A Christmas Crib in the Trenches

Not all ‘presepi’ – Italian Christmas cribs – are pretty, traditional types depicting shepherds and their flocks, picturesque village houses and old crafts. In 2001, for example, I saw the following presepe in Bagni di Lucca:

This most poignant representation was set in Ground Zero and was installed in what is now the Banca di Roma building in the market square.

It must be remembered that just over three months had passed since the greatest peacetime atrocity against civilians had been perpetrated by Muslim extremists. Again, for Christmas 2011, that crib was recreated in the church of the Crucifix in Lucca – a very beautiful church once on the list of buildings at risk, but now thankfully being restored. It was called “Ground Zero ten years ago-ten years after” and was again created by the scene designer, Alessandro Sesti, who dedicated it to the tragedy of the Twin Towers in New York City, an event which truly changed the world.

An incredibly poignant presepe is the one we visited a few days ago in the former chapel of Saint Elizabeth, in the ex-Franciscan monastery of Borgo a Mozzano. It’s titled ‘Un Natale in Trincea’ – a Christmas in the trenches – and relates to one of the greatest tragedies and ineptitudes in the annals of military disasters: the Italian campaign in Russia of 1941-3 in which, out of a quarter of a million troops sent to the front, almost half never returned.

The presepe is strong meat to take emotionally, especially when one looks at the photographs of the abortive campaign which are displayed in a narrow trench-like corridor one has to pass through before reaching the actual crib itself.

First are the triumphalist pictures and propaganda of the ill-prepared Italian brigades setting out, largely on a Mussolini-inspired (Hitler didn’t ask for any Italian troops) one-way ticket, to the Russian front. Just gaze at the farewells between the young men and their sweethearts….

 

Then, after battles in which the Italians actually received praise for their bravery from the enemy Russians  – the Italian cavalry charge of Isbuscenskij still stirs the memory here..a sort of mediterranean equivalent of the ‘Charge of the Light Brigade – the terrible sufferings of the soldiers’ retreat with cardboard-thin boots and uniforms totally unsuited for temperatures which reached below forty centigrade. The photo of the brigade band below is almost absurdly unviewable.

 

The presepe was prepared by the Misericordia of Borgo – the voluntary ambulance and first aid body without which Italy’s medical services would be ineffective – and is dedicated to Borgo a Mozzano’s eighty victims of the Russian campaign . The idea was to create a dream of an Italian Christmas crib as imagined seventy five years ago by the starving, frostbitten soldiers on the Don River front when thinking of home.

 

The majority of the soldiers were Alpini, the famed Italian mountain troops, and the crib has the patronage of the National Presidency of the Alpine Association and the Municipality of Borgo a Mozzano. If one asks what alpine troops were doing in the vast Russian steppes the idea was for a quick blitzkrieg victory and then head for the Caucasian mountains and secure the oil fields for the Axis powers. As we know, this never happened and the lightning war degenerated into trench warfare stalemate until the overwhelming Russian victory at Stalingrad.

The display includes what the soldiers had to endure in the endless expanse of white snow and ice on the Russian plains, along the great river Don, during the Christmas of 1942. There are photos of the campaign during the advance and propaganda posters of the time, as well as the dramatic photos of the retreat.

A bit of background: since 1941, Italy, already present on several battle fronts of the Second World War, had been, alongside German, Romanian and Hungarian troops, inadvisedly involved in the attack on the USSR and, in 1941, had sent there a first contingent of 62,000 soldiers, part of the Italian expeditionary force in Russia (CSIR). In July and August 1942 other soldiers were sent to that front and the Italian contingent reached 230,000, formed in ten divisions. These included three Alpine divisions (the Cuneense, the Julia and the Tridentina). The whole was called ARMIR (Italian Army in Russia), also termed the eighth Army.

On Christmas day of 1942 the Russians began a strong and decisive counter-offensive against the invading armies. It was a Christmas which, for Italian soldiers, was the dramatic prelude to the beginning of an immense tragedy. On January 17 (feast of St. Anthony the Abbot) the order of withdrawal of Italian troops and those of the Axis allies was given. And so began the retreat across the endless steppes of the Don. It was a tragedy that concerned, above all, the Alpine Divisions. It is estimated that there were 85,000 Italian soldiers who did not return to their homeland throughout the Russian campaign. About 25,000 died in battle or in summary executions resulting from surrender, 70,000 were captured and, of these, only 10,000 were repatriated in the years following the end of the war.  Even as late as 1958 there were still 60,000 men unaccounted for. They probably disappeared in the snowstorms and in the suffering of the prison camps.

Among these were also the eighty men from Borgo a Mozzano, to whom the crib is dedicated. In this crib there’s a flower for all those soldiers who never received anything on their unmarked burial places. ‘Dispersi in Russia’ is a phrase that appears with monotonous regularity on Italian war memorials including the one at our nearby village of San Cassiano.

