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Searching For Bernini

~ Musings on the Ecstasy of Italian Art and Culture

Searching For Bernini

Category Archives: Sicily

Fantasy Italian Dinner Party: Part 2—Anita Garibaldi

07 Sunday Jul 2013

Posted by SearchingForBernini in Art History, History, Italian History, Italian Life, Politics, Sicily, travel

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Anita Garibaldi, Brazil, Giuseppe Garibaldi, Italy, Politics of Italy, Rome, Travel

My first fantasy dinner guest—the imposing Olimpia Pamphilj—would no doubt be a fascinating, if intimidating, presence at the table, as I wrote in my earlier post. Imagining her questioning my second guest about her adventures, over pasta con sarde (sardines, a Sicilian fave) and a bottle of vino, makes me giddy.

Anita Garibaldi wasn’t Italian, but she married an Italian hero and fought bravely for her adopted country’s independence. I met her on the Gianicolo hill, overlooking Rome, where I’d taken a walking tour with the conversation exchange group, Friends In Rome. A daring adventuress, she’s revered as an Italian hero in her own right. Her dinner conversation would be gripping, filled with stories of war…and love.

Anita Garibaldi, circa 1839

Anita de Jesus Ribeiro, circa 1845 (painting by Gaetano Gallino)

Ana Maria de Jesus Ribeiro di Garibaldi, a dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty, was born in 1821, in the southern Brazilian town of Laguna, to a poor family of herdsmen and fishermen. Anita’s family arranged for her to marry at only 14 years old, but her new husband soon abandoned her to join the Imperial army.

The dashing sailor Garibaldi

The dashing sailor Garibaldi

Not long after, a dashing 30-year-old Italian sailor-turned- revolutionary, Giuseppe Garibaldi, showed up in her world, changing it forever.

Exiled from Italy in 1836 (along with several other Sicilian revolutionaries I wrote about in my Sobbing Women entry), Garibaldi proved to be a real military man. A restless fighter in search of a war, he joined a group of rebels struggling to preserve a separatist republic in Brazil. When he met the 16-year-old Anita, he reportedly told her, “You must be mine.” It didn’t take long for her to agree.

A skilled horsewoman, Anita joined Giuseppe in his revolutionary battles in Brazil. During a battle in Mostardas, as they fought for the independence of Rio Grande do sul Republic, Garibaldi was away from camp when they were attacked. Anita escaped by jumping on a horse—while carrying her first baby, born just a few days earlier; the couple would have three more—and galloping away. This memorial on the Gianicolo hill in Rome, created by sculptor Mario Rutelli, captures that moment:

Anita, on horseback, carrying her baby and brandishing a gun

Anita, on horseback, carrying her baby and brandishing a gun

At other points in her daring life, she even led some of Garibaldi’s troops out of danger, as depicted here…

Anita leading Garibaldi's troops away from danger

Anita leading Garibaldi’s troops away from danger

One of Garibaldi’s comrades described her as having “the strength and courage of a man and the charm and tenderness of a woman,” along with “extraordinary eyes,” so it was no mystery why Garibaldi fell so passionately in love with her.

She went with him to Montevideo, Uruguay, where they married.

Montevideo, Uruguay today

Montevideo, Uruguay today

Garibaldi took command of the Uruguayan fleet in 1842, raising an Italian legion to help Uruguay defend itself against the encroaching Argentine dictator Juan Manuel de Rosas. By all reports, Anita fought alongside her husband in several battles, brandishing her sword with “daring and vigor.”

In 1848, Anita and Giuseppe returned to Italy, where a new revolution was stirring, and a year later they fought for an independent, united Italy against French forces. But here’s where it becomes tragic.

The war turned in favor of the French and their troops pushed Garibaldi into the hills of Lazio outside of Rome. At this same time, Anita suffered a bout of malaria—fairly common, and deadly, at that time. On the run, without adequate food and rest in the summer heat, and pregnant with their fifth child, Anita was fading fast.

Garibaldi carrying his dying Anita through the swamps of Comacchio (oil on canvas), Bauvier, Pietro (1839-1927) / Museo del Risorgimento, Brescia, Italy / The Bridgeman Art Library

Garibaldi carrying his dying Anita through the swamps of Comacchio (oil on canvas), Bauvier, Pietro (1839-1927) / Museo del Risorgimento, Brescia, Italy / The Bridgeman Art Library

Garibaldi must have been desperately worried as he carried her in his arms to a farm near Ravenna—a romantic scene captured in many paintings like the one above. With the French close on their heels, they’d finally found a doctor, but Anita was so weak from the malaria that it was too late, and she died with Giuseppe by her side on August 4, 1849.

Garibaldi, who saw his dream of a united Italy come true, seems to never have forgotten his lost love. In 1860, when he rode out to hail Victor Emanuel II as king of the new republic, he wore Anita’s scarf over his South American poncho.

She’s surely a woman worth inviting to dinner—and remembering.

