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The exodus from Ferrara
The exodus from Ferrara
The exodus from Ferrara
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The exodus from Ferrara

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The Exodus Ferrara is a historical novel set in Ferrara. A love story is born between a young Jewish girl: Maria, and a young doctor, shortly before and during the Second World War, during historical events now forgotten: the deportations of relatives, loneliness, hunger, shootings, escape into campaign, the liberation of Ferrara, etc .... In cycling for medical visits to Ferrara, the sensations of the doctor and reflections on history: of the Estensi, of Lucrezia Borgia, of the influence of the Jewish people on the city. The history of medieval Ferrara, the Renaissance are mixed with the history of the Second World War, but the memory is short and history risks disappearing, losing an enormous human and cultural heritage. Commemorating the day of the Holocaust, 27 / January / 2020 is not enough. We must promote among young people the knowledge of the merits of Judaism strongly linked to Italy and in particular to Ferrara.
LanguageEnglish
Release dateJan 22, 2021
ISBN9791220254373
The exodus from Ferrara

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    Book preview

    The exodus from Ferrara - Umberto Vitali

    Umberto Vitali

    The exodus from Ferrara

    UUID: 0a5d145c-4a09-451a-a9ae-6b8b17de42d8

    Questo libro è stato realizzato con StreetLib Write

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    Indice dei contenuti

    PREFACE

    1. A BEAUTIFUL DAY OF SUN.

    2. In the silence of the afternoon

    3. Ferrara: city of beautiful girls, what luck to live, study and work there.

    4. While my mind was unconsciously pervaded by these memories,

    5. My beloved bicycle was still there.

    6. I took Mortara street on my right, where Italo Balbo had lived just ahead at home at number 49.

    7. I continued my bicycle journey.

    8. A week had passed, by now I had to go for a check-up in via Mazzini n. 25.

    9. THE TEMPLARS formed a religious and knightly order famous in the past and still today

    ​10. I arrived at number 25 in Mazzini street and rang the bell.

    11. Another week passed by,

    12. The day after I advised Maria do not go into the path and to leave the garden,

    12. Maria and I left home,

    13. THE LIBERATION

    14. One day we went to where Maria lived, in via Mazzini 25.

    15. WHILE OUR MILITARIES AND ALSO FOREIGNERS WHO DIED IN THE FIRST AND IN THE SECOND WORLD WAR REST IN THE IGNORED AND SILENT FAMEDIO OF THE CEMETERY OF FERRARA.

    Back cover

    PREFACE

    I deeply felt the desire to write a novel about Ferrara, for the love of the city and to make it better known to all those generations who was born after the Second World War.

    Too many exceptional stories and anecdotes are still unknown, if not forgotten.

    Justice must be done to Ferrara city for its illustrious past history, from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance, to the recent one and also of the suffering of the population, who lived there.

    The memory and the historical roots of a city are the culture and show the quality of a people. It is absolutely necessary that all generations know the history of the fathers to face the challenges, that life presents to us.

    I dedicate this book to my mother Delia and my father Ermanno, who personally experienced the hardships of the Second World War, and despite everything, they also had the courage to procreate Cesarina, born in 1940 and Agostino in 1941.

    The content of this book does not refer to specific people, although much information has been derived from documents. I apologize for any inaccuracies or omissions.

    1. A BEAUTIFUL DAY OF SUN.

    It was an ideal day with the sun to perform a home medical visit in Ferrara city.

    The name of the city is of uncertain derivation: from the name of a girl who arrived from Troia (Ferrara) or from the iron (worked in this area in ancient times) or from the spelt (cultivated in this area and widely used by the Romans) or for important fairs (feriarum area) or for the seat of the bishop (Ferrariola) or for the Byzantine military (Castrum Ferrariae) near the river Po (the branch of saint George).

    Then the city developed to the north, beyond the river, because it was more defensible under the kindom of the Longobards.

    The first settlements developed along the north bank with Ripagrande street and Volte street, thus the Cathedral and the Municipal Square were built.

    Placed the doctor's bag on the rear rack of the bicycle, I crossed the corridor of the garden to leave the house. In both sides the path was so lush with trees and plants that it seemed like crossing a jungle. The gigantic fig tree in the corner of the neighboring wall, then the laurel hedges on both sides, an olive tree, a sycamore tree, a climbing rose on the wall, a row of sempervirens cypresses.

    I opened the green iron gate in Arianuova street and slowly went with my bicycle towards the main street Ercole I ° d’Este, enjoying the atmosphere of early autumn.

    All around there were fields of grass and I reached the intersection with Ercole I ° d'Este, where the beautiful renaissance palaces overlooked: Trotti Mosti palace (the nobleman took part in the battles of Cornuda and Vittorio Veneto in 1848 to free the homeland enslaved by the Austrian yoke); Giordani palace (noble palace, later known as the commerce palace, which has two pilasters with two rotundas, in which it is very curiously written just like this: her culis et musarum commerce, fa ve te linguis et ani mis), both had spaces for cavalry and became the seat of the university Faculty of Law; then the house of the notary Brighenti, formerly a coffee house, which stood out for a particular style, a romanesque front with white columns, capitals and iron gate, with only the ground floor.

    Before turning the corner, I threw my gaze towards the city Charterhouse, where in the distance the four harmonious statues of angels dominated the corners of the aedicule in the first circle, in the attitude of playing the trumpets of the last judgment.

    This aedicule has always fascinated me for the round arches, the lightness of the baked clay red stone columns, the iron fence that separates it from the living people, while arousing the somewhat sad thought of when the thankless moment would come to say goodbye to the world.

    But I pushed away bad thoughts, with such a beautiful sun.

    I stopped to contemplate that geometric and elegant road intersection (street Arianuova, street Guarini and the main street Ercole I ° d’Este, where tall buildings with exposed red brick walls rose, with large and important doors).

    On the right side the double row of poplars, as high as the three-storey houses, while the foliage danced in the light breeze, the cobbled street, flanked by white marble pillars, rounded at the top, about thirty meters one from each other, which gave elegance and lightness to the route.

    Turning my gaze to the left I could see at the end of the main street, centrally in the perspective, the mysterious tower, known as the house of the ducal family Este executioner.

    In truth, the executioner's house was inside the Este’s Castle, but over the years the things changed.

    I continued the bike ride to the Palace of the Diamonds, I passed the Massari park on the left, with a large iron gate for the entrance from main street Ercole I ° d’Este, full of ancient trees: cedars of Lebanon, ginko iloba, badgers, plane trees, which overlooked the surrounding wall until they fell back onto the road. The park was part of the sixteenth-century Massari palace, it was designed in 1780 for the Marquis Bevilacqua, from whom the military barracks further took its name.

    The Massari park inspired the writer Giorgio Bassani to realize the book Il Giardino dei Finzi-Contini, where was the tennis court, in whom the young friends used to play.

    In truth, the tennis court doesn’t exist there, because it was inside the garden of a house in Mascheraio street, recognizable by the great door a little inside in front of the street (sometimes open during spring visits to the gardens of Ferrara). And it is also recognizable the wall from which Micole protruded to say goodby to Bassani, after having climbed an internal wooden staircase.

    Bassani himself wrote there were even big rusty nails, still protruding from the wall willing to act as a ladder. I caught up with him on the second attempt, and, grabbing it, I was then quite easy to get to the top. You

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