Roman era graffiti found on Colosseum

Roman era graffiti found on Colosseum

Graffiti dating from the Roman era has been found scrawled on the walls of the Colosseum during restoration work.

By Nick Squires, Rome

10 January 2013

Restorers also discovered fragments of brightly coloured frescoes, suggesting that the ancient monument was gaudily decorated when it hosted gladiatorial fights and wild animal hunts under the emperors.

The fragments – in ochre, red, blue and green – are in stark contrast to the monochrome grey and white of the travertine marble that covers the facade of the amphitheatre today.

The graffiti includes hard-to-decipher words and symbols as well as two large phalluses – possibly an erotic representation, or perhaps just lewd scribbling.

The new discoveries were made on the third and highest level of the Colosseum, which is closed to the public.

They are spread out over a 200ft-long section of a covered tunnel which would have funnelled spectators to their seats high above the arena.

The coloured frescoes were "an extraordinary discovery", said Rossella Rea, who is in charge of the landmark in the centre of Rome.

"We weren't expecting to find them. There is still a great deal to be studied and there will almost certainly be other surprises."

The frescoes would have been "rich and elaborate" in colour and detail, said Ida Simonelli, the head of the restoration team.

A £22 million restoration of the Colosseum, to be funded by Diego Della Valle, the multi-millionaire founder of the Tod's shoe empire, is scheduled to begin within weeks.

It will be the most comprehensive restoration effort in more than 70 years and is expected to take two years.

The project, which will entail removing decades of grime from the facade of the Colosseum, will take place in phases so that the amphitheatre can remain open to visitors.

The privately-funded work, which has been delayed by months of bureaucracy, is being seen as a model for the sponsoring of other ancient sites in Italy, including Pompeii.

Source from The Telegraph

La Partenza dei Bersaglieri da Napoli

La Domenica del Corriere

13 December 1914

La Partenza dei Bersaglieri da Napoli: Partenza dell'eroico 11° bersaglieri da Napoli per Ancona: signore e popolane infiorano i soldati nel piazzale della stazione.

Un Matrimonio Movimentato

La Domenica del Corriere

18 maggio 1958

UN MATRIMONIO MOVIMENTATO: Un giovane di parola. Alla vigilia delle nozze Francesco D., abitante in una borgata della Valle Imagna, scese a Bergamo per ritirare il braccialetto che doveva offrire alla fidanzata. Sulla via del ritorno fu investito da un camion. Raggiunse la propria casa. Il mattino dopo, abbondantemente bendato, il giovane, per non mancare alla parola data, si presentò in chiesa. E qui attese la propria sposa. Questa, vedendolo così conciato, svenne. Quando riprese i sensi, la cerimonia ebbe luogo. Il sacerdote benedisse le nozze e si compiacque con Francesco per la forza d'animo.

AN EVENTFUL WEDDING: A young man of his word. On the eve of the wedding of Francesco D., living in a township of the Imagna Valley, went to Italy to pick up the bracelet to be offered to his girlfriend. On the way back he was hit by a truck. He reached his home. The next morning, heavily bandaged, the youth, not to break his word, went to church. And here was waiting his own wife. This, seeing the state he was in, she fainted. When he recovered consciousness, the ceremony took place. The priest blessed the wedding and was pleased with Francesco's fortitude.

Please excuse the TERRIBLE translation, my Italian is still not very good! But I thought the story was too great not to share in English.

Rome by Valentino

Palazzo Mignanelli, Valentino at his atelier, Palazzo Mignanelli in the centre of Rome

In an article for The Telegraph Travel, Italian fashion designer Valentino writes about the city of Rome.

Rome by Valentino

The fashion designer Valentino pays homage to Rome, the Italian city that inspired him.

Valentino Garavani

30 November 2012

'I moved to Rome in 1958. It’s become my city; it’s as if I was born there. I loved it right from the start. One of the things I like most about it is that it’s the perfect passeggiata city — a city you can get the measure of by simply walking around.

Its monuments, its churches, its streets and piazzas and cobbled lanes unroll before you; you’re surrounded by movement and colour. You go to Trastevere and everyone’s talking in broad Roman dialect, as if in a film starring Alberto Sordi about la vecchia Roma. The whole of humanity is here; in the same street you’ll find shopkeepers alongside aristocrats in their grand, crumbling palazzos. This contrast has an incredible charm, and it’s something you don’t find everywhere in Italy.

