New Decameron Ninety: Ada Palmer (Patreon)

Library Advice

by Ada Palmer

Dear Ms. Linacre,

I was delighted to hear that you have secured funding to travel to Fossa sul Tebere to chase down this supposed Petrarch fragment. I will do my best to advise you on the peculiarities of the library there, since I am, to my knowledge, the living scholar who has most recently accessed their collection.

About the Library:

Gibson’s description refers to the location only as Biblioteca Squarciacinghiala, but there are actually two libraries in Fossa sul Tebere, the Biblioteca Nazionale Squarciacinghiala (BN Squar.) and the Biblioteca della Sagrestia di Santa Squarciacinghiala (Sagrestia Squar.) Tax records indicate only one library until 1607, when suit was brought against the Deacon (who had the bad luck of being a classicist) for the theft of eighteen spoons, a quartz plinth and a guardaciore (probably nightgown?), though I believe he was ousted because of his pamphlet rejecting the popular claim that a local mound was the tomb of Marcus Agrippa’s horse. After this point the sacristy documents became a separate collection.  

The BN Squar., containing most of the documents, is now housed in Cassa Spendaccione. You may remember Tazzo Spendaccione, whose banishment from Rome for falling through the roof of Cardinal Giulio de Medici’s privy in 1522 became the butt of Aretino’s satirical verses on the owl and the jam. The palazzo was built by Tazzo’s uncle Marcantonio Spendaccione who, according to a letter of Michelangelo’s, broke both legs while attempting to measure one of Julius II’s elephants (the same one involved in the aborted battle with the King of Naples’ rhinoceros). The Sagrestia Squar., meanwhile, is now housed in the old sacristy of the Church of Santa Squarciacinghiala (in a set of 16th c. wooden cabinets notable for their intarsia inlay decoration depicting monkeys raiding cabinets of musical instruments). 

I believe your manuscript to be in the BN Squar., since the description appears on an odd numbered page of Gibson’s journal, and I believe (at least before the affair with Lizetta Struzzo and the caper barrels) Gibson was in the habit of visiting the BN Squar. in the mornings and the Sagrestia Squar. in the afternoons, using a new page for his notes at each session. Since the letter on lark catching of “Fra Odo” described on p. 13 is definitely in the BN Squar., the supposed Petrarch manuscript on p. 17 is likely there as well. That is fortunate, since the sacristy library is the more impenetrable of the two, at least since the brawl in which Sister Hillary dropped the keys down the well outside the Mercato Costoso.

The Saint’s Cult:

The legend of Santa Squarciacingiala may shed some light as to why Petrarch might have stopped in Fossa sul Tebere. Her cult is first documented in 1203, in a letter from a Venetian preacher “Guidone” who came the town to solicit donations for the Fourth Crusade. He reports that the local people feasted on wild boar during lent, saying that it was not a sin since it honored “S[anta] Squarciacingh[iale]” who triumphed over thirty devils who took the shape of a wild boar (cingiale). Later accounts describe several encounters with the thirty devils, conjured by a governor (?) who was fired with lust for the beautiful young saint, who was living as a hermit in a hollow tree, where she ate only dew and fruits brought to her by an angel in the shape of three doves. The governor hired a conjurer (alternate accounts suggest a Jew, a Florentine, a Saracen or a doctor from Padua) who turned thirty coins into devils, which plagued the saint in various forms, though each form seems to consist of all thirty devils. They became in turn a wild boar which she crushed with her foot, a fire which she smothered with her embrace, a distaff which produced infinite purple thread which she cast away saying she cared only for the white of purity or the red of Christ’s blood, a shower of hail whose hiss she drowned out by singing te deum, a sparrow which she turned into a walnut with her glance (what threat the sparrow posed is unclear), and a French friar who tried to snare her with deceitful syllogisms whom she first confuted in debate and then caused to wither into a bag of false things, which was then set on fire by lightning. This last episode might have intrigued Petrarch, who so often complains about envious French rivals, so he might have come to visit her shrine, which preserves her skull, veil, strigil and walnut, and contains a natural spring which legend connects with a posthumous miracle: during a local wedding, a bride prayed to the saint to reveal whether her husband would ever be false, and the saint appeared in the form of a hart and caused the bride to transform into a spring of pure water.