The heartrending crib is made even more poignant by its sound track of alpine songs. It would be an obvious statement to say that I was close to tears when I emerged from the ‘Presepe Della Trincea’. The pity of war indeed!

Living Cribs at a Home

‘Presepi’ (nativity cribs) in Italy can also be ‘viventi’, or living, with people rather than figurines enacting the protagonists in that great happening two millennia ago. For many years we played characters in Equi Terme’s brilliant presepe. One year, for instance, I was a wise man and another year a Roman governor. For more of this presepe do see my following posts:

https://longoio.wordpress.com/2013/12/10/no-room-at-the-inn-in-equi-terme/

https://longoio.wordpress.com/2013/12/15/of-dragons-irises-and-knights/

https://longoio.wordpress.com/2013/12/04/christmas-crib/

https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2016/12/28/a-living-crib-is-reborn-at-equi-terme/

Last week-end we visited another living crib: that of Marlia. This was a particularly special crib as it takes place in a’ Casa di Riposo’, a place which in the UK was once called a geriatric institution but now could be described as a rest home.

After a procession from Marlia’s stately parish church (which has been recently well-restored) the participants met before the little stable erected in the home’s main courtyard.

 

The new-born babe is always the latest to have seen daylight in the parish and the mum was suitably ecstatic.

 

Of the three wise men, Balthazar, King of Tarsus and Egypt, is traditionally black-skinned and carries myrrh.  Caspar, King of Sheba, brings frankincense and Melchior, King of Arabia, gold. In this case Balthazar was someone who immediately recognized my wife as they had recently met on the same train from Lucca.

 

Inclusiveness was also apparent in the participation of the home’s residents who enacted various occupations like bread-making, wool-spinning, fish-mongering and wood-working.

 

In the home’s extensive grounds a pen contained some other new births.

 

Marlia’s living crib has become an established event in the local community’s festivities. I’ve been a few times for medical check-ups at the adjacent heath centre but it was only thanks to Sandra that I found out about the crib. Who knows? Perhaps one day we’ll be enacting parts as inmates of the home….

 

 

 

Pieve Fosciana: the Land of Presepi (Christmas Cribs)

England has its nativity plays; Italy has its presepi or cribs. Making cribs is a characteristically Italian activity and dates back to at least the time of Saint Francis. Not only is it highly developed but it also presents an act of religious devotion like all tasks requiring a lot of patience! Our valley, because of its long-standing tradition of making figurines in plaster-of-Paris, is still central to this tradition.

Italy is world-famous for its presepi which are representations of the nativity of Jesus Christ. The inexhaustible invention of Italians in building the scene of the Saviour’s birth was amply shown to us when last Sunday we visited Pieve Fosciana, a beautiful town, next-door to Castelnuovo Garfagnana. Unlike the latter, Pieve didn’t suffer from intensive bombing during the last war that scarred that town and is largely intact.

‘Pieve’ means the parish church and the town’s main church is an impressive building dating back to the eighth century but now largely of eighteenth century appearance.

Next door to it is the chapel of Saint Joseph which at this time of year contains around forty ‘presepi’.

We visited the chapel last Sunday and I could not help feeling that I’d seen some of the cribs before.

Some of the scenes described the Annunciation and the Flight from Egypt:

This is when a blog comes in useful. In fact, Pieve Fosciana had contributed some of its delightful presepi to an exhibition held at Bagni di Lucca in 2014. I wrote a post about it which can be seen at:

https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2014/12/17/when-is-a-crib-not-a-crib/

Did this mean that our journey was wasted? Not at all! Apart from the antique setting of Pieve Fosciana we were able to see for the very first time Pieve Fosciana’s famous mechanical crib of which this is a video:

It was wonderful to see these cribs in their town of origin, especially when we had the whole place to ourselves.

What I missed most about the London version of Christmas were the presepi. I did see them in a few churches but they were pale reflections of the ingenuity of Italian cribs and clearly an import.  (In a similar fashion Italians have imported the Christmas tree from Nordic European countries).

Is it perhaps because Christmas has become an ever more secular festival and the reminder, in the form of presepi, of what actually happened on Christmas day two millennia ago might be too much for some cultures to take? I certainly hope not!

Below one of the few Christmas cribs I found in London (St Stephen Walbrook)

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Beauty Meets the Beast at Bagni’s Theatre

Amateur dramatics have never been so lively and stylish in Bagni di Lucca as in last Saturday afternoon’s performance by the local branch of the Red Cross of ‘La Bella e la Bestia’ (Beauty and the Beast) in the utterly packed Teatro Academico.