So I was immediately fascinated by the city. And of course it has a marvellous climate, and a special quality of light. For a fashion designer, Rome is full of inspiration: there’s a special feeling in the light, the colours, the art, the architecture. I don’t know if the warm reds and oranges that we associate with Roman exteriors influenced my famous “rosso Valentino” shade — they may well have done so subconsciously. But one thing that is undeniable is that I’ve always been obsessed by the search for classical beauty. How could it be otherwise, living in a place like Rome?

One thing I love in clothes, and try to reproduce in my work, is sinuosity: by which I mean clothes that caress the body but also move and float with the person who’s wearing them. Rome is full of movement – it’s a very sinuous city. Think of the Roman Baroque: all those curls and curves that you find carved on church facades. If you transport that into a different medium, a lighter medium, you can create marvellous forms.

I’ve always had my main atelier right in the centre of Rome, a stone’s throw from the Spanish Steps. When I arrived from my apprenticeship in Paris, I had a couture house in Via Condotti. When my business partner Giancarlo Giammetti started helping me we moved into an apartment in Via Gregoriana, then a few years later when space got too tight we moved around the corner into the 16th-century Palazzo Mignanelli.

First we took the whole top floor, then the floor below, then the floor below that – until we’d occupied the whole palazzo, which people now call Palazzo Valentino.

I get out and about in Rome less than I used to, but over the 50 years I’ve been there I’ve covered the length and breadth of the city. One street I love is Via Giulia and the lanes and squares that give on to it, like Renaissance-era Piazza Farnese, which is now the French Embassy. It’s such an elegant street, with its aristocratic palazzos and antique shops and boutiques.

Then there are the consular roads of Ancient Rome. My house is on the corner of the Appia Pignatelli and the Appia Antica, which went all the way down to Brindisi. When I moved there, Appia Pignatelli was a country lane; today it’s a busy road encroached on by ugly blocks of flats. But part of the Roman stretch of the Appia Antica is a no-traffic zone, and with its huge, worn paving stones it’s still a fascinating place where you really feel the spirit of Classical Rome. Maybe that’s why Elizabeth Taylor rented a house there when shooting Cleopatra at the Cinecittà film studios. Today it belongs to Franco Zeffirelli; we’re practically next-door neighbours.

I also love the sweeping view of the centro storico from the Gianicolo hill. And of course the Spanish Steps, which are simply extraordinary, with Bernini’s lovely Barcaccia fountain at the bottom.

I suppose all the places I’ve mentioned are very scenographic, sets just waiting for their actors. Which is why the haute couture fashion shows I organised for three years running on the Spanish Steps and in Piazza Mignanelli were so right for the location. The whole area between Via del Babuino and the Spanish Steps was packed with people; there were cameras swooping around on cranes, beautiful girls were making their entrances from piazza doors and gliding up and down the steps. I was proud to give this to Rome. If you think of those Baroque pageants they used to put on in Roman piazzas, it’s not that different.

But the show to end all shows was in 2007 for the 45th anniversary of my life in fashion. The mayor of Rome allowed us to use the Temple of Venus in the Forum, which is usually off limits to everyone but the Pope, who addresses the crowds from there during the Easter Via Crucis procession.

There were fireworks over the Colosseum and an aerial ballet. Dante Ferretti, who has won three Oscars for his production design, did the lighting, and helped build a Chinese pavilion in the Borghese Gardens for a dinner for 700 people. And we staged an unforgettable show in the old pilgrim hospital of Santo Spirito in Sassia, near the Vatican. The three-day extravaganza was my thank-you to the city; I wanted to give something back.

One of my favourite Roman restaurants – a real classic – is Al Moro, near the Trevi Fountain. It was one of Fellini’s favourite places to eat, too; he even gave the former owner a walk-on part in one of his films. I’m not a huge restaurant person – I’m just as happy eating at home or with friends – but when I do go I love these old-fashioned Roman restaurants with old-fashioned service; two others in the same style are Dal Bolognese in Piazza del Popolo and Nino in Via Borgognona, which is just along the road from my atelier.

Romans have always been happy-go-lucky types, good talkers, good eaters and drinkers. They’re more stressed than they used to be – but this is a worldwide thing. At heart, Rome is a vibrant, happy place.'

