We dream of our ideal house and the luckier ones among us are able to realise that dream and if we cannot find that house then we build it. Some even more fortunate dream of their ideal town and if they cannot discover it then they built it according to their visionary specifications. Italy has many examples of these urban reveries: Pienza, the city of Pius, rebuilt by Pope Piccolomini, Urbino, Federico da Montefeltro’s daydream and, my favourite, Sabbioneta, the ‘Sandy place’, Vespasiano Gonzaga Colonna’s creation, a World Heritage site since 2008 and a city since 2019.

These places are all examples of renaissance ideal cities dating from the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries with an inspiration deriving in part from that evocative painting on display in the Duke of Urbino’s fairy-tale palace which we visited here: https://longoio.wordpress.com/2014/04/29/a-fairy-tale-palace-par-excellence/

There is, however, a second reason why these towns were founded and that relates to the distribution of power in renaissance Italy. Sabbioneta is an excellent example of this for it lies in the centre of a strategic triangle consisting of the major powers of Mantua, Parma and Milan. It was, therefore, an excellent place for Duke Vespasiano to get away from the embroiling politics of those three major powers and enjoy a life of some independence.

I first came across Sabbioneta when returning to England on my Honda Transalp from a lovely touring holiday spent in central Italy. The vast flatness of the Po valley contrasted markedly from the rolling hills of Tuscany and Umbria. In the centre of the valley of Italy’s mightiest river stood the walled town of Sabbioneta.

I entered its brick bastions through Porta Vittoria.

Before me spread a compact and endearing urban centre.  Ten years later I visited it with my wife when we returned from a wedding in the Veneto region. It was great to see Sabbioneta again and to admire its sights.

Among these the most extraordinary is the ‘Galleria degli Antichi’, a gallery almost as long as that found in Florence’s Uffizi or the Vatican City’s map corridor.

This empty but beautifully decorated ‘corridoio’ once housed the Duke’s collection of antique sculptures which are now to be found in Mantua’s ducal palace.

The duke’s official residence is now the town hall and contains a fine collection of wooden equestrian sculptures including that of Duke Vespasian himself.

Sabbioneta is famous for having one of only three renaissance theatres to survive to the present age. (The other two are at Parma and at Vicenza which I describe in my post at https://longoio3.com/2018/11/04/vicenzas-palladian-splendour/ ).  Architect Scamozzi’s playing with perspective is enjoyable and I would have loved to attend a performance there. Perhaps one day I will.

Vespasiano’s tomb is located in the church of the Incoronata. During a recent restoration the Duke’s skeleton was uncovered and his badge of the order of the Golden Fleece bestowed upon him by King Philip II of Spain retrieved and put on display in Sabbioneta’s Museum of religious art.

The Ducal palace, like the gallery,is gorgeously decorated:

Like several other Italian centres the city contains a Jewish quarter which, during its heyday was a model of religious tolerance without any appearance of being a ghetto. Although the Jewish population has now largely left their synagogue, rebuilt in the nineteenth century remains and continues to be immaculately maintained.

‘Ideal’ cities have had a chequered history since the renaissance. True, in the nineteenth century places like Bourneville and Saltire have offered fresh perspectives on the problems of urban living but who would wish to live in one of the tower blocks of Le Corbusier’s ‘Ville Radieuse’ or the horrific concoctions now changing formerly low-level residential quarters into high-level nightmares.

Will there ever be a time for new’ ideal’ cities to find a place again in our urban pantheon? I wonder…   

It is a relief to be back in Italy. I’m talking of the weather in its broadest possible terms. The summer in London was disappointing when compared to last year’s amazingly sunny spread and the mixed messages regarding the pandemic given by an undecided government were not reassuring.

In our part of the Italian world autumn has only just begun to be felt and the foliage still remains largely green with, however, some glorious tinges of golds and reds. Days can be warm with temperatures reaching  twenty degrees centigrade but the early mornings and evenings are increasingly nippy with temperatures as low as four degrees centigrade.

We are glad to have returned to our little house in Longoio. London was fun in its kaleidoscopic variety of places to visit but is increasingly expensive to live. We are, however, lucky to be life members of the Arts Fund and are able to gain much reduced admission to many of its famous sights. In the case of Kensington Palace we were even given free entry on production of our membership card.

