Giambattista Bodoni. Valerie Lester
when the squares became sites for public punishments such as flagellation and execution.
In opposition to any lack of taste (say over-enthusiasm for flagellation and execution), the Accademia dell’Arcadia was formed in Rome in 1690 and waved its banner on behalf of good taste. Arcadia refers to an actual, secluded, pastoral region of the Peloponnesus in Greece that became a proverbial utopia, immortalized by Virgil in his Eclogues. Members of the Accademia considered Arcadia their spiritual homeland, chose a district in Arcadia to hail from, took names from bucolic classical literature, and dressed up as those pastori and pastorelle (shepherds and shepherdesses) who could be seen herding their imaginary sheep all over town.
At the time of Bodoni’s arrival, Arcadianism was in full flower, and it permeated fashion and the arts. The Accademia’s aims were a return to a simpler way of life and the promotion of good taste according to classical precepts; its members were required to find a sensible balance between nature and reason, passion and intellect, truth and imagination. It is hard to overestimate its influence during the eighteenth century and the prestige it conferred upon its members. An Arcadian possessed an automatic entry into society. Naturally enough, the ever-ambitious Bodoni eventually became a member.
Giambattista Bodoni and Domenico Costa stumbled into this roiling, seamy stew of ecclesiastical fervor, Arcadianism, and assertive commerce. They shouldered their way past beggars, jumped out of the paths of rich men’s carriages, and inhaled the heady aromas of grilled fish and meat, and boiled cabbage. Even as they admired the column of Marcus Aurelius, they were overwhelmed by the smell of coffee. The foot of the column was the preferred site for roasting beans for the entire city.
Rome was indeed a city of smells, in part because eighteenth-century Romans did not appreciate the smell of food being prepared inside their houses (or, indeed, smells of any kind indoors, particularly perfume, which they regarded as a disgusting French phenomenon). Grilling was performed out of doors at fish or meat stalls, with separate stalls for sauces. Huge vats of tripe, enough to satisfy the entire city, were stewed in front of the church of San Marcello,23 and special cabbage cooks set up cauldrons in the Piazza Colonna, sometimes enhancing the flavor of the vegetable with bacon fat and garlic. Young boys would then hurry the aromatic, steaming cabbage to its destination, in the manner of pizza delivery today.
In the Piazza Navona, the din of venders even overpowered the sound of Bernini’s gigantic Fountain of the Four Rivers. Because it was still Lent when Bodoni arrived, bakers loudly hawked their maritozzi, specially baked but extremely dry buns. Farmers from the countryside and fishermen from the shore jostled with each other, yelling out their wares: eggs, fish, eels, snails, cheese, corn meal, bread, and vegetables, especially those of the early spring season, such as artichokes and a variety of salad greens. The true star of the spring was puntarelle, a form of chicory even now deeply loved in Rome and eaten with a pesto of anchovies, garlic, and olive oil.
Everywhere they looked, the boys saw new sights: a barber holding high his blade as he shaved a customer; a scrivener dutifully writing letters at the bidding of the illiterate; Jesuits praying; acrobats; fortune tellers; drummers (useful for their ability to mask the screams of those having their teeth pulled); quacks touting their miracle cures; performing goats; lottery ticket sellers; lemonade venders; astrologers; strolling musicians; and the cavalletto, a torture rack with a mechanical thrashing component that acted as a threat to and a punishment for wrongdoers.24 The sheer number of clerics on the streets was stunning, but most important for Bodoni was the stone lettering everywhere, beautiful letters, square and clear, huge capital Roman letters, marching across façades, advertising the city itself.
