Italy is waking up to its most right-wing government since the collapse of the fascist regime in 1945. It’s also getting its first woman prime minister. So for some half the news will be bad and half good. Women’s rights mixed up with the successors to a regime which denied voting rights to women? The ‘Fratelli d’Italia’ party emerged out of the ashes of the Movimento Sociale Italiano led by Giorgio Almirante, that unredeemed admirer of the Italian Social Republic, the puppet government set up by Signor Mussolini with the help of Herr Hitler after the 1943 so-called armistice which split Italy into two and started a civil war traumatising the country especially our Lucchesia and Garfagnana traversed by the Gothic line.  

There’s one big difference, however, between what happened to fascism and what transpired with Nazism. In Germany devoted Nazis were ejected from their former jobs and tried (and sometimes executed) at Nuremberg thus purging the defeated nation of National Socialist believers. In Italy an attempt was made through the policy of ‘epurazione’ to do the same but without much success for only a fraction of Mussolini’s acolytes were removed from the offices they held. Why this? Because if they had been fired from their jobs and perhaps even fired at against the execution wall the nation’s government would have collapsed completely. The disciples may have worked for a fascist regime but they still kept the nation going. Thus many of Benito’s ex-grandees continued to influence Italian politics long after the monarchy had been expelled in the 1946 referendum creating a problem which Italy still has had to face particularly during the infamous ‘anni di piombo’ (years of lead).

Clearly, fascist doctrine has metamorphosed into a new neo-fascist formula. For women the voting booth has been added to that sacred trilogy, the kitchen, the family and the church. Purity of race (which only entered into fascist ideology with the obnoxious racial laws of 1938) has been replaced by the proposal to blockade ports exporting Africans and Asians to Italy’s overcrowded immigrant asylums. Other factors like jobs for the boys and (now particularly) for the girls are emphasised together with a plea and encouragement for Italians to produce not only brilliant wines and cheeses but also more bambini: Italy has a negative population growth at present. At least the ‘Fratelli’ will no longer be brothers with the Russian bear.

The relationship with the EU has been somewhat tempered and Giorgia Meloni’s former Euroscepticism has largely disappeared especially when she has taken stock of the disastrous situation Brexit has plunged the UK in with a pound sterling value now at the lowest it’s been since decimalisation fifty years ago.

What the single mother without a university education and with a clarion-like voice from a working-class Rome suburb has done above all is to re-establish pride into many Italians in being Italians and given the suffering peninsula a boost of hope.

What’s in it for today’s British residents in Italy? One thing is certain: under proposed changes they cease being that genteel term ‘ex-pat’ and become what they really are: immigrants.  Furthermore, those brits who are on the way to becoming Italian citizens (and maybe even obtaining an Italian passport to avoid the so-called ‘leper queues’ at  Italian airports) may find their citizenship path a little rockier including a toughened-up language test which for many monoglot brits may be a bit harsh to take.

Naturally, many will say (like every one of the seventy- odd governments the Italian nation has had imposed on it since the Republic’s formation in 1946) that Meloni’s premiership won’t last very long. However it is a revolutionary step in this politically martyred country for a woman to be at the nation’s helm (President Mattarella willing, of course) and that Italy has in some way reconnected itself with an inter-war period which many of the old guard still find inspiring. Incidentally, am I alone in suggesting that the majority of women prime ministers seem to come from right-wing parties? (Just thinking of the UK…). I wonder why?

With regard to endings of previous governments, regimes, lives (and lies?) last night I attended a very competent performance of Mozart’s farewell to the world: his immortal Requiem, a work infused with arcane mysteries ranging from Sussmayer through Salieri to Pushkin and the Milos Forman film.

The concert took place in the Santa Maria dei Servi church within Lucca’s walls and was very well attended. It was the first autumn concert presented by the Animando music association. The Requiem was conducted by Bulgarian Grigor Palikarov, director of Sofia’s national opera and ballet composer and performers were the ‘Nuove Assonanze’ orchestra and the Montughi Choir directed by Enrico Rotoli. The soloists were Spanish soprano Eulalia Ara, mezzo-soprano Isabella Messinese, tenor Mentore Siesto and bass Alessandro Ceccarini. Despite the fact that not all parts of the Requiem were written by Mozart, it is possible to recognize all the characteristics of his style: in particular the dramatic intensity he achieved in his mature works.  I was particularly moved by the Lachrymosa section which our local choir at Bagni di Lucca has performed but the whole work inspires despite the fact that it does make all think very hard about the final objective of life!

Let us hope that the new Italian government may similarly help us to concentrate our minds!

The church of San Michele in Foro is one of the finest of Lucca’s hundred churches (actually Lucca has only ninety nine churches!) and is appropriately located in Piazza San Michele. The ’foro’ in its title refers to the fact that this was the site of the Roman forum and the piazza remains a busy central location in today’s city. The church is located on a stone dais bordered by marble columns connected by heavy metal chains and is flanked on all sides by medieval buildings.

San Michele has a Latin cross plan and is strongly influenced by the Pisan Romanesque style. The façade is adorned with four orders of loggias and surmounted by a large marble statue of the archangel Michael, with metal leaf wings, in the act of defeating a dragon with a spear with two angels, one on each side of him. I’m told that in particular light conditions it’s possible to see a green sparkle coming from the statue which, according to legend, is an emerald set