There is of course plenty to do here in and around Bagni di Lucca but many activities are constrained by pandemic regulations. The wearing of masks and the presentation of the Green Pass, showing that one has received both vaccination doses, is mandatory in most enclosed spaces.  Concerts and events have all to be pre-booked: there’s no point in just turning up. Lucca Comics and Games, which this year has a limited series of events, is sold out and the traditional autumn chestnut festivals are fewer. We are, however, lucky in that our area has its best features free of charge, without mask-wearing and Green Pass. I am, of course, referring to the wonderful natural landscape around us and the great chestnut forests which abound.

Recently I read an account of a British HGV driver who compared unfavourably his experiences working in the UK with those working on the continent. On the continent HGV drivers are paid better, have higher quality work-conditions, their job is truly considered to be a skilled and respected occupation, they have specialised parking areas allotted to them, have dedicated places to eat, in France called ‘routiers’, which have also become popular with other road users drivers because of their excellent cuisine and which, in consequence, have their own particular Michelin-type guide. In the UK on the other hand, HGV drivers are somehow considered ‘lower-class’ by the disgustingly class-ridden society which continues to survive in a post-imperialist nation. HGV drivers have to pay for their parking spaces, they are segregated into third-class eating areas and are often looked down upon in any type of overnight accommodation which, all too often, reduces to their cab because the alternative is so miserable. They have few if any washing facilities and often have to put up with the ire of impatient motorists on Britain’s grossly over-crowded roads

No wonder the issue of temporary visas to continental HGV drivers, booted out by the repressive-brexitionist government imposed upon the once happy island, has not been the resounding success in resolving the increasing supplier problem regarding in particular the distribution of petrol and the filling of supermarket shelves. Why abandon a perfectly good working life in the EU when the alternative in the UK is so scroogerish!

I, too, have experienced this discrepancy in the attitude towards certain types of road users in the UK when compared with the continent. As a motorcyclist, or biker, for much of my working life and as one for several of my most enjoyable holidays on the continent bringing me to visit the remotest hill villages of Italy and the most desolate of Polish towns I have noted how from being treated, in several instances in the UK, with my leathers as a Marlonesque extra from ‘The Wild One’ or as an Anglo-Saxon reincarnation of ‘Easy Rider’ (although my bikes were usually Honda Transalps chosen because of their SUV-like versatility and not Harley-Davidsons) my arrival at a continental hostelry was greeted to the extent that I did not even have to carry my pannier bags in the hotel because that job was done for me by the proprietor.

Why this difference of attitude towards certain types of road users between the third country the UK has become since the start of this year and the EU? One reason may be because, in Italy, for example, many car drivers are also scooter owners and riders during the working week and may even take out their Ducatis and Moto Guzzis joining a local biker association for a week-end spin. There is no either-or situation at all there as, sadly, is the case too often in the UK. Italian motorists may often be regarded as mad drivers but they know, in the majority of cases, what it’s like to be on two wheels rather than four and act and react accordingly. This applies not only to motorcyclists but especially towards cyclists in groups. (Is the collective noun for these a ‘bipedality’ of cyclists, I wonder?)

I am convinced more than ever now that we are still living in a dream-like (perhaps nightmarish might be a better word) feudalistic society in the UK. HGV drivers are regarded very much in the same way that mediaeval lords of the manor riding on their steeds might have regarded peasant carts dragged by oxen on their way to the market with their load of parsnips. Bikers today seem sometimes to be regarded by certain sections of society with the same suspicion given to lurking highwaymen donning their black cloaks on Shooters hill or some other disreputable suburban spot.

Until such retrograde classist-style attitudes change then clearly, like those turkeys voting for Christmas, unrepentant brexititionists will remain without their own turkey when the festive season, hopefully to be uncancelled this year, is inaugurated.

—

A recent afternoon stroll was through one of Europe’s largest urban farms, Mudchute, in the heart of London’s docklands.

The farm’s odd name derives from the fact that it is set on ground built up from silt dredged from the former Millwall docks.

When London’s port declined and the docks started being closed down to give way to international corporate skyscrapers there was a successful local campaign for an area on the Isle of Dogs to be saved as an open space. This is now occupied by a park and an urban farm founded in 1977.

The approach to the farm is via an avenue formerly used to manufacture hemp ropes. It has now become a leafy nature trail.

The farm specialises in several endangered domesticated species. For example there is a fine Tamworth pig, most closely related to the wild boar of which it preserves the tan colour and of which there are less than three hundred examples left. Sandra felt there was too much mud for the pig to wallow in but then mud is essential for pigs as they are unable to sweat.

