mi vogliono,
donne, ragazzi, vecchi, fanciulle:
Qua la parrucca... Presto la barba!
Qua la sanguigna...
Presto il biglietto...
Qua la parrucca, presto la barba,
Presto il biglietto, ehi!

Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!....
Ahimè, che furia!
Ahimè, che folla!
Uno alla volta, per carità!
Eh, Figaro! Son qua.
Figaro qua, Figaro là,
Figaro su, Figaro giù,

Pronto prontissimo son come il fulmine:
sono il factotum della città.
Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo;
a te fortuna non mancherà.

(Make way for the factotum of the city,
Hurrying to his shop since dawn is already here.
Ah, what a fine life, what fine pleasure
For a barber of quality!

Ah, bravo Figaro!
Bravo, bravissimo!
A most fortunate man indeed!


Ready to do everything
Night and day,
Always on the move.
A cushier fate for a barber,
A more noble life, is not to be had.
Razors and combs,

Lancets and scissors,
At my command
Everything's there.
Here are the tools
Of my trade
With the ladies...with the gentlemen...
Everyone asks for me, everyone wants me,

Ladies, young lads, old men, young girls:
Here is the wig...the beard is ready...
Here are the leeches...
The note is ready...
Here is the wig, the beard is ready,
The note is ready, hey!

Figaro! Figaro! Figaro!, ...
Ah, what frenzy!
Ah, what a crowd!
One at a time, please!
Hey, Figaro! I'm here.
Figaro here, Figaro there,
Figaro up, Figaro down,

Swifter and swifter, I'm like a thunderbolt:
I'm the factotum of the city.
Ah, bravo Figaro! Bravo, bravissimo,
You'll never want for luck!)

Il Gattopardo pt. I - Giuseppe Tomasi, principe di Lampedusa

Given the opportunity of his birthday, I would like to post a tribute to the man who has written the book that has influenced my view of modern Italy the most.


This man is Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa and the book is of course "Il Gattopardo" ( "The Leopard" in English, a rather inaccurate translation for the north-african serval), the only novel he ever wrote.

He was the scion of the Tomasi princes of Lampedusa, a small italian island off the coast of North Africa (hence a probable connection of the family coat of arms with the gattopardo, a feline found mostly in North Africa) granted to them already by 1558.

Giuseppe Maria Fabrizio Salvatore Stefano Vittorio Tomasi, in his full name, later principe di Lampedusa e duca di Palma e Montechiaro was born on 23 December 1896.

His father was Giulio Maria Tomasi, principe di Lampedusa e duca di Palma e Montechiaro and his mother was Beatrice Mastrogiovanni Tasca Filargeri di Cutò.

"Ero un ragazzo cui piaceva la solitudine, cui piaceva di più stare con le cose che con le persone"

(I was a boy who liked solitude, who liked more being around things than around people)

In 1915 he matriculates in Law School in Rome but he is called almost immediately to the army and he is captured by the Austrohungarian troops after the ignominous disaster of Caporetto. He escapes and returns home on foot, after many adventures.

In the following years he studies foreign literature and publishes some essays.

In 1932 he marries Alexandra Wolff - Stomersee, an extraordinary woman of her own. She was the daughter of the famous opera singer Alice Barbi (who was a close friend of Clara Schumman and Johannes Brahms) and of Boris Wolff - Stomersee, a Latvian baron of Hanseatic German descent, and she became the first woman psychoanalyst in Italy.



During the Second World War, the family Palace in Palermo was destroyed by Allied bombing raids with B-24 Liberator bombers (which local newspapers called "gangsters of the sky").

In 1954 he begins to write Il Gattopardo.

The novel reflects the many social changes that Tomasi witnessed in his life, through the mirror of the Italian Risorgimento.

However, its main appeal to me is the elegy to the lost splendour of the old nobility because of the irresponsibility, bad management and the various misfortunes that befell the nobles of a decadent, obsolete monarchy, that of The Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.

(In a future post I will speak more of my thoughts about this wonderful novel and the movie made out of it by Visconti).

Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa died of lung cancer on 23 July 1957, and was entombed five days later in the Tomasi family grave at the Capuccini cemetery of Palermo.

Having led a life of alternating suffering and decadent idleness,with few works to his credit, Giuseppe Tomasi managed to extract that one novel that vindicated himself as a man of the Letters and the Arts.

However, he was not to know this. Il Gattopardo was rejected twice, once by Mondadori ed. and once by Einaudi ed., so it was published by House Feltrinelli posthumusly in 1958.

In the end:

"Noi fummo i Gattopardi, i Leoni; quelli che ci sostituiranno saranno gli sciacalletti, le iene; e tutti quanti Gattopardi, sciacalli e pecore continueremo a crederci il sale della terra."

(We were the Leopards, the Lions; those that will come in our place will be the petty jackals, the hyenas; and the whole lot, Leopards, jackals and sheep, will continue to believe that we are the salt of the earth - trnsl. by me).