Anita_Garibaldi_Photo_BW

Anita

Ciao!

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Sobbin’ Women: Sicilian Tombs

13 Thursday Jun 2013

Posted by SearchingForBernini in Art, Art History, Bernini, Italian History, Italian Life, Sicily, travel, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Baroque, Francesco Crispi, Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Giuseppe Garibaldi, Italy, Palermo, Rome, Sicily, Travel

Tomb in San Domenico, Palermo

Tomb in San Domenico, Palermo

Tell you about them sobbin’ women
Who lived in the Roman days…
Oh, yes, them women were sobbin’
Sobbin’, sobbin’ buckets of tears
Mighty sad!

—“Seven Brides for Seven Brothers”
lyrics by Johnnie Mercer

Ever since I visited Sicily, this song from the übersexist but irresistible 1954 movie musical “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” has been going through my head. As much as I’d prefer “O Sole Mio” or some other appropriately Italian earworm, this is what I got. Here’s why…

San Domenico

San Domenico cathedral, Palermo

Arriving in late May, we visited the church of San Domenico, a baroque cathedral that, like many buildings in Palermo, looks a little run-down and rugged on the outside. Inside, however, we found a treasure trove of Sicilian history.

This cathedral is where many of Palermo’s noblemen and famous artists are buried, and each of the tributes, created by different artists, depicts a beautiful woman crying, mourning or generally mooning the guy buried there. Each figure has a romantic, ethereal and adoring vibe, but also a kind of trashy-novel sexiness that I just couldn’t resist. (Unfortunately, I couldn’t ID the one above.)

I started humming “Sobbin’ Women” (aka Sabine women) and wondering who these guys were who wanted to have gorgeous young women adoring them for eternity (what man doesn’t, I suppose). Clearly they were men of means, but were these women glorified representations of their wives? Or mistresses? Or just symbolic representations of some facet of the men’s lives? I really hoped it was the former, because how fun would that be?

I started researching. And now I wish I’d had a more detailed guidebook to tell me about these tombs when I was snapping the pics. Still, rather than sobbing buckets of tears about that, I wrote this down. So, here you go: Six “brides” for six Italian brothers-in-arms (or not) from Palermo, and beyond…

1. A Lover and a Fighter: Rosolino Pilo, 1820-1860

Rossolino Pino

Rossolino Pino

Pilo was a suave Sicilian revolutionary who had been torn between love of country and love for a woman. A younger son in a noble family, he’d initially been set to join the church but then opted to enter politics. The Bourbons ruled Sicily at the time and he got caught up in the 1848 fight for Sicilian independence. The revolution succeeded for sixteen months and he became part of the provisional government, which included a progressive constitution calling for a confederation of Italian states. But soon, the Bourbon army returned triumphant and Pilo fled Sicily, winding up in Genoa. And that’s where it gets juicy.

Terzaghi_F.lli_Lit._-_Rosolino_Pilo_-_litografia_-_1861

Che bello! Pilo circa 1861(Litografia edita dai Fratelli Terzaghi)

The social, handsome Pilo attended parties and balls and scandalously fell in love with another man’s wife, Rosetta Borlasca. According to letters he wrote to a friend about her, she was “an oasis for the outcast,” and he loved her madly. Her wedding band was about as much a deterrent as a red stoplight is to drivers today in Palermo—it’s only a suggestion! He wrote, “you know how it happens”: She had an arranged marriage; she doesn’t love the other guy; then one day she meets “a Sicilian with eyes of fire,” with ardor and elegance (if he does say so himself). If you were Rosetta, he asked his friend, what would you do?

Rosetta fell hard, and her husband’s rage knew no bounds. So inflamed was he that Rosetta’s father convinced Pilo to retreat to Nice to let things settle down. But before he did, the husband sent Pilo an insulting letter—calling the revolutionary hero a coward and a villain—and demanding satisfaction with a duel. But the husband never showed up. Rosetta promised her fuming father that she wouldn’t see Pilo anymore, and eventually Pilo got caught up again in Sicilian independence fighting. Their passionate love expressed itself only through their letters. She begged him not to go to war. He professed his undying love—then went to war.

When the Italian general Giuseppe Garibaldi landed in Palermo with his troops, Pilo was among them. And he fought until he was killed in a dramatic hail of bullets when Bourbon troops surprised the guerillas he led on the mountains of Monreale, near Palermo. Francesco Crispi, who became the premiere of the united Italy, recounted his death in a letter: “a ball struck him in the head, and [he] fell without being able to utter a word.” Garibaldi ensured that Pilo’s funeral would be paid for by the state. Nobody knows what became of Rosetta. Perhaps she’s looking over his tomb.

2. A Romantic Poet: Guiseppe de Spuches, 1819-1884

Giuseppe de Spuches

Giuseppe de Spuches

I was an English major, so I probably should’ve heard of Guiseppe, a Sicilian poet—but I hadn’t. And it turns out Google hasn’t either! Although I searched for some info on his life, what I found was that he was likely married to Giuseppina Turrisi Colonna (I can only hope he loved her as madly as Pino loved Rosetta).

