"And how was 'La mia bandiera" born?'" I asked one day of the illustrious artist.
"How? Have I never told you?
"Never! ...""
"Well, listen, because this is my fondest memory."
"You know how in Paris there was the Polenta Society? Well there was a similar thing in London called the Fagioli Society. As a matter of fact, wait... I've saved this sort of statute that the president sent to each member. Here it is, read," he said, handing me a sheet.
And I read:
« The undersigned, aware and conscious of the fact that to know each other must see each other, and to esteem and love each other must visit with each other; persuaded and convinced that 'eating alone, in addition to not doing much good—as says Mantegazza—does not contribute at all to the civilizing of customs; driven by indescribable and irresistible love of their homeland cuisine, institute a cementing of the ties of union and concord of the few members of Italian colony, consolidating at the same time the conditions of the chamber. »
« To this sublime end—swearing in the table, tablecloth and whatever will be placed on it—the undersigned deem to join in bucolic knot, lubricating with lunch whatever lack of smoothness could possibly exist in their socio-digestive devices. So after having received the seal of baptism and appointed the respective authorities, they have sworn to do the following, noting:
1) Bowing with all due respect to once a month—and moreover, walking to it directly with one's own feet—before a plate of steaming beans, whether straight from the stove or cold in a salad. It goes without saying that besides beans, we will stick behind them some other succulent dish.
2) This obeisance costs to each of beaneaters the sum of 10 shillings and 6 pence. »
"To this company belonged to the best Italian artists living in London, such as Rotoli, Tosti, Denza, Badia, Ferri, Rizzelli, Batocchi, Bell, Fantoni, Balls, Peruzzi, Rubini, Tartaglione, Mattei, Cimino... and present at the Fagioli Society dinners were always around a hundred people, including wealthy English gentlemen and some authorities of the embassy and the Italian Consulate.
One evening in July 1876, Rolls master Augusto, speaking at the usual meeting of fagiolai, carried with him a poem that was incomplete but suitable for setting to music. After dinner, Rotoli, always witty and charming, turned to the poet Cimino and with his thin little voice, said, "If you finish this poem, I'll set it to music and we'll make Cotogni sing it this very evening."
"Cimino didn't need to be asked twice; he composed the rest of the romance."
Here is the full text:
__________________
They told me that Beppe's going to be a soldier,
And that you've been seen weeping in secret.
Ah! to make those eyes weep is a great sin.
Beppe will not leave; I'll go in his place.
On one will weep for me. Remember
The night of the party that one summer?
I dared to speak of love, and you laughed at me so much,
That out of pain I went and cried in secret! ....
I cried and swore never to anything on earth
Besides you: and I keep that oath now.
Ah! if I can shield you from even one unhappiness.
Then *that's* the only prize or contentment I need from love.
Beppe will soon lead you to the altar;
And I'm happy to go to the regiment.
Be his sweet and sincere companion,
And my wife will be my flag!
____________________
"Rotoli," continued Cotogni, "sat at the piano and with his usual ease, set it to music. And I sang the aria, arousing among those present a quasi-revolution!"
"When we were leaving that evening of unforgettable enthusiasm and patriotism, Rotoli handed me the manuscript of the romance with these words of dedication:
« London, in July 1876.
My Toto,
Take away these two scribblings of romanza: I'm sure you'll make them become beautiful, while I here in the city of Albion—where the imagination is brutalized—I did my best. If this piece is successful, it'll be all your doing. Wish me well and always remember your Rotolicchio. »
And the romance was successful lucky as no other ever had been. Cotogni sang it everywhere, in theaters and the most aristocratic concerts, and he made it so popular that in Europe and America it was sung and *is* still sung by everyone.