Tired, stunned, hungry, and almost penniless, Bodoni and Costa sought out their uncles. First they hunted down Costa’s, “ma l’effeto non corrispose” (to no effect).25 But surely Bodoni’s uncle, the very man who had baptized him, his father’s own dear brother, would prove more welcoming? No. Carlo Bodoni was nowhere to be found in Rome. He was away in the Sabine hills outside the city, working as a Lenten preacher.26 (It turns out that his greatest claim to fame was his indefatigable effort in trying to convert Jews to Christianity.)27
No record remains of where the boys found lodging, but during the days that followed, an increasingly destitute Bodoni went from print shop to print shop, selling the last of his wood engravings. In a squishily hagiographic piece celebrating the two-hundredth anniversary of Bodoni’s birth, Alfonso M. Begheldo says that Bodoni gave Rome his little works in wood and that Rome gave him its spirit and a sense of catholicity that knew no bounds.28 At this point Bodoni would more likely have appreciated a loaf of bread; but perhaps the situation was not too dire. Modesto Paroletti, a lawyer and author from Turin, claims that a man named Bima decided to become a Capuchin monk and, upon taking his vow of poverty, handed over a healthy sum to Bodoni.29 Bodoni had an uncanny knack for bettering himself through the benefit of clergy.
Pope Clement XIII.
With the rest of Rome, he and Costa celebrated Easter on 26 March 1758. Weeks passed. With the rest of Rome, they became obsessed with the death on 3 May of Pope Benedict XIV and the subsequent rituals to ensure his safe passage to heaven. With the rest of Rome they waited through June and July for the election of a new pope. Finally, on July 16, puffs of white smoke emerged from the roof of the Sistine chapel. The cardinals had chosen Carlo della Torre di Rezzonico, the super-modest Pope Clement XIII, who today is best remembered for his moral strength, for championing the Jesuits in the face of increasing opposition, and for fig-leafing Vatican statuary, all the while resembling, in James Boswell’s words, “a jolly landlord.”
None of the boys’ ambitious plans for advancement and fame bore fruit. Finally, rejecting the idea of an ignominious retreat to their maternal bosoms, they decided to seek their fortunes elsewhere and move to another city.30 Bodoni was well aware that Rome and its surroundings were no longer the hotbed of Italian printing, even though Subiaco, just 40 kilometers away had been the first city in Italy to attract printers from Germany, shortly after Gutenberg’s invention of moveable type in 1450. Perhaps they would have better luck in Florence, Milan, or Venice.
Bodoni made one last ditch visit to the distinguished press of Generoso Salomini.31 Although Salomini had no work to offer Bodoni, he was impressed by the boy’s lively personality and way with words, and immediately saw a future for him. He decided to introduce him to Abbé Costantino Ruggieri, the superintendent of the press at the Sacra Congregatio de Propaganda Fide (the Sacred Congregation for the Propagation of the Faith), which was the missionary arm of the Vatican. Ruggieri was also the secretary to Cardinal Spinelli, the prefect of the Propaganda Fide. Salomini marched Bodoni over to the cardinal’s palace, where they had the good fortune to run into Abbé Ruggieri on the main staircase. Salomini asked Ruggieri if he would intervene with the cardinal and seek help and protection for the young man. Ruggieri questioned Bodoni closely on various aspects of printing, and particularly about his woodcuts. As it was midday, he gave Bodoni some money for lunch, and told him to come back afterwards to meet the cardinal.
Cardinal Giuseppe Spinelli.
When Cardinal Spinelli saw Bodoni’s woodcuts, he felt they were too good to have been created by such a young man. He decided to put him to the test. He set him up in a room alone, and asked him to prove his worth by cutting a coat of arms. Bodoni first drew the design, and then with just a few tools managed to incise a perfect woodcut in the space of three hours. The cardinal and the abbé were astonished and delighted with the result.32 They were so pleased that they hired Bodoni on the spot as an assistant compositor (typesetter), and Cardinal Spinelli even invited Bodoni to live with him at the Palazzo Valentini.
The Palazzo Valentini is monumental. Now the seat of the Province of Rome, it is situated on the Via IV Novembre near the Piazza Venezia,33 just a stone’s throw from where Ruggieri lived in the Piazza SS. XII Apostoli. The palace is built around a rectangular courtyard, with its back flanking Trajan’s forum. Cardinal Spinelli