I also found his poems. And he definitely had a romantic temperament. His poems are titled, “For Her,” “Loneliness,”  “The Dove,” among many others.

“Loneliness” begins:

Virgin beautiful and dear,
The white pallor of her cheeks,
Oh! How melancholy,
Your face sculpts the altar of my heart!

Or something like that. My Italian isn’t quite up to translating 19th-century romantic poetry.

The woman looking lovingly over his grave is likely the muse of poetry.

3. A Scholar and Politician: Domenico Lofaso Pietrasanta di Serradifalco, 1783-1863

Serradifalco

Serradifalco

Say that name three times fast. The weeping woman on his grave isn’t quite so sexy, and since he was an architect, scholar and wrote several books about ancient and medieval Sicilian monuments, she’s probably a muse. Serradifalco, too, came from a noble Sicilian family, and studied architecture and archeology in Milan. After the 1848 revolution and for the brief period Sicily gained independence, he served as Speaker of Peers in the parliament and the country’s foreign minister.

Like Pilo, he was forced into exile after the Bourbons returned, and he fled to Florence. But when Garibaldi liberated Sicily, he returned to become President of the Commission of Antiquities and Fine Art.

On his tomb it reads: “He promoted Sicilian arts and letters with his mind and his inheritance.” So he put his money where his mouth was.

4. A Lover of Dante: Francesco Paolo Perez, 1812-1892

F. P. Perez

F. P. Perez

I love this lady, sculpted by Domenico Delisi, and I like to think she’s Beatrice, from Dante’s Divine Comedy. Information is scarce (online!) about Perez’s love life, but Beatrice definitely played a part—Perez was a Dante scholar.

The Salutation of Beatrice, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

The Salutation of Beatrice, by Dante Gabriel Rossetti

I discovered that the F.P. on the tomb stands for Francesco Paolo, and that he was a mayor of Palermo. He, too, was involved in the 1848 revolution. Like the other men, he went into exile and returned to a political career in Palermo after 1860, becoming the Minister of Education. He wrote several books related to Dante, including The First Allegory and Purpose of the Divine Comedy and one titled Beatrice Unveiled.

From Palermo, we traveld through Sicily and wound up in Catania, where we found another interesting tomb:

5. An Opera Maestro: Vincenzo Bellini, 1801-1835

Vincenzo Bellini

Vincenzo Bellini

Here’s one man I had heard of: Vincenzo Bellini, an opera composer whose works are still performed today—the Metropolitan Opera includes three in the coming season, “La Sonnambula,” “I Puritani” and “Norma.” (See Anna Netrebko in a clip singing from “La Sonnambula” here.)

Bellini had been a child prodigy (just like my 400-year-old boyfriend Bernini). Legend has it he began studying music theory at age two, piano at three and wrote his first works at the age of six. It’s a good thing he got started so early because, sadly, he died at 33 from an acute inflammation of the intestine.

Vincenzo_belliniApparently he was quite a dandy, and the woman on his grave is obviously the muse (or angel) of music, because: 1.) she has wings; and 2.) Bellini, reportedly, was gay. His “central relationship” was with Francesco Florimo, and after Bellini’s death, one source I read says Florimo, a music historian, was treated as Bellini’s “spiritual heir,” whatever that means!

6. Tragic Knowledge: Cardinal Domenico Pimentel, 1584-1653

Cardinal Domenico Pimentel

Cardinal Domenico Pimentel

Though this isn’t from Sicily—it’s found in Santa Maria sopra Minerva in Rome—the tomb of Spanish cardinal Pimentel is one of my favorites because Gian Lorenzo Bernini created the original design—although other artists carried out the production of the work.

Sad Knowledge

Sad Knowledge

No scandalous love life for the cardinal that I could find, so the sarcophagus is adorned with four allegorical figures: Charity, Justice, Knowledge and Faith, with the deceased Cardinal kneeling on top. But just look at the figure on the right (I think that’s Knowledge), sobbing with her hands over her face.

The anguish is palpable. Even in a work ultimately produced by other artists, Bernini’s ability to depict emotion that reaches out and grabs you by the throat is astounding.

Just when I was wondering where the women’s tombs are with hottie men standing over them, guess what I found? Also in Santa Maria sopra Minerva, hidden in a dark corner near the entrance is the tomb of Virginia Pucci.

Virginia Pucci

Virginia Pucci

Who was Virginia? Well…I can’t find anything about her online so until I dig a little deeper, she’s a 16th-century noblewoman, with lots of cherubs mourning her passing (no life-size weeping men for her).

I know what figure I wouldn’t mind overlooking my sarcophagus someday (a really, really long time from now)…

Bernini's David

Bernini’s David

Ciao!

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