Tersicore per le strade di Vienna

La Domenica del Corriere

23 June 1929

Tersicore per le strade di Vienna: Tersicore nella strada. Una danza delle insegnanti di ballo, nel Corteo delle Industrie, che si è svolto in questi giorni a Vienna.

Ponte di Marisa

La Domenica del Corriere

2 February 1958

Un'insolita richiesta esaudita: Come in una fiaba. Nella letterina scritta alla Befana ai primi dello scorso gennaio, la piccola Marisa Leonzio, figlia di un agricoltore di Gorgo, frazione di Rosignano Solvay (Livorno), chiedeva che le regalassero un ponte, ma un ponte vero da gettare sul torrente Chioma che lei doveva attraversare ogni mattina per andare a scuola. Una casa cinematografica, venuta al corrente di questo, ha esaudito il suo desiderio e ha fatto costruire il ponte. E lei, gentile scolaretta, c'è passata per prima il giorno in cui, alla presenza delle autorità, lo si è inaugurato.

Life Magazine

3 February 1958

In Nibbiaia, Italy, Marisa Leonzio, 8, stood on a new bridge and waved as schoolmates clustered behind her. Marisa had to ford the stream every day on foot or oxcart to get to school. She wrote a fourth-grade composition about it which was printed in the papers. When he read it, an Italian film distributor had the bridge built, named Ponte di Marisa after her.

First Ever Etruscan Pyramids Found in Italy

I just read this intriguing article on Discovery News, about Etruscan pyramids discovered in Italy.

FIRST EVER ETRUSCAN PYRAMIDS FOUND IN ITALY

The pyramids were spotted by a series of ancient stairs that had been carved into the wall of what is now a wine cellar.

Rossella Lorenzi

Discovery News

18 September 2012

The subterranean pyramids found in Orvieto, Italy could offer a unique insight into the mysterious Etruscan culture. Stairs carved into the wall can be seen at left.

The first ever Etruscan pyramids have been located underneath a wine cellar in the city of Orvieto in central Italy, according to a team of U.S. and Italian archaeologists.

Carved into the rock of the tufa plateau --a sedimentary area that is a result of volcanic activity -- on which the city stands, the subterranean structures were largely filled. Only the top-most modern layer was visible.

"Within this upper section, which had been modified in modern times and was used as a wine cellar, we noticed a series of ancient stairs carved into the wall. They were clearly of Etruscan construction," David B. George of the Department of Classics at Saint Anselm, told Discovery News.

As they started digging, George and co-director of the excavation Claudio Bizzarri of the Parco Archeologico Ambientale dell'Orvietano noted that the cave's walls were tapered up in a pyramidal fashion. Intriguingly, a series of tunnels, again of Etruscan construction, ran underneath the wine cellar hinting to the possibility of deeper undiscovered structures below.

After going through a mid-20th century floor, George and Bizzarri reached a medieval floor. Immediately beneath this floor, they found a layer of fill that contained various artifacts such as Attic red figure pottery from the middle of the 5th Century B.C., 6th and 5th century B.C. Etruscan pottery with inscriptions as well as various objects that dated to before 1000 B.C.

Digging through this layer, the archaeologists found 5 feet of gray sterile fill, which was intentionally deposited from a hole in the top of the structure.

"Below that material there was a brown layer that we are currently excavating. Intriguingly, the stone carved stairs run down the wall as we continue digging. We still don't know where they are going to take us," Bizzarri told Discovery News.

The material from the deepest level reached so far (the archaeologists have pushed down about 10 feet) dates to around the middle of the fifth century B.C.

"At this level we found a tunnel running to another pyramidal structure and dating from before the 5th century B.C. which adds to the mystery," George said.

Indeed, the Etruscans have long been considered one of antiquity's greatest enigmas.

A fun-loving and eclectic people who among other things taught the French how to make wine, the Romans how to build roads, and introduced the art of writing to Europe, the Etruscans began to flourish in Etruria (an area in central Italy area that covered now are Tuscany, Latium, Emilia-Romagna and Umbria) around 900 B.C., and then dominated much of the country for five centuries.

Known for their art, agriculture, fine metalworking and commerce, they started to decline during the fifth century B.C., as the Romans grew in power. By 300-100 B.C., they eventually became absorbed into the Roman empire.

Their puzzling, non-Indo-European language was virtually extinguished and they left no literature to document their society. Indeed, much of what we know about them comes from their cemeteries: only the richly decorated tombs they left behind have provided clues to fully reconstruct their history.