Interpreting Gibson’s description:

The photocopy of Gibson’s description which you sent is certainly consistent with the De Remediis, but (even though we can confirm from the irate letter about fennel that Petrarch was in Fossa sul Tebere in 1370) you should still consider the probability that the manuscript is an anonymous imitation rather than a lost book of Petrarch’s original work. Thinking of the authentic chapters 43-46 “De librorum copia” (on having too many books) “De scritorum” (on being an author) “De magisterio” (on getting an MA) and “De variis titulis” (on holding multiple degrees), the headings and numbers reported by Gibson follow naturally in topic as well as enumeration, 47-50. I agree with your reading of “De interpretationes peregrinis” as “On being translated into exotic tongues” rather than translating exotic tongues. Reading “De adsignato” as “On awards,” does follow and probably refers to the laurel crown, while I read “De emendatore praesigne” as “On having an outstanding editor” rather than “collaborator” since Gibson notes that the passage refers to Cicero’s supposed work on Lucretius’ De rerum natura. I cannot help you with “De adsignato hugone” but I expect Gibson was struggling with the hand, particularly if he was racing to finish before Lent. Whether real or forged, the chapters would certainly be illuminating, since little is known of the concept of editing before the more mature humanist activities of the 1400s.

The Catalog: 

It is most unfortunate that Gibson does not supply the collocation, as the catalog is one of this library’s particular challenges. You may recall how the Biblioteca Capitolare in Padua does not have a copy of its own catalog, so you have to go to Rome to consult it before traveling to Padua. The BN Squar. is a bit like that, in that it does not have its catalog on site, but the municipal courthouse of the town does have the original catalog, written in an 18th century German hand by one “Finco” (facsimiles available in the Marciana and Beineke). When I was there, the courthouse was only open for the first week of each quarter and the second Tuesday of each month, but a janitor came regularly on Friday mornings and (after I offered a gift of wine) gave me access (he prefers wines from Lazio). The catalog is in six volumes. Five are stored on the first floor in the cabinets near the icon of Archangel Raphael carrying a remarkably true-to-life catfish, and the last (volume three) was, when I found it, propping up one leg of a rickety prayer stool in the second floor west hallway.

The catalog is organized in the order in which volumes appear on the library shelves, but has three indexes: by the first phrase of the main text, by names mentioned, and by commissione, which refers to groupings of documents added by different local committees (fishing, saintly processions, shoe tax, etc.). Since Gibson says the manuscript is not attributed to Petrarch, you will need to use the opening phrase index; if the short section Gibson transcribed turns out not to be the beginning you will have to skim entry-by-entry. The catalog is straightforward except for its suffix system. You may recall how call numbers in the Ambrosiana either have the suffix “sup.” (superior) or “inf.” (inferior) indicating whether they are on the top or bottom rack, and the librarians refuse to look at both shelves if you cannot specify which your book is on. The BN Squar. is a bit like that, but it uses four suffixes: “cim” (cima, top, i.e. top shelf), “vic” (vicino, near, i.e. second shelf), “sin” (sinistro? left?) and “bot” (botte, keg, a collection of manuscripts formerly stacked in wooden kegs, which are now in the Sagrestia library). In addition, you will sometimes see a small dot, the size of a jot, in the left margin next to an entry. This indicates items that were missing in the survey conducted in 1591, probably because of an incomplete effort to relocate the collection during fear around the French Invasion of 1494, which resulted in some items being sent to Rome where they eventually fell into the hands of Annius of Viterbo, who doctored some of them to support his forged translations from Etruscan.

