A Rebel In Love. Cristiano Parafioriti

the State Archives of Palermo, to the Regional Library, to the Episcopal Curia; at some point, I was forced to rent a room at the Panormos B&B, a few steps from the Politeama Theatre.

      It was from there that, every morning, I looked for some news, some clue, grasping onto the little historical information in the diary. With only a few days left before my return to Lombardy, I never got a break. I quickly set up a vast research network through my contacts in the field of old books and post-Risorgimento Sicilian history.

      Rachele Borghese could not take much more of me. She was the young owner of Le pagine d'incanto, in Chiaramonte Gulfi, an antique book shop of which I was and still am an affectionate customer and which on many occasions had supplied me with rare and curious texts on Sicilian history.

      I shyly confess that I stressed poor Rachele at all hours of the day and, in some cases, even at night to get news about possible bibliographic discoveries on the subject. I aroused – I imagine – the wrath and antipathy of the young husband to whom I promised to give a copy of this text as a present, together with a bottle of new olive oil from my land, an apology for my pressing demands.

      I entrusted the IT investigation instead to my brotherly friend Salvo Lecce, who spent many nights in Milan on online archives, regional OPACs, and inter-library services searching for data or texts that might be helpful to me. The nightmare was back. I took again a path bristling with brambles and nettles, but this time it was not the rage of a wild sow that was chasing me but the thirst for truth.

      I only hoped that I would not slip again because I knew perfectly well how treacherous the ground of history was.

      A DIFFERENT GOSPEL

      The hidden diary was preceded, in turn, by a short incipit written by a female hand:

      Sister Clara Rosa,

      Abbess of the Convent of Santa Agatha of the Daughters of Santa Clara of Assisi in the town of Galati, at the dawn of this new year 1866 AD., I place here the writings that I was given to keep, in memory of the courageous deeds of Giovanni Darco. He was condemned in absentia by the laws of the Kingdom of Italy for rebelry, sedition and desertion, murder and theft, and gang robbery since 1863 and still vehemently wanted in these mountains and elsewhere.

      Like a dear and secret son, I take care to keep it as an everlasting testimony of the real facts that happened and that I understood through direct words and also through the words of others as they really happened and not as history has written, keeping my word to hand down the memory of a human battle of a son of this land of Galati, that bravely opposed the new occupation of old masters, that now threaten also our sacred vows and ecclesiastical institutions, without fear of human judgment and even more of that of God to which they will one day submit unavoidably.

      It happened that in the past year, around the third ten days of April the Bersaglieri⁶ posted in the streets of this city and around it an edict announcing the final liberation of the Nebrodi Mountains from the band of the rebel Giovanni Darco. He had kept at bay the military of the new kingdom for more than two years, at the point to require the presence on the island of a military delegation from Piedmont.

      This dispatch, published widely and posted as a threat and a warning on the walls of all the towns in the district, read:

      “The Royal Delegation congratulates the Royal Carabinieri, the Bersaglieri, and all the faithful and honest people who, since the birth of the rogue band of outlaws headed by the rebel Giovanni Darco and created by him, have served the Sovereign King and the Constituted Authority. The perseverance and invaluable courage of the soldiers finally overcame the criminal gang nesting in the Nebrodi hills. The fugitives and their associates have until the end of the tenth day – from the date of this proclamation – and the opportunity to surrender unarmed and in peace. After this period has elapsed without success, the remaining perpetrators, and those of them who are subsequently arrested and sentenced will be sentenced to death by public hanging.”

      Even within these strong and sacred walls, the echoes of those words also displayed at the entrance of the Mother Church reached me, and, the following night, I recited a prayer for the victims' souls of both factions.

      A few days later, when the priests of some neighbouring churches had gathered at the Church of the Assumption⁷ and waters settled a little, Don Nofrio Cletofonte, archpriest of Nicosia, also a wanted man, sneaked up on me and, asking to see me – to my astonishment –, placed this diary in my hands, affirming that I was chosen by God and the author to receive, keep and protect it. Eight days later, the archpriest was taken by the Bersaglieri and shot in the public square with twelve other rebels. I guarded this booklet with delight and curiosity and read it all in one breath in my room.

      Now that I fear for my life and feel my end near, I have decided to protect it here, hidden among the letters to the Galatians, as tracers of the real events that took place in the land of Galàti, of a brave fight for freedom, hoping that one day it will be held in honest hands. They will finally bear immortal witness to the light of truth against the sad darkness of lies.

      It suddenly became clear that this opening had been written by the same hand that had affixed the handwritten note on all the other volumes – Sor Clara Rosa Girgentani Custos Veritatis. Then in Tome X had indicated how to unravel the mystery by inserting that verse of St. Paul, hidden by the scroll. Sister Rosa wanted to draw attention to that work – Sacred Scripture is just the vulgate –, and then direct interest precisely to the Letter to the Galatians and then to the diary that she had so skilfully concealed.

      It was clear that this booklet had been the object of a ruthless hunt, and I immediately began to read it hungrily. It was, as mentioned, a diary written by Giovanni Darco (or D'Arco), the rebel at the head of the reckless group, which was the subject of the edict referred to by the nun in the beginning.

      I did not immediately realise what testimony I had in my hands. And yet, for a moment, I had the same impression and felt the same emotion as when, as a child, after a heavy snowfall, I was preparing, with immense privilege, to be the first to run through fresh, soft, unexplored snow.

      As I read on, I also found some letters. I realised on reading them that they were only copies. There were scratches and erasures, some words had been replaced with others, some parts had been completely erased, and there were small additions here and there. I soon realised that the letters that delivered to the addressee (the noblewoman Eufemia Celesti) had obviously been copied in good style and on a different sheet of paper, so much so that after each rough copy, I noticed the tearing of the following pages. The ones where the letter had probably been transcribed in fair copy.

      I was surprised to learn that Giovanni Darco, a rebel who had gone into hiding at a very young age, was incredibly well educated. In those days, illiteracy was common; many rebels did not even know how to read their bounty or even their names posted on the walls of towns and villages as wanted men. This man, on the contrary, had good language skills, and I soon discovered how he learned.

      During my stay in Palermo, Rachele Borghese had a large package sent to me by express parcel containing a General Formulary of all Judicial Acts by Luigi Tirrito, published in Palermo in 1859, an impressive Collection of the Laws and Royal Decrees of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies, issued for the adjustment of the Real estate Registry office in Sicily drawn up in Palermo in 1856, the Statutes of the Civil Administration in Sicily of 1857 and above all The Proclamations of the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies conquered by Garibaldi and subsequent edicts, published by the Fibreno Printing House in Naples in 1862.

      Rachele was unable to find anything on the personal events of the rebel Giovanni Darco, but studying the Bourbon laws and Garibaldi's subsequent pro-dictatorship decrees helped me understanding the legislative, social and human context in which these events took place.

      Surprisingly, however, the biggest news came from Calogero Bau. I had involved him – without any commitment and with little hope – in the search for any personal records concerning Giovanni Darco without being able to offer him any information other