The subterranean pyramids in Orvieto could offer a unique insight into this civilization as the structures appear to be unique.

"The caves have indeed a shape unknown elsewhere in Etruria," Larissa Bonfante, professor emerita of classics at New York University and a leading expert on the ancient Etruscans, told Discovery News.

According to Bizzarri, there are at least five Etruscan pyramids under the city. Three of these structures have yet to be excavated.

"Clearly, they are not quarries or cisterns. I would say that there is nothing like these structures on record anywhere in Italy," Bizzarri said.

According to George, the underground pyramids could represent some sort of a religious structure or a tomb. In both cases, it would be a discovery without precedent.

"Most likely, the answer waits at the bottom. The problem is we don't really know how much we have to dig to get down there," Bizzarri said.

Abruzzo, fiori freschi e messe in suffragio per l'anonimo che nessuno volle riconoscere

Corriere della Sera published this heartwarming article the other day, about a young man who was killed by a train fifteen years ago on the Ancona-Pescara line, near Roseto degli Abruzzi. No one knew who he was, and his identity has remained unknown. He was about thirty-five, of medium height, and with black curly hair. Wearing a green plaid jacket sized 48 and shoes size 42, he had no money or identification documents with him; his wallet held only a small comb and a prayer card of Our Lady of Loreto. He was completely disfigured by the train and it remains unknown as to whether the death was an accident or a suicide. However, there is a person, Ciro Fattore, who has made a headstone for the young man's grave, bringing fresh flowers each year.

Ciro Fattore, a Neopolitan, has lived in Roseto degli Abruzzi for a long time. Struck by the history of the anonymous man, and believing that he should also have his life commemorated, Fattore had a marble and brass plaque made for the grave at the municipal cemetery, which read, 'There is always a benefactor who is thinking of you.' Together with the collaboration of florist Gaetano Cinelli, also from Naples, the unknown man is brought fresh flowers almost every day. This year, Fattore and Cinelli, with the generosity of a local company and other citizens, are celebrating the anniversary of the young man's death with a memorial mass in the Church of the Sacred Heart. 'It was our way of remembering, and to make him feel less alone,' said Fattore.

Abruzzo, fiori freschi e messe in suffragio per l'anonimo che nessuno volle riconoscere

La singolare vicenda di un ragazzo scomparso 15 anni fa e mai identificato: è stato "adottato" da una comunità intera

Nicola Catenaro

15 September 2012

ROSETO DEGLI ABRUZZI (TERAMO) – Era un giovane di circa trentacinque anni, statura media, capelli ricci e neri. Indossava una giacca verde a quadri taglia 48 e portava scarpe numero 42. Non aveva soldi né documenti addosso. Nel portafogli, solo un piccolo pettine e un santino della Madonna di Loreto. La sua vita è finita sotto le ruote di un treno una domenica pomeriggio di quindici anni fa, intorno alle 14, sulla linea ferroviaria Ancona-Pescara, nei pressi di Roseto degli Abruzzi. Pioveva a dirotto e il recupero della salma fu piuttosto complesso. Disgrazia o suicidio? L’interrogativo è ancora aperto. Certo è che la sua identità (il viso era completamente sfigurato) è rimasta ignota e nessuno ha mai reclamato il suo corpo. C’è tuttavia chi, pur non avendolo mai conosciuto, ha fatto apporre una lapide sulla sua tomba e da quindici anni gli porta fiori freschi e fa dire messe in sua memoria.

«C'È SEMPRE UN BENEFATTORE CHE TI PENSA»- «A dimostrare tanta generosità è un ex dipendente della società Autogrill ora in pensione, Ciro Fattore, originario di Napoli ma residente da tempo a Roseto degli Abruzzi. Rimase colpito dalla storia di questo ragazzo senza nome, sepolto nel cimitero comunale che lui frequentava, e pensò che fosse giusto riservargli un trattamento uguale a quello degli altri estinti. Così fece sistemare prima le luci e poi la lapide in marmo con una targa in ottone che recita: «C’è sempre un benefattore che ti pensa». Ciro, ancora oggi, non sembra darsi pace per la sorte dello sconosciuto: «è mai possibile che non possa ricongiungersi con la propria famiglia?».