 

It’s several years that Croce Rossa volunteers have been putting on a winter show at Bagni di Lucca. I’ve described last year’s one, which was ‘La Sirenetta’ (The Little Mermaid), at:

https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2017/01/07/of-young-mermaids-and-aged-crones/

The combination of song and dance was quite magical and the technical back-up was superb. Every cast member pulled together in a musical enactment of Gabrielle-Suzanne de Villeneuve’s fairy tale, written in 1740, which was second to none. Two students from Lucca’s ballet school participated and our friend Roberto Lucchesi, nick-named ‘Coco’, was his inimitable self as the beauty’s dad.

 

Specially performed for the day of’ La Befana’, the show ended with the star appearance of the Italian children’s favourite witch who distributes sugar and spice and all things nice to them. She was also able to meet my 96 year old mother-in-law who thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon.

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Well done Croce Rossa Italiana Bagni di Lucca branch.  A volunteer is worth ten pressed men but in your case a volunteer is worth a hundred. I hope you received record donations for your worthy cause from the capacity audience.

Long may your tradition of Befana-celebrating-musicals continue !

A Great Architectural Historian Lost to Us

We’d been at school together when, as he reminded me in an email two years ago, I’d collaborated with him in his campaign to save the Victorian  railway bridge over the South Circular road at West Dulwich station.  Here is the old bridge, wantonly demolished in the 1960s with its fine ironwork and its two pedestrian arches.

Here is the standard ,  boring bridge replacing it:

West Dulwich Train Station

I also remember him, as a schoolboy, protesting against the filling in of the school’s north and south cloisters with plate glass, ruining the terracotta details of the arches and making nonsense of the whole idea of a cloister.

Before (my photos):

After:

On another occasion he explained to me the cut-off corners of the bases of the columns in the Lower Hall by showing an old photograph of the embellishments these corners once supported.

I met him as an undergraduate in his tower room at Cambridge. He was wearing a Victorian three-quarter coat which he had had specially tailored. ‘Would you like to hear some music?’ he asked and wound up a horn gramophone. I think he played something by Sullivan. On his desk was his impressive design for the facade of a new Cambridge College: neo-gothic at its finest.

It was a time when the university was divided between the ‘greys’, who wore ties, tweed jackets and short hair and the ‘new age’ who wore their hair long and dressed in jeans and caftans. I wasn’t sure what to make of my school-friend but sensed that he was rebelling against both the ‘greys’ and the ‘new-agers’. I remarked to him whether, with his architectural sensibilities, he liked living in a Victorian gothic tower which jarred potently with the classical symmetry of the adjacent senate house. He jokingly replied: ‘actually it’s the senate house which is jarring with the tower.”

Recalling his school and college days he bemoaned the fact that our generation was brought up in the full flowering of the welfare state where state grants enabled merit rather than money to gain places at the country’s best academic institutions. ‘We were so lucky then. Quite different from the difficulties of today’s youth,’ he added with reference to his own children.

Years later, when I was living and working in Greenwich, I wrote to him to ask for his support against the demolition of St Andrew and St Michael, a church designed by Basil Champneys (1842 – 5 April 1935) and Grade 2 listed.

Despite the facts that the building was listed and that its architect was a supreme practitioner in the arts and crafts style and designer of some very notable buildings like Manchester’s Rylands library, Oxford’s Rhodes building and Cambridge’s former Classical archaeology museum my friend was, again, unsuccessful.

However, it is thanks to his tireless campaigning against architectural vandalism that the traditional red telephone box designed by one of his heroes, Sir Giles Gilbert Scott, still survives in many parts of the United Kingdom.

 

I hesitate to think how often his heart must have been broken through the wanton destruction by modernist philistines of so many of his beloved buildings from an age when Britain brimmed with confidence, courage and a sense of continuity. With regard to good architecture I wrote this post on local power station in our Lucca area with, in mind, his book on ‘Cathedrals of Power’.

Thinking Twice About Your ENEL Bill….

The shadow of the valley of death inevitably tinges us all. 2017 was a year where I lost several friends and acquaintances both of the two footed and of the four footed variety and those losses took place relentlessly even up to the year’s final days. In Gavin Stamp so many people have lost a true friend, scholar, artist and ceaseless campaigner for all that’s worthy to stand as good and often great architecture in the world.

(On the Orient Express in the TV series of 2007)

Cutigliano in the Snow

How did we spend New Year ten years ago? We rented a little flat in Cutigliano, which is around forty minutes away by car from Bagni di Lucca on the road to Abetone, and took to the ski slopes.

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Cutigliano itself is full of quaint corners and some lovely buildings. I’ve talked about it in various posts, for example at:

Cute Cutigliano

The “New” Towers of Popiglio

Dreaming of a White March

A Wet Big Top

The Pass of the Mysterious Cross

Four wheels Bad, Two Wheels Good?