Reaching the Town: 

You must not type Fossa sul Tebere into any train station kiosk. If you do, they will happily sell you tickets either to the town of Fossa, a Roman satellite known for the gritty texture of its signature cheese, or to Fossanova, which you will remember as the site where, hoping to extract the bones from the very heavy corpse of St. Thomas Aquinas using mos teutonicus, the local brothers boiled his body in red wine, which left all his legitimate relics a peculiar shade of purple (apparently the Church of San Tomasso in Piacenza is still angry at me about that article). The Red Guide will tell you it is possible to reach Fossa sul Tebere if you take the train to Pagliaccio, but the bus from Pagliaccio hasn’t stopped at Fossa sul Tebere since 1985, when there was some kerfuffle during the towns’ annual tug-of-war. The best route, since the whitebait heist of ’94 scared the fishing boats off of taking passengers, is to take the westbound local train from Urbino to Scaldasedie (you might want to stop off at the Church of San Perdigiorno, where a marble block features a puzzling Roman inscription in which the normally deponent verb gesticulor (to imitate in pantomime?) appears with the name S. Saeculanus in the accusative and clitella (saddle?) in the ablative/dative plural). From Scaldasedie it’s an hour’s bus ride (weather and sheep permitting) to Barzoletta. When you get off, look for the little general store with arms of a duck rampant above cheese. Climb over the gate behind the gumball machine and you’ll find a dirt track which splits. The right fork will take you to Vescica sul Parroco (in whose shrine you can see the miracle-working bucket of the local patroness Beata Mungitrice), and the left will take you, after about five miles, to Fossa sul Tebere. Beware of pig.

Contact and Lodging:

You may recall how Padua’s Capitolare has no website or telephone, so you need to call the woman in the tobacco shop across the street to find out which saints’ days they will be closed. The BN Squar. is a bit like that, but, as with many of these small town collections, it gets so little traffic that it does not open without an appointment, making it even more essential to call ahead. I have attached the phone numbers for the parish priest, the mechanic, the dairy shop, the woman who stares out of the laundromat all day, and the phone booth behind the statue of Dante. I can’t say how many of these lines still work, but hopefully someone will remember me and understand your needs, and relay your requests, but you must be specific about the dates of your intended visit. As I recall, the custodians of the BN Squar. are usually unwilling to open during Lent or within two weeks of Easter, Christmas, the Assumption of Mary, All Saints Day or the Immaculate Conception, within two days of the feast days of Francis, Claire, John the Baptist, Agatho of Alexandria, John of Damascus, Euphemia, Bernardino of Sienna, Praejectus, Photius of Constantinople, or on the feast day of any saint whose feast is the same in the Catholic and Orthodox calendars. You will want to check carefully, as asking for an unwelcome date may prompt them to reject you entirely. Their hours when open are 7:30 to 11:30, and they are, of course, out of town in August.

You may recall from using the library in Sauvignano sul Rubicone that the town has no hotel, so it is necessary to rent the guest room of the local English teacher. Fossa sul Tebere is a bit like that but no one there rents out, so the best option is to write to Domenico Disattento who runs a furniture repair shop and will usually offer a bed or cot. Failing that, I found in clement weather that it was often possible to shelter for the night under the elevated tomb of Riccardo di Piero Riccardini, the anatomy professor from Bologna who wrote that treatise on the digestion of the gryphon.

Finding the Library: 

You may recall how, when you first come to the Vatican library, the entrance is confusingly inaccessible, located through a gate, past a Swiss guardsman, around a kiosk, through an archway, and then diagonally across a large courtyard in a sheltered spot which is otherwise only visible from the rickety walkway outside the room with Raphael’s School of Athens. And that, aware of this issue, the library has produced helpful maps, but only give them to you once you have already made it to the entrance and managed to enter the office waiting room (which, rumor has it, has recently obtained a second chair). The BN Squar. is a bit like that, though in its case there is only a seventeenth century woodcut map of the town with the library marked in some reddish waxy substance, which the librarian will often be kind enough to let you sketch (cameras are not permitted; apparently they scare the cat). I have attached a scan of my sketch, but I’m afraid it was left rather smeared after the espresso-flinging incident at the seminar in Sassoferrato four years ago.