I TENTATIVI DELLA POLFER - I tentativi a suo tempo furono fatti. Dopo il suo ritrovamento, la Polfer provò in ogni modo a identificarlo. Cercò tra le persone scomparse e diramò segnalazioni a tutte le stazioni d’Italia. Inizialmente si pensò a un uomo di Pescara, di cui si erano perse le tracce. Ma i familiari, giunti a Roseto, non riconobbero la salma. Così il corpo rimase per tre lunghi mesi nell'obitorio del cimitero in attesa che qualche parente si presentasse e effettuasse il riconoscimento. «Ma nessuno si fece vivo – conferma a Corriere.it Giuseppe Neri, custode del cimitero da venti anni –, quindi il Comune mise un loculo a disposizione, nella parte vecchia, proprio qui vicino, e provvedemmo alla sepoltura».

SEMPRE FIORI FRESCHI SULLA TOMBA - Grazie alla generosità di Ciro e alla collaborazione dell’amico fioraio Gaetano Cinelli, anche lui napoletano, l'anonimo ha avuto l’attenzione che gli mancava e fiori freschi sulla tomba quasi tutti i giorni. La sensibilità di Ciro diventò anche un piccolo caso in Abruzzo, dopo un servizio del Tg3. Quest’anno Ciro e Gaetano, insieme ad altri concittadini, hanno deciso di celebrare l’anniversario della morte del giovane con una messa in suffragio nella chiesa del Sacro Cuore. In tanti hanno risposto all'invito contenuto nei manifesti funebri che il pensionato, con l’aiuto disinteressato di un’impresa locale, ha fatto affiggere in tutta la città. «È stato il nostro modo di ricordarlo – spiega Ciro - e di farlo sentire meno solo» .

I sovrani

La Domenica del Corriere

13 May 1900

I sovrani visitano gli scavi del foro Romano nella ricorrenza del 2653° natalizio di Roma

The King and Queen visit the excavations of the Roman Forum on the occasion of Christmas 2653° Rome

Fido

La Domenica del Corriere

22 June 1958

La morte del cane Fido: E' morto Fido. Il cane, al quale era stata assegnata una medaglia d'oro ed eretto un monumento, è morto. La sua storia è quanto mai commovente. Nel 1943 perse il padrone, vittima di un bombardamento aereo. Per quattordici anni, tutte le sere, la brava bestiola si recò ad attendere la corriera che solitamente riportava il suo amico a Luco di Mugello e si fermava finchè non c'era più speranza di vederlo. Da qualche tempo, stanco e deperito, aveva sospeso le visite. L'altro giorno, presentendo la fine, volle recarsi all'ultimo appuntamento. Due ragazzi trovarono il suo corpo inerte sulla strada.

The death of the dog Fido: And Fido is dead. The dog, who had been awarded a gold medal and a monument, has died. His story is very touching. In 1943 he lost his master, the victim of an air raid. For fourteen years, every night, the good animal went to wait for the bus that usually brought his friend into Luco di Mugello and stopped until there was no more hope of seeing him. For some time, tired and emaciated, he had suspended visits. The other day, sensing the end, he wanted to go to the last appointment. Two boys found his lifeless body on the road.

Many dogs are named Fido, but the most famous of all was an Italian streetdog who was born in the Autumn of 1941 in Borgo San Lorenzo, Tuscany, Italy.

A street dog without a home, Fido was found by Carlo Soriani, injured and lying in a ditch. Soriani was a brick-kiln worker returning home, and not knowing where the dog came from, he brought the dog home and with his wife, they nursed the dog back to health. They adopted him and gave him the name 'Fido', a Latin name meaning 'faithful'. Extremely loyal to his master, Fido would follow Soriani to the bus stop as he left for work, and would wait patiently in the piazza until the bus would bring him back, and the pair would walk home together. This continued for two years, but on the 30th of December 1943, during World War II, Borgo San Lorenzo was attacked by allies, and many factories, including the one in which Soriani worked, were hit. Soriani tragically lost his life on this day. Fido, however, did not know what had happened to his master and went back to the bus stop that night, waiting for his return. Eventually he went back home, but for the next fourteen years, the ever faithful companion would go to the bus stop at the piazza, waiting for Soriani to come back. Many were enamoured and touched by his faithfulness, and his story was told by Italian magazines and on the newsreels. On the 9th of November 1957, the mayor of Borgo San Lorenzo awarded Fido a gold medal in front of Soriani's widow and many townspeople. The sculptor Salvatore Cipolla was commissioned by the town to sculpt the dog in honour of his love and faithfulness. The finished work was displayed in Piazza Dante. However, mere months after its placement, vandals destroyed the majolica statue, and Cipolla was commissioned to recreate his original work in bronze, still seen in Piazza Dante.

On the 9th of June 1958 Fido passed away, still waiting in vain for his friend to return from work. He was buried beside his master. Both La Domenica del Corriere and La Nazione dedicated their front pages to Fido and his heart-warming story of devotion.

Inizio delle miserie e dolori causati dal maltempo

La Domenica del Corriere

1 October 1911

Inizio delle miserie e dolori causati dal maltempo: Drammatico episodio di un nubifragio a Varese (Lombardia)

Start of miseries and pains caused by bad weather: Dramatic episode of a storm in Varese (Lombardy)

This is the complete opposite weather to what Italy, and most of Europe, is experiencing right now. With heat waves and temperatures well into the thirties, they are in the middle of a drought; while here in New Zealand it is raining heavily.

Il Natale di Roma

La Domenica del Corriere

2 May 1915

Il Natale di Roma: Il Natale di Roma allo stadio Nazionale: dinanzi al palco dei Sovrani, i fanciulli delle scuole formano la 'stella d'Italia'.

The Birthday of Rome: The Birthday of Rome at the National Stadium: the stage before the Sovereign, the school children form the 'Star of Italy'.

Esercitazione militare nei pressi di Pisa

La Domenica del Corriere

3 August 1913

Esercitazione militare nei pressi di Pisa: I figli dei Sovrani assistono ad una manovra di sbarco e di conquista contro un supposto nemico della spiaggia del Gombo (Pisa)

Military Exercise Near Pisa: The sons of sovereigns assist in the maneuver of landing and conquest against a supposed enemy of the beach of Gombo (Pisa)

Un ospite inusuale e inaspettato

La Domenica del Corriere

10 March 1929

Un ospite inusuale e inaspettato: Una visita inopinata. A Paderno (Udine), il guidatore di un'automobile, per evitare un carretto, sterzava violentemente, lanciando così la macchina contro un muro, che si sfondava. E' facile immaginare il terrore di una famiglia di contadini, che era seduta dietro il muro, quando questo crollava. Per fortuna, vi sono stati soltanto alcuni feriti leggeri.

(An Unusual and Unexpected Guest: An unexpected visit. In Paderno (Udine), the driver of a car, swerved violently to avoid a cart, thereby launching his car into a wall, which is smashed. It is easy to imagine the terror of a peasant family, who was sitting behind the wall when it collapsed. Fortunately, there were only a few slightly wounded.)

Rita Atria

On the 26th of July 1992, a young seventeen year old Italian girl committed suicide. This is Rita Atria's story.

Where talking is met with deadly silence: In a small town on a Sicilian hilltop, a young woman could no longer keep quiet after the Mafia shot dead first her father, then her brother. Clare Longrigg reports on the courage, the fear and the tragic death of Rita Atria.

by Clare Longrigg, The Independent, Monday 21 September 1992.

NICOLO ATRIA and Piera Aiello were married in Partanna, a little hilltop town in the beautiful and fertile Val del Bellice, in western Sicily. When their baby was three, they moved to Montevago, a village near Agrigento, and set up their own pizzeria.

On the day of the opening, in June last year, they held a modest celebration, and invited a few neighbours. The guests departed early. As Nicolo was clearing away, a man walked into the restaurant and shot him. Nicolo died in Piera's arms. He was 24.

It was a settling of scores between Mafia clans, and people knew better than to interfere. Nicolo's father, Vito, a shepherd, had been shot dead in 1985 by a hitman from a rival family. Nicolo was 18 at the time, the only son, and he talked obsessively about avenging his father. He probably knew who the murderer was; perhaps, in his eagerness to be taken seriously, he had talked too much about his vendetta.

The police made half-hearted inquiries into Nicolo's death, but were greeted by silence. This is Mafia heartland, and nobody talks to the police, not even to ask the time of day. That would have been the end of it, had it not been for Nicolo's sister. Rita was 18, a quiet girl, ordinary-looking, short, with dark brown hair and black eyes. Her father and now her brother had been murdered, and she knew that the killers were free and had nothing to fear: Mafia hitmen are seldom arrested and almost never tried for murder.