There is also a variety of sheep, goats, lamas, cows, ducks, poultry, geese and rabbits.

Mudchute is a great centre for educating local schoolchildren into where such items as eggs and bacon come from and also for providing facilities for teaching horse-riding since the farm has a large stable.

The farm animals were very pleasant to see and made such a contrast with the skyscrapers to their north.

The latin phrase ‘rus in urbe’ (the country in the city) aptly sums up the concept of urban farms. I have subsequently found out there are over thirty such places in greater London ranging from small sites a handful of acres in area to some which extend over a hundred acres.

A useful web site to explore these farms and community gardens is at https://www.farmgarden.org.uk/your-area/london

It was an intensely cloudy day for our visit to a palace where a princess found solace in its sunken garden and where her wedding dress preserves a fairy-tale (dis)illusion.

First, however, we enjoyed exceptional playing of Johann Sebastian Bach’s organ music by Samuel Eriksson from Goteburg on the sublime clarity of the historic George England Pike organ at Saint Margaret Lothbury, one of our most beloved of City churches. To have the complete Schubler chorales completed by a fabulous prelude and fugue was a real treat!

The Broad Walk in Kensington gardens led us to a yet-again revamped royal palace.

We had not been impressed by its previous incarnation described here:

https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2015/02/24/kensington-palace-revamped-or-vamp/ .

This time, however, we found the results and, in particular, the display relating to Queen Victoria’s childhood very well done. Sandra’s critical letter sent to the palace authorities must have made them re-think! However, we found out that little Vicky had sadly as lonely a time there as a more recent princess of Wales.

As life members of the National Arts Fund we have free admission to the palace. Otherwise it is not cheap to visit although the tickets have been temporarily reduced to £19 since some rooms (including the cupola room) are closed because of a restoration project which also involves strengthening a whole floor of the building. Twelve million pounds were spent on restoration in 2015 and a similar sum is being lavished in 2021. No wonder ticket prices have more than doubled in the last five years (and donations are asked too…).

We entered the palace via the sunken garden beloved by the ‘princess of hearts’. Her statue impressed us more than the photos we had seen of it. Its setting could certainly not be more lovely.

Although I am by no means an enthusiastic royalist Diana holds a special place in my thoughts. I was part of the crowd outside Buckingham palace cheering her return from the marriage ceremony in Saint Paul’s cathedral and I was at Hyde Park witnessing the poignant funeral cortege pass by headed (now thought controversially) by two young princes and afterwards in Hyde Park to view the burial service on the big screen and hear that rather angry speech by Diana’s brother.

In the orangery the exhibition of royal dress designers which include such names as Hartnell, Messel and Emanuel was elegantly presented. The highlight was, naturally, that dress with the longest of all wedding trains (at 25 feet!) sumptuously decorated with 10,000 pearls and sequins and finished in the nick of time for the grand event by David (from Bridgend, Wales) and Elizabeth Emanuel … with the help of Elizabeth’s mum.

The Morning

Outside the Palace I stood with gladness
waiting for the open landau to pass;
good will touched people with a light caress
lacking difference of culture or class.

What is left of that day now? Betamax
video still plays back the scene
innocent of the mistakes and attacks,
the wedding album of what might have been.

I woke up early on that strange morning,
switched on the radio to hear faithless news.
Just once before felt I this sudden sting,
my mind was mute for who could I accuse?

The stark, unforgiving Sunday headlines:
Diana and Lover Dead and still the sun shines.

FP

The association between Napoleon and Italy is a strong one, particularly as the Emperor was a significant inspirer of Italian unification when, in 1805, he was crowned the first king of modern Italy in Milan cathedral. (The robes Napoleon wore for the ceremony may be viewed in Florence’s Stibbert museum).

True, the kingdom, which lasted until 1814, only covered the northern part of the peninsula and was largely a French dependency but it was an important step in the formation of the Italian Risorgimento, or reawakening of sentiments for the peninsula’s unification.

The association between Napoleon and Tuscany is even stronger. His sister, Elisa, became princess of our nearest city in Italy, Lucca, and in 1814 the Emperor of France, abdicated the throne and, by the treaty of Fontainbleau, was banished to the island of Elba (which we visited on a previous summer holiday).

This year the memory of the great but controversial military leader is particularly strong as it’s two hundred years since he died on May 5, 1821, of stomach cancer, on the remote island of Saint Helena where he had been exiled after his defeat in the battle of Waterloo.

