One of my fondest memories from my recent vacation to Italy was the Sunday my sister Priscilla and I spent at the Porta Portese outdoor flea market in Rome. There’s nothing I like more than a good market. (I think it’s in my DNA. I’m pretty sure my ancestors haggled like nobody’s business at the Grand Bazaar in Istanbul back in the day!)
Not wanting to disappoint our ancestors, Priscilla and I spent about two hours browsing the stalls at Porta Portese, picking out little trinkets here and there. We came across a table covered with old photographs, prints and books. I flipped through some of the vintage postcards, then moved on to the books. One in particular caught my eye.
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It was small and leather-bound with gold-gilded pages. I picked it up and glanced at the title page. Manuale di Filotea del Sacerdote Milanese by Giuseppe Riva. I had no idea what that meant, but there was something intriguing about it. Maybe it was the drawing of a nativity scene underneath the title.
“Excuse me,” I said to the saleswoman. I held up the book. “What is this?”
She flipped through it. “Hmm, it is a prayer book,” she said. She pointed to the handwritten inscription on the first page: S. Valentino – 21-11-1907. “See? From 1907.”
Wow, 1907. The history nerd in me was intrigued, but the “practical Pamela” in me was unmoved. What were we going to do with an old book we couldn’t even read? I put it back down on the table. Before I knew it, another customer had picked it up. Suddenly, I felt antsy. Priscilla and I looked at each other. I could tell what she was thinking. That was our book. We couldn’t leave without it, even if it was a silly purchase. As soon as the other customer put it down, we picked it right back up.
“How much?” I asked the saleswoman. She called over her husband. He seemed charmed by our interest in a book we couldn’t read. “For you?” he said. “Five euros. Would that make you happy?” I smiled. “Yes, we’ll take it.”
When we got back to New York, Priscilla and I showed off our flea market find to our sister, Kristin.
She was just as enchanted by it, especially by the inscription. It contained more than just a date:
S. Valentino – 21-11-1907
–Susanna–
Quando questo libro leggerai
Certo alla Giulietta penserai.
Kristin pulled up Google Translate on her phone and deciphered the message:
S. Valentino – 21-11-1907
–Susanna–
When you read this book
Be sure to think of Juliet.
S. Valentino? Could that mean St. Valentine or Valentine’s Day? And who was Juliet? Was that a reference to Romeo and Juliet?
Things only got more interesting. As the three of us continued to examine the book, we found three more clues. A single leaf pressed into the pages. A second leaf, this one heart-shaped and covered in writing we couldn’t read:
And, finally, a receipt of sorts. It’s hard to make out the words, but it appears to be for a package sent to someone named Francesco Ceircolo on December 21, 1908 for Valentine’s Day. Was Francesco the one who’d written the inscription to Susanna in the book?
I couldn’t believe it. Our Italian flea market find wasn’t just a cool prayer book from 1907. It seemed to have some sort of love story attached to it. (Although, to be fair, the romantics in us could be imagining that–I blame our ancestors for that too!)
Regardless, we have a bit of a mystery on our hands. Was the prayer book a Valentine’s Day gift from Francesco? Did Susanna reciprocate by sending Francesco something the following year? And what on earth does that leaf say?
Maybe you can help. Take a look at the photos and let me know in the comments if you have any insights.
Happy sleuthing!