Cutigliano’s church, dedicated to Saint Bartholomew stands a little outside the centre of the town. It possesses a fine pulpit but has a bloody past. In 1537 a massacre between two rival families, the Panciatichi and the Cancellieri, took place within its holy confines. Following this event the old church was burnt down and rebuilt in the second half of the sixteenth century.

While we were there in 2008 it began to snow and Cutigliano was magically transformed.

Today at Longoio the weather continues damp and misty. We last saw blue skies three days ago – a major ‘perturbazione’ has enveloped Europe with high wind and lots of rain. We look forwards to it going away soon!

Italy’s Good Witch Lands on Bagni di Lucca

labefana2Tomorrow La Befana arrives. She is the generous hag who fills children’s stockings in Italy. A corruption of the word ‘epifania’ , the day commemorating the coming of the three wise men, la befana is celebrated with many festive events especially directed to children.

 

In Bagni celebrations start at 3 pm at the teatro academico. Brave the rain which seems continuous over the past few days and join in if you are around.

Potenza Operistica a Londra

Il museo londinese, ‘Victoria and Albert’, è il mio prelibato tra quelli tanti della capitale. Qualche mese fa è stata aperta un’entrata sul lato che dona ad una nuova piazzetta ricoperta di ceramiche luccicanti .

 

Questa piazzetta è stata creata da uno spazio occupato precedentemente da un centro termico. Il muro che lo confina è stato ‘aperto’ e trasformato in un colonnato.

 

L’architetto del complesso (che è costato 55 milioni di sterline) è Amanda Levete. Tutto questo, ovviamente, ha suscitato lodi e critiche. Il parere vostro?

Il cortile conduce a una nuova sezione del museo che contiene uno spazio espositivo sotterraneo di grandi dimensioni.

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La prima mostra aperta in questo spazio è dedicata alla potenza, la passione e la politica dell’opera lirica presentata in varii tableaux.

Si comincia con Monteverdi e ‘l’incoronazione di Poppea’, la prima opera ‘pubblica’ nel senso che gli spettatori erano ora i cittadini di Venezia e non più quelli di una corte aristocratica. Qui l’atmosfera dell’epoca viene mostrata tramite strumenti e oggetti di lusso.

 

Il biglietto d’entrata, a prezzo di circa venti euro, (prezzo normale per le mostre londinesi) include il noleggio delle cuffie che ricevano brani musicali automaticamente rivolti a quello che uno sta guardando senza che uno debba premere bottoni numerati sull’apparecchio.

Da Monteverdi si passa a Handel (Rinaldo) con una scelta di manoscritti, costumi per castrati e un’intera  sceneggiatura barocca con macchine teatrali.

 

Si entra, poi, nel mondo eccelso di Mozart e ‘Le Nozze di Figaro’. Qui è esposto il pianoforte che usò Mozart a Praga e il commovente ultimo suo ritratto, dipinto dal Lange e non completato (come, pure, si potrebbe dire della vita del compositore).

 

Verdi segue col ‘Nabucco’, inequivocabilmente legato al risorgimento.

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Una composizione fotografica di 150 teatri lirici d’Italia mostra come la lirica sia diventata pressoché l’ossigeno della vita musicale italiana per così tanto tempo.

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L’incanto italiano sparisce nella sezione seguente dove irrompe Wagner, seguito poi dal ‘Salome’ di Richard Strauss

 

La sensualità è ora avvolta in scandalo e sangue, come si vede nella testa del battista, scolpita da Rodin.

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La rivoluzione russa ora entra nel quadro con la ‘Lady Macbeth of Mtensk’ di Shostakovich. Di massimo interesse è un raro film che lo vede comporre l’opera negli anni trenta.

 

La mostra conclude col panorama contemporaneo dell’opera lirica con riferimento a compositori come Philip Glass e Stockhausen.

Non è che abbia imparato molto di nuovo su questa forma musicale, descritta dal Johnson nel settecento come ‘costosa e irrazionale’. Per i visitatori meno consapevoli sarà certo stata una rivelazione. Per me, invece, la meraviglia era di vedere così tanti oggetti iconici presentati qui: uno dei soli due manoscritti di ‘Poppea’ tra altre cose. Gli sponsor della mostra includono la Royal Opera House di Londra ed è ovvio che il motivo principale della mostra è quello di motivare più persone ad apprezzare la lirica, ancora considerata piuttosto ‘elite’ in Inghilterra. In più, vuole dimostrare che la lirica non è una forma musicale antiquata ma ha un futuro rilevante: poiché ha sempre fatto parte integrale della cultura occidentale con le sue risonanze politiche e passionali. Aggiungerei, però, che la mostra vuol anche fare bella figura alla nuova aggiunta museale e che, in questo modo, dimostra il costo e anche, un po’, l’irrazionalità della cultura contemporanea..