We have followed the events and conferences of Lucca’s Napoleonic association for several years now. The topics covered range widely from such subjects as Napoleon’s favourite horse Marengo (now in Chelsea’s National Army Museum) to pageants, menus, dances, fashions and literary currents of his times.

We were, therefore, pleased to receive an invitation to the association’s autumn appointment with General Silvio Ghiselli and Colonel Vittorio Lino Biondi who will talk about specific aspects of Napoleon’s military history.

All interested persons are invited to the event which takes place on Tuesday 19 October at 5 pm at the headquarters of the Cassa di Risparmio di Lucca Foundation (Via San Micheletto n.3, Lucca),
The title of the conference is ‘From the mist of the Channel to the sun of Austerlitz’ and will concentrate on Napoleon’s campaign against the Third Coalition (1803-1805).

The event is free but places are limited and cannot be reserved. Use of a mask is mandatory and access is only with a ‘Green’ Passport showing that one has been fully vaccinated for Covid-19.

In this respect Italy makes a reassuring change from the UK where we have been staying. In London the wearing of masks in public transport and enclosed public spaces seemed to be at the discretion of the individual! Moreover, social distancing there appears non-existent, even in lifts and theatre and cinema seats. No-one ever asked me to show a Green passport either. No wonder the death rate from this ghastly disease is now beginning to rise again on the brexitanian island while Italy, so dramatically hit by the virus last year, has covid death rates now among the lowest in the world. (BTW the association has held a conference on vaccination in Napoleon’s empire. Stemming from Dr. Jenner’s discovery of the anti-smallpox vaccine inoculation was mandatory among sections of army personnel and also became fashionable among civilians, especially after a particularly serious outbreak of the disease in 1806.)

The end of Bond, James Bond? Won’t put in any spoilers here except to say it’s got the best of any 007 film we’ve seen: gripping car chases, wonderful Italian and Caribbean scenery, gorgeously challenging girls, terrific gun fights, the tenderest of sentiments and a strangely relevant bio-technical plot involving insidious nanobots and world dominance (or extermination…). Daniel Craig is masterly and excellently bows explosively out of his role and the longest Bond film to date does not lose one’s interest for a nanosecond. I was both shaken and stirred! Well worth our trip to Cineworld by Wembley stadium last night.

Even the rainiest of London days can have their charms.

Yesterday we visited my old school’s (Dulwich College) picture gallery hosting paintings in the world’s first purpose-built public art gallery (Sir John Soane 1811) to see an exhibition of woodcuts by Abstract Expressionist and Colour Field artist Helen Frankenthaler (1928-2011) including her masterpiece inspired by Puccini’s ‘Madama Butterfly’ (first picture in sequence below).

It was also satisfying to see the Monet Water Lily from the US and, of course, the rest of the gallery’s collection particularly strong in works by Poussin, Rembrandt and Gainsborough.

I first visited the Dulwich Gallery with my parents when I was a small boy. Since that time the gallery has always been for me ‘a place of the heart’. It gave me my first insight into the rich world of art without which my life would have been immeasurably poorer.

My English teacher, Mr Worthington, took our class to visit it during one of our lessons as he was shocked that so many pupils had never been there. Since those days there has been a considerable administrative change in the gallery’s running. It has become an independent entity from the college and it has also had to depend considerably on self-financing. This means that there is an entrance fee and also that there are special exhibitions which also require payment. Because of the exhibitions some rooms of the gallery have had their (mainly 17th century Dutch) paintings stored and, indeed, the whole collection has been re-hung, most recently this year. One might regret, or even deplore, these changes but it has guaranteed the gallery’s survival and, most importantly, defined it as a living centre ensuring that art doesn’t just stop after the ‘great masters’ but continues contemporaneously. I miss the old atmosphere but accept that challenging times require challenging solutions.

Last night at Covent Garden we attended a performance of Mozart’s ‘Die Zauberflote’.

In the gods but with the gods too! The story has everything in it from magic to farce to love. And the music…Everything from revenge arias to Bachian chorales to triumphant ensembles is there! The injured world is truly healed by this heavenly work.

(I remember a university girlfriend asking me whether I loved ‘The Magic Flute’. I said ‘yes I liked it’. Perhaps not too convincingly….for her it was clearly a leading question. Our relationship never really developed. From that moment her leading question has been adopted by me. Not so much asked but hinted at. I’m glad I’ve never had a need to ask that question to my wife.)