Rita had been timid and unassuming, always in the background of small-town life. Unable to suppress her grief and anger any longer, she took her revenge. She disobeyed the Mafia's most powerful, unwritten law - instilled into her from her earliest childhood. A month after her brother's murder, she went to the police with his widow, and talked.

The police took the women straight to Paolo Borsellino, the magistrate conducting investigations into Mafia activity in the west of Sicily. Rita's anger came out in a torrent of words. She told Borsellino about the war between the Mafia families of Partanna, in which 30 people have died in the past few years; she named the heads of the most powerful families. She named the men who had killed her father and her brother. Borsellino questioned her about Partanna's most notorious unsolved murder: the shooting of the deputy mayor in 1983. Rita told him what every other resident of Partanna believed, but would not say: that the former mayor had killed his own deputy.

Last October the police made their move. Ten people were imprisoned for Mafia crimes on the evidence of Rita Atria's testimony, and in the following months, 20 more mafiosi were behind bars. When her mother found out that Rita was collaborating with the police, she threw her out. It did not matter that her own son's killer was to be brought to justice; as far as she was concerned, the police were on the wrong side of the law. Borsellino was afraid the Mafia would discover the identity of his source and try to silence her. Rita was taken to a seventh-floor flat on the outskirts of Rome, where the only people she knew were her police guards. Borsellino became her lifeline.

On Sunday 19 July, Paolo Borsellino was blown up on the doorstep of his mother's house in Palermo. Italy reeled with the shock. Rita, alone in the apartment in Rome, read the papers and saw the mangled cars and bodies on television. A week later, she locked herself into the apartment and wrote a note, which said: 'I am devastated by the killing of Judge Borsellino. Now there's no one to protect me, I'm scared and I can't take any more.' Then she threw herself out of the window.

It took two days for the newspapers to trace this anonymous suicide - no one in the apartment block knew the girl on the seventh floor, and no one but Borsellino and his colleagues had seen her for months. Anti-Mafia campaigners instantly adopted Rita as a martyr. The unknown heroine was splashed across every front page, but no one had a picture of her.

The road to Partanna winds through the rich countryside, past fields of melons and corn. As you approach the small hilltop town, the road rises in a grandiose arc and curls into a massive spaghetti junction. But this astonishing construction does not actually lead into the town. You have to circle the summit and go down again, turn down a side street and enter the town on the old, broken road.

Partanna was partially destroyed by earthquakes in 1968, and, after almost 10 years, the money began to arrive to rebuild it. Rivers of money, from the EC and the state, went straight into the pockets of the Mafia. Individuals were paid to rebuild their own palatial villas. The approach road with no exit appeared, while the church roof still lies where it fell.

On the day of Rita Atria's funeral, journalists and anti-Mafia campaigners arrived from Palermo and wandered about in the blistering heat, trying to find out when the ceremony would take place. There was a confusion about the proceedings that heightened the mutual suspicion between the townsfolk of Partanna and the unwelcome visitors. At the town hall, they said Mass would be held at noon. At the church, a man said there would be no funeral for Rita.

At one o'clock, Don Calogero Russo, the parish priest, stepped out to the vestry in the middle of another funeral, and was taken aback to find a group of women waiting for him, demanding to know what was happening and when the funeral would be. 'These are terrible times. It's a cruel world. What a dreadful thing to happen,' he said in an unctuous voice. 'We won't be saying Mass for the poor girl, her family doesn't want us to.'

This was difficult to believe: there had been no sign of a single member of Rita's family since the news of her death had broken, and her sister-in-law, who had gone to the police with her, was still in hiding. The women were indignant. As they walked away, one remarked that a priest who would not say Mass for a girl who had betrayed the Cosa Nostra must be a mafioso. Another said that because Rita had committed suicide, the priest would not bury her in holy ground.

The citizens of Partanna seemed rather inclined to forget who Rita Atria was. But a bar owner was more helpful. She said that Rita's mother was in the local hospice for the poor, being looked after by the nuns. 'She's only 50, but they say she's gone mad. I'm not surprised after what has happened.'

The hospice is surrounded by 20ft walls, with a solid steel gate and electronic surveillance. A voice on the entryphone beneath the eye of a video camera shrieked at the outsiders to go away.

At five o'clock the entrance to the cemetery was blocked by television cameras and press photographers. Journalists and anti-Mafia campaigners outnumbered the local mourners, and searched frantically for anyone who had known the dead girl. A strangled howl among the tombs sent the press corps half-running towards Rita's family grave. The mother? But the old woman in black, grey hair wild about her crumpled face, was not related. A group of women from Partanna looked on uneasily. They all said they didn't know Rita Atria, but it was a pity, such a young girl . . .

To a brief burst of applause, Rita's coffin came unsteadily down the path. It was carried by a dozen women from Palermo, heroines of the anti-Mafia movement who jostled for position to pay homage to their dead sister. At the rear was Michela Buscemi, who had taken her brothers' mafioso killers to court; leading the mourners was Letizia Battaglia, who spent two years photographing the shattered corpses of Mafia victims, in protest against Cosa Nostra.

The coffin was followed by the mayor and three carabinieri in uniform, bearing a standard - it had been decided, at short notice, that Rita was an official heroine. Father Russo celebrated Mass under a piercing blue sky, the cyprus trees rustled by a gentle breeze. The small crowd filtered through the graves, standing on the tombs to get a better view. The mayor gave a long speech about Rita's bravery, without once mentioning the Mafia.

Father Russo recited: 'Pardon your servant for her sins. . . .' 'Rita non ha peccato, ha parlato,' cried out one of the protesters. 'Rita did not sin, she talked. And what she said was the truth.' There was a shocked silence, then a ripple of cautious applause.

Rita was not the first to talk. In recent years, a number of women from Mafia families have denounced the killers of their husbands or sons. All of them have been ostracised by their families as a result, many have had their livelihoods destroyed. When Michela Buscemi testified against the killers of her brothers, Salvo and Rodolfo, her bar in Palermo was blown up and her mother disowned her; it was not until her four-year-old daughter's life was threatened that she withdrew her case. Pietra Lo Verso's husband fell foul of a Mafia boss and was shot dead in a massacre that killed eight people. She took his killers to court; as a result, customers deserted her shop, her parents cut her out of their lives, and her sons will not allow her to speak to anyone.

During his last investigations, Judge Borsellino maintained that the only effective weapons in the war against the Mafia were the pentiti - the 'penitent' mafiosi who, out of fear or revenge, revealed the inside workings of the impenetrable organisation - and the innocent members of Mafia families who knew the names of killers and bosses. He knew what would happen to a woman who betrayed her family to the police, and he used to give his 'penitents' personal support, remembering birthdays and Christmas presents for the children. Just before he died, he had requested better protection for these informers.

When Rita Atria's funeral was over, the journalists, giving up hope of finding anyone who had known her, interviewed each other outside the cemetery gate. But as the people of Partanna edged back up the hill to their homes, one woman spoke up. 'I didn't know Rita, but I came to her funeral because I believe in what she did,' she said rapidly as the reporters closed in around her, wielding microphones. 'We are all to blame for her death, because of our silence. But what happened to her is not going to change anything around here. It's not going to make anyone else talk.'

Source: The Independent

Milano: Inaugurazione dei musei artistico ed archeologico: gl'invati nella Corte Ducale

La Domenica del Corriere 27 May 1900

Milano: Inaugurazione dei musei artistico ed archeologico: gl'invati nella Corte Ducale

Milan: Inauguration of art and archaeological museums: those invited to the Ducal Court

Rottura dell'acquedotto a Venezia

La Domenica del Corriere

30 July 1911

Rottura dell'acquedotto a Venezia: La gente accore a provvedersi d'acqua importata ai pozzi ed alle fontanelle.

Rupture of the acqueduct in Venice: People come to provide themselves with water imported to the wells and fountains.

L'esposizione internazionale fotografica a Torino

La Domenica del Corriere

4 March 1900

L'esposizione internazionale fotografica a Torino: La visita dei duchi d'Aosta: The International Photographic Exhibition in Turin: The Visit of the Duke of Aosta

La fuga di una leonessa

La Domenica del Corriere

19 July 1914

La fuga di una leonessa: Leonessa che fugge dalla gabbia aperta in alto durante una rappresentazione, in Borgogna, e spaventa un intero paese.

The Escape of a Lioness: Lioness escapes from the cage, open at the top, during a performance in Burgundy, scaring a whole country.

Terremoto a Livorno

La Domenica del Corriere, 25 January 1914

Terremoto a Livorno (Earthquake in Livorno)

Scosse di terremoto a Livorno: la popolazione fuggita all'alba dalle case si riscalda ai falò accesi nelle piazze e nelle vie.