Here is my best attempt at a description of the route: starting with the statue of Dante behind you, proceed straight until you come to a pinkish row of houses with a portico and a della Robia relief of the Annunciation being interrupted by St. Antony of Padua (I think it must be modeled on the one of Thomas Aquinas interrupting it in Santa Maria sopra Minerva). Turn left here down St. Agnes in Agony street (not labeled), and look for a cluster of wooden doors in the stone wall to the left, where there are the faces of two Roman sarcophagi reused as a bench. You want door 13, but not the first door 13 you find. You may recall how, in Florence, there are two sets of unrelated numbers on each street, the black numbers (written in red) and the red numbers (written in blue) marking what were residences and commercial spaces when the Medici ordered the survey in the 1400s. Fossa sul Tebere is a bit like that, though it has three numbering systems, the original “numeri vecchi” (carved in square stones, usually outlined black), the “numeri di vittoria” for new buildings on the sites of Guelph houses that were razed when the Ghibbelines triumphed (bronze on brick though often the bronze has fallen leaving only a stain), and the “numeri celesti” implemented by a reformer named Giovanni Ficcanaso in 1604 to mark constructions in good accord with the Heavenly Virtues (white tiles with numbers in blue). You need numero celesto 13. The Tappo family there usually has someone home, who will let you use a shortcut through their back garden (otherwise you have to continue up the hill, all the way around the abbey wall and back down until you reach the other side of that wall). From there proceed left down the sloped bank on the right side of the low fence (beware of pig again) until you reach a rusted water pump. At this point if you look to your right there is a stucco wall with one grand door and two small doors. This is the library, but you can’t enter by any of these doors. Proceed around the side (you should hear the shouting of the two rival fruit stalls up by the bridge above) and there will be stairs going up along the wall concealed behind a persimmon tree (from the first landing you can see the woman staring out of the laundromat window). The custodian should be waiting at the top of the stairs, but you should bring a whistle in case he is inside.  

The stacks are open to the reading room, but the custodian will become agitated if you attempt to touch them. You are familiar enough with libraries of this kind that I don’t need to give you the basics, and you know to bring a cushion and a book light. I will say only that there actually is an outlet in the reading room near the bust of Agrippa, and that the flushing mechanism for the toilet is a foot pedal tucked behind the bidet. Flush twice, and bring your own soap.

*****************************************

"Not all Italian libraries are as hard to use as that one," he says, but he is laughing. 

Maya laughs too. "This one is much easier," she says. "But I suppose it doesn't have any amazing secret manuscripts by Petrarch."

"I'll take being able to read magic books," he says.

"Oh yes," Maya says. "That was such fun. "Squarchiacinghale!"

He is still grinning. "Time for bed, and we can dream about other libraries," he says.

They settle down to sleep, as they do every night. The cat is restless, first sleeping on Maya's feet then on her chest then abandoning her in the small hours only to return, damp, in the early dawn. "Where have you been?" she mutters sleepily.

When they wake the sun is streaming in and bells are ringing. Bells are so normal that for a moment she disregards them. Maya sits upright. "Why are they ringing the bells? Is something wrong?"

"What country, friends?" he mutters, then goes to the window. "I don't know why they're ringing," he says, and at that moment they stop. He pulls out his coffee pouch and takes a drink.

"Should we look on the internet?" Maya asks, glancing at the computer on the librarian's desk -- then gasps. It's no longer there. She can't remember when she last noticed it, perhaps it wasn't there yesterday either. 

"We're getting closer," he says.

"But where has the computer gone?" Maya asks.

"You didn't want to go home anyway, did you?"

Maya looks at him. "No. But --"

"I can't rescue all the kids in the world who have terrible parents and who love books. I would if I could. But I can rescue you. I think I can. And it seems to be working."

"What do I do?" Maya asks.

"Sit down and read," he says.

"But that's what we've been doing!"

"Exactly." He smiles. "Here. We have another story from Alter Reiss. It's almost sure to have breakfast."

And they read.