‘A Green thought in a green shade’, the title of the twelfth international conference held at Bagni di Lucca from the 8th to the 10th of this month, concluded with Marzia Minutelli’s talk on Umberto Saba’s thoughts about the relationship between the ‘civilization’ of man and the world of nature, with particular reference to his poem on his wife.
I would judge this conference one of the most enjoyable I’ve been too but then that naturally depends on one’s interests and several of mine turned up during these three days. Bareham’s talk, contrasting the sensuous qualities of Andrew Marvell’s garden with the pompous formality of Timon’s esplanade in Pope’s poem ‘on taste’, however did not take in the fact that both Timon, alias the first Duke of Chandos, and Burlington (who Pope regarded as the epitome of good taste) were friends and that Chandos, too, was a considerable connoisseur and patron, not only commissioning paintings by such artists as Bellucci but even employing the young Handel as his court musician from 1717 to 1719, during which period the exquisite Chandos anthems were composed.
The emphasis on Marvell (from which , of course, the title of the conference derives)was continued by Laura Giovanelli with her talk on ethics and the philosophy of ‘greenness’, particular relevance being given to the point that farming enclosures were to cast a massive change on the English countryside.
Emanuela Morelli’s exploration of the English garden as seen through the eyes of Jane Austen, extensively through ‘Pride and Prejudice’ (where the garden described still exists today in Kent) was most evocative.
Saturday’s opening talk by Martin Priestman had to be cancelled because of illness so we went directly into Paolo Bugliani’s exposition Tomas Browne’s ‘Garden of Cyrus’. At this stage everyone present must have realised how the garden becomes part of one’s sub-conscious and is, thus, differently interpreted by writers with a medical background, like Browne, or those with neo-classical pretensions like Pope: a pity more was not said about Pope’s famous grotto which still exists – in part – in Twickenham.
I looked forward with particular interest to Simona Beccone’s exposition of the importance of plants and flowers in Keats’ poetry. Indeed, in such poems as ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’, plants are included and combined precisely because of their medical properties and, here too, this hearkens back to Keats’ original beginnings as a medical student at Guy’s hospital. Of all romantic poets Keats must surely be the one whose mention of plants and flowers is not only the most bountiful but also, in terms of medical cures, the most knowledgeable. It seem, therefore, so sad, that he was unable to use them to stave off the terrible TB which terminated his all-to-short life. (Shelley’s ‘The sensitive plant’ was also mentioned, although here I feel the use of nature by the poet carries a more transcendent meaning. I would have liked a mention of ‘Epipsychidion’ in which the exquisite Narcissus Poeticus of the Prato Fiorito, which the poet loved so much, caused him to fall into a swoon through its perfume.)
Elisabetta d’Erme nicely compared musical settings of Tennyson’s ‘Maud’ by Balfe and Somervell respectively.
Alessandra Calanchi’s talk on eco-studies and the red planet was riveting. She compared the three literary stages in which Mars was seen respectively as a Utopia, a (pseudo-communist) menace and a useful place to colonize when the earth is finally depleted. Calanchi concentrated largely on the first thought-stage prevalent in the nineteenth century where Mars became a location where women could find equality and freedom. Indeed, the list of now-forgotten novels mentioned included one in which the author actually drew and gave names to the imagined flora she’d come across on the red planet.
Sunday started off with Vera Alexander, a young Dutch academic with an excellent knowledge of Italian, describing the multifarious psychological relationships garden writers have had with their subject. These could range from absolute love, almost identification with their creation to real conflicts with their time consuming bits of greenery. I would, however, have liked to have had Vita Sackville-West, the creator of Sissinghurst, mentioned in this context.
Giovanni Bassi, a student of the Scuola Normale Superiore Pisa, brought into the picture the flowers of Swinburne. I’d never given much thought to Swinburne before this talk but back at home downloaded the incredibly cheaply priced full works of the poet onto my Kindle and am now enjoying reading someone I’d always thought as pallid and diffuse. Quite the opposite in fact: Swinburne’s word-music and his use of flowers are quite ineffable!
Nicoletta Brazzelli’s explanation of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s ‘The Secret Garden’ revealed, as it should do to anyone who fully understand this beautiful book which may be enjoyed at all ages, the healing power of a garden. The garden’s secret restores two traumatised children and, indeed, serves as a metaphor for paradise itself.
The point that there could be more than one paradise was brought to the fore by Simon Gatrell’s exploration of Ursula le Guin’s Environmental Imagination. In particular, the novella in which a giant spaceship is heading with four thousand on board for an earth-like planet (so far away that it requires several generations before the destination is reached). Everything is bliss on board since all religions are banned and pure happiness encouraged, with all desires on tap. However, dissent breaks out when the destined planet is reached. There are those travellers who wish to land on the new planet, and who of course, have to lay down new rules to regulate the novel environment they have reached. On the other hand, however, there are those who are perfectly happy to continue the journey since for them paradise is the journey on the spacecraft and not the new planet. This actually fits into my own philosophy in which the journey is everything and the destination often a disappointment because the ending stands for my destiny which, frankly, I don’t’ want to know too much about.
To sum up: it’s a truly marvellous occasion when thee conferences turn up every year after the summer has cooled down. Disappointment after the sensations of a holiday spent in beautiful environments, whether in Italy or in foreign parts, whether by the sea or in the mountains, whether with friends or in one’s meditative solitude, can easily set in. What better way to make sense of one’s existence, to hear intelligent thoughts and opinions, the results of often passionate research, within the eminent confines of Bagni di Lucca’s ex ‘Tempio degli Inglesi’ (as the old duke of Lucca liked to call it), now better known as the ‘Biblioteca comunale’.
It’s just so sad that, despite excellent publicity, few ‘forestieri’ and even locals make it to these events. Do they really think that food for thoughts consists just of eating pizza and that mental refreshment is just swilling down gallons of wine?
As always, thanks are due to those who organise these events, which surely are the high point of our town’s intellectual thermometer. In particular, however, the final word of thanks and gratitude must go the Fondazione Montaigne under the inspired directorship of Prof Marcello Cherubini without whose presence these events would never have taken off.
Onwards then, to the thirteenth international conference next year! And please remember that thirteen is a lucky number in Italy. Which subject shall be chosen for next year? How could it possibly equal the charm of this year’s theme? But I’m sure it will be every bit as interesting as it has been this year.
Here are some photos from the international conference:
