UMBERTO ECO : THE PRAGUE CEMETERY Read online

  In the meantime, the momentous year of 1860 had arrived — momentous for the country, though not yet for me. I followed events from a distance, listening to idle café gossip. Sensing that I ought to become more closely involved in political matters, I realized the most attractive news to fabricate would be what these idle minds were expecting, rather than what the newspapers reported as solid fact.

  Thus I came to hear that the inhabitants of the Grand Duchy of Tuscany, the Duchy of Modena and the Duchy of Parma had deposed their rulers, that the so-called papal legations of Emilia and Romagna had broken away from papal control and that they all wanted to be annexed to the Kingdom of Piedmont. In April 1860, insurrections broke out in Palermo; Mazzini wrote to the heads of the revolt that Garibaldi would be coming to their aid; and it was rumored that Garibaldi was looking for men, money and arms for his expedition and that the Bourbon navy was already crossing the waters of Sicily to prevent an enemy expedition.

  "Did you know Cavour is using one of his most trusted men, La Farina, to keep Garibaldi under control?"

  "What do you mean? The minister has approved a subscription for the purchase of twelve thousand rifles for Garibaldi's men."

  "In any case, the distribution was stopped, and by whom? By the Royal Carabineers!"

  "But please, oh please! Cavour, far from stopping it, helped with the distribution."

  "Quite so! Except that they're not the fine Enfield rifles Garibaldi was expecting, but bits of old scrap metal. Our hero will be lucky if they're any use even for shooting skylarks!"

  "I've been told by someone at the royal palace, mentioning no names, that La Farina has given Garibaldi eight thousand lire and a thousand rifles."

  "Yes, but there should have been three thousand, and two thousand have been kept back by the governor of Genoa."

  "Why Genoa?"

  "Because you don't expect Garibaldi to go to Sicily on the back of a mule. He's signed a contract for the purchase of two ships, which should be sailing from Genoa or thereabouts. And you know who's guaranteed the debt? The Masons, or to be more precise, a lodge in Genoa."

  "What lodge are you talking about? Freemasonry is an invention of the Jesuits!"

  "You'd best keep quiet — you're a Mason and everyone knows it!"

  "We'll pass over that one . . . Anyway, I happen to know from a reliable source that those present at the signing of the contract," and here his voice fell to a whisper, "were Avvocato Riccardi and General Negri di Saint Front."

  "And who the hell are they?"

  "You don't know?" His voice dropped lower still. "They are the heads of the Department of Secret Affairs, or rather, the State Department for Political Surveillance, which is the information service for the head of the government. They are powerful — more important than the prime minister himself. That's who they are, far from being Masons!"

  "Really? Of course, it's quite possible to be a member of the secret service as well as a Freemason — indeed it helps."

  * * *

  "What lodge are you talking about? Freemasonry is an

  invention of the Jesuits!" "You'd best keep quiet — you're a

  Mason and everyone knows it!"

  * * *

  On the 5th of May it became public knowledge that Garibaldi and a thousand volunteers had left by sea on their way to Sicily. No more than ten of them were from Piedmont, and they included foreigners and a large number of lawyers, doctors, pharmacists, engineers and landowners. Few of them were ordinary folk.

  On the 11th of May, Garibaldi's ships landed at Marsala. And on whose side was the Bourbon navy? It was apparently intimidated by two British ships moored in the port, officially there to protect the interests of their fellow countrymen who had a flourishing trade in fine Marsala wine. Or were the English helping Garibaldi?

  In short, within a few days Garibaldi's Thousand (as they were now known) had routed the Bourbons at Calatafimi and grown in number, thanks to the arrival of local volunteers. Garibaldi proclaimed himself dictator of Sicily in the name of Vittorio Emanuele II, and by the end of the month Palermo had been captured.

  And France? What did France have to say? France seemed to be watching cautiously, but one Frenchman, the great novelist Alexandre Dumas, at that time more famous than Garibaldi, rushed to join the liberators in his private yacht, the Emma, carrying with him money and arms.

  In Naples, Francesco II, the unfortunate king of the Two Sicilies, already fearful that Garibaldi's men had won in various places because his generals had betrayed him, hastened to grant amnesty to political prisoners and to reintroduce the constitution of 1848 that had been repealed, but it was too late and riots broke out even in his capital.

  It was during the first days of June that I received a note from Cavalier Bianco, telling me to wait that same day at midnight for a carriage that would pick me up at my office. An unusual appointment, but I sensed an interesting opportunity, and at midnight, sweating in the stifling heat that was tormenting the city at the time, I waited in front of my office. Soon a closed carriage arrived with curtains drawn, and inside was a man I did not know. He drove me somewhere not far, it seemed, from the center — indeed I had the impression the carriage may have passed two or three times along the same streets.

  It stopped in the dilapidated courtyard of an old tenement block, which was all a jumble of loose balustrades. Here I was shown through a small doorway and down a long corridor, at the end of which another small door led to the entrance hall of a building of very different character. We had reached the foot of a wide staircase but did not go up it and instead took a small flight of steps at the far end of the hallway. It brought us to a room with walls lined in damask, a large portrait of the king on the far wall, and a table covered with green baize around which four people sat, one of whom was Cavalier Bianco, who introduced me to the others. No one shook hands, limiting themselves to a nod.

  "Please be seated, Avvocato Simonini. The gentleman to your right is General Negri di Saint Front, to your lefthere is Avvocato Riccardi, and before you Professor Boggio, parliamentary deputy for Valenza Po."

  From the rumors I'd heard in the bars, I realized the first two characters were in charge of the State Department for Political Surveillance and who (vox populi) had helped Garibaldi's men to buy their two famous ships. As for the third, I recognized his name: Boggio was a journalist, a professor of law already by the age of thirty, a parliamentary deputy and one of Cavour's closest advisers. He had a ruddy face with a fine pair of whiskers, a monocle as large as the base of a glass and the air of the most inoffensive man in the world. But the deference shown to him by the other three was clear evidence of his power in the government.

  Negri di Saint Front was the first to speak: "My dear Avvocato Simonini, being well aware of your ability to gather information, as well as your prudence and discretion in handling it, we would like to send you on a mission of great delicacy to the territories recently conquered by General Garibaldi. You needn't worry — we don't propose asking you to march the Redshirts into battle. It's a question of obtaining information. So that you're aware exactly what information the government is interested in obtaining, we are obliged to entrust you with what I have no hesitation in describing as state secrets. You will therefore understand the need for great caution from this evening onward, until the end of your mission and beyond. This is also — how shall I say — to ensure your own personal safety, about which, naturally, we are most concerned."

  He could hardly have been more diplomatic. Saint Front was most concerned about my health and for this reason was warning me that if I started telling others what I was about to hear, I'd be putting my health in serious jeopardy. But this introduction enabled me to imagine what I stood to gain, considering the importance of the mission. With a respectful nod of assent, I invited Saint Front to continue.

  "No one can explain it better than Professor Boggio, whose position allows him access to information and instructions from the highest source, to which he
is very close. Please continue, Professor."

  "You see, Avvocato Simonini," Boggio began, "no one in Piedmont admires that generous, upright man General Garibaldi more than I do. What he has achieved in Sicily, with a handful of courageous men, against one of the best armies in Europe, is miraculous."

  This introduction was enough to make me think that Boggio was Garibaldi's worst enemy, but I preferred to keep my silence.

  "Yet," Boggio continued, "though it is true that Garibaldi has assumed dictatorship over the territories he has conquered in the name of our king, Vittorio Emanuele II, the person behind him does not support this decision at all. Mazzini is hanging over him, breathing down his neck, anxious to ensure that the great insurrection in the south leads to the creation of a republic. And we know the great persuasive power of this fellow Mazzini, who, comfortably ensconced abroad, has already persuaded many foolish men to go to their deaths. Among the general's most intimate collaborators are Crispi and Nicotera — Mazzinians through and through. They are a bad influence on a man like the general, a man incapable of seeing malice in others. Let us be clear: Garibaldi will soon reach the Strait of Messina and continue across into Calabria. The man is a shrewd strategist, his volunteers are enthusiastic, and many islanders have joined them, out of either patriotism or opportunism. And many Bourbon generals have already proven to be such poor commanders that some suggest their military prowess has been compromised by secret payments. It is not for us to say whom we suspect to be the author of such payments. Certainly not our government. Sicily is now in the hands of Garibaldi, and if Calabria and Naples were also to fall, then the general, with the support of Mazzini's republicans, would have the resources of a kingdom of nine million inhabitants at their disposal and, being surrounded by an irresistible popular prestige, he would be stronger than our own sovereign. In order to avoid such a disaster our sovereign has only one possibility: to head south with our army, passing, not without some difficulty, through the Papal States and arriving in Naples before Garibaldi. Is that clear?"

  "Yes. But I don't see how I —"

  "Wait just a moment. Garibaldi's expedition has been inspired by feelings of patriotism, but to intervene in order to control it, or shall I say neutralize it, we must be able to show, through well-grounded rumors and newspaper articles, that the whole venture has been compromised by people who are unreliable and corrupt, thereby creating the need for Piedmont to step in."

  "In short," said Avvocato Riccardi, who had not yet spoken, "our task is not to undermine confidence in Garibaldi's expedition but to weaken support for the revolutionary administration that has followed it. Count Cavour is sending La Farina to Sicily. That great Sicilian patriot has spent many years in exile and should therefore enjoy Garibaldi's trust. But at the same time he has been our government's faithful collaborator as well as the founder of the Italian National Society, which supports the annexation of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies into a united Italy. La Farina has been appointed to investigate some very disturbing rumors. It would seem that Garibaldi, out of good faith and ineptitude, is establishing a government that is the negation of all government. Clearly the general cannot control everything. His honesty is beyond doubt. But in whose hands is he leaving public affairs? Cavour is waiting for a full report from La Farina about possible misappropriation of public funds, but Mazzini's men will do all they can to keep him away from the people, by which I mean, those segments of the population from whom it is easiest to gather up-todate news about any scandals."

  "In any event, our department trusts La Farina only to a certain extent," added Boggio. "Not that I wish to be critical, far from it, but he's also Sicilian — fine people, no doubt, but different from us, don't you think? You will have a letter of introduction to La Farina, and can obtain his assistance, but you'll have greater freedom to move around. And you'll not be required simply to gather documented facts, but (as you have done on previous occasions) to fabricate them when they are lacking."

  "And in what manner and under what capacity shall I travel there?"

  "As usual, we have thought of everything," said Bianco with a smile. "Monsieur Dumas, whom you will know by name as a celebrated novelist, is about to reach Garibaldi in Palermo, sailing in his own yacht, the Emma. We are not entirely sure what he intends to do down there. Perhaps he simply wants to write a few fictional stories about Garibaldi's expedition, or perhaps he is a vain man seeking to flaunt his friendship with the hero. Whatever it is, we know that in two days' time he will be stopping offin Sardinia, in the bay at Arzachena, and therefore on our own doorstep. You will set offtomorrow morning for Genoa and board our vessel for Sardinia, where you will join Dumas, carrying a letter of introduction signed by someone to whom Dumas is greatly indebted and whom he trusts. You will appear as a correspondent for the newspaper edited by Professor Boggio, sent to Sicily to celebrate Dumas' enterprise as well as that of Garibaldi. In this way, you will be part of the novelist's entourage and will land with him in Palermo. Arriving in Palermo with Dumas will give you prestige and place you beyond suspicion, which would not be the case if you arrived alone. Then you can mingle with the volunteers and with the local people. Another letter from a well-known and respected person will provide you with an introduction to one of Garibaldi's young officers, Captain Nievo, whom Garibaldi has apparently appointed deputy quartermaster general. It is believed that on the departure of the Lombardo and the Piemonte, the two ships that took Garibaldi to Marsala, he was entrusted with fourteen thousand of the ninety thousand lire that made up the expedition's funds. We are not sure why he appointed Nievo to carry out this administrative duty. We are told he is a man of letters, and it seems he has a reputation for being a most upright man. He will be delighted to talk with someone who writes for the newspapers and presents himself as a friend of the famous Dumas."

  The rest of the evening was spent agreeing on the technical aspects of the undertaking and on the question of payment. The following day I closed the office indefinitely, gathered together a few essential odds and ends and, by some stroke of inspiration, took with me the cassock that Father Bergamaschi had left at my grandfather's house and which I had salvaged before everything had been handed over to the creditors.

  7

  WITH THE THOUSAND

  29th March 1897

  I don't know whether I could have recalled all those events, and especially what I felt, during my travels in Sicily between June 1860 and March 1861, had it not been for a bundle of dog-eared papers I found yesterday evening while rummaging through some old documents in the bottom of a bureau downstairs in the shop. There I had noted down what had happened, and I had probably written them as a rough draft of a more detailed report for my paymasters in Turin. The notes are incomplete, and I obviously recorded only what I thought was relevant, or wanted to seem relevant. What I might have left out I do not know.

  By the 6th of June I am on board the Emma. Dumas welcomed me with much cordiality. He was wearing a pale brown lightweight coat and looked unmistakably like the half-caste he was — olive skin, protruding, fleshy, sensual lips and a head of frizzy hair like an African savage. Otherwise he had a lively, wry expression, a pleasant smile and the rotund figure of a bon vivant . . . I remembered one of the many stories about him: some impudent young Parisian had made a malicious reference in his presence to the latest theories suggesting a link between primitive man and lower species. Dumas replied: "Yes, sir, I do indeed come from the monkey. But you, sir, are returning to one!"

  He introduced me to Captain Beaugrand, the second-in-command Brémond, the pilot Podimatas (a man as hirsute as a wild boar, his face so completely covered by hair and beard that he appeared to shave only the whites of his eyes) and, in particular, the cook Jean Boyer — Dumas seemed to regard the cook as the most important member of the crew. He traveled with a retinue, like some grand lord from the past.

  As he showed me to my cabin, Podimatas told me Boyer's speciality was asperges en petits pois, a curious recipe,
since peas were not among its ingredients.

  We rounded the island of Caprera, where Garibaldi hides out when he's not fighting.

  "You'll soon be meeting the general," said Dumas, and his face lit up with admiration at the mere mention of the man. "With his fair beard and blue eyes he seems like Jesus in Leonardo's Last Supper. His movements are full of elegance, his voice has an infinite gentleness. He seems an even-tempered man, but when the words 'Italy' and 'independence' are uttered you will see him stir like a volcano, with eruptions of fire and torrents of lava. He is never armed for combat; at the moment of action he draws the first saber he comes across, throwing aside the scabbard, and launches himself upon the enemy. He has only one weakness: he thinks he's a champion bowls player."

  Shortly afterward there was great commotion aboard. The sailors were about to haul up a large turtle of the kind to be found south of Corsica. Dumas was delighted.

  "There'll be work to do. First you have to turn it on its back. The turtle innocently stretches out its neck and you take advantage of its imprudence to cut off its head — thwack!—before hanging it by the tail to let it bleed for twelve hours. Then you turn it on its back again, insert a strong blade between the carapace and the breastplate, being very careful not to perforate the gallbladder, otherwise it becomes inedible. Remove the innards and retain only the liver — the transparent pulp inside serves no purpose, but there are two lobes that, because of their whiteness and their flavor, seem like two veal noisettes. Finally, remove the membranes, the neck and the flippers. Cut them into pieces the size of walnuts, leave them to soak, then add the pieces to a good broth, with pepper, cloves, carrot, thyme and a bay leaf, and cook together for three or four hours over low heat. In the meantime, prepare strips of chicken seasoned with parsley, chives and anchovy, cook them in boiling broth, then add them to the turtle soup, into which you've poured three or four glasses of dry Madeira. If you have no Madeira, you can use Marsala with a small glass of brandy or rum, though that would be second best, un pis-aller. We'll taste our soup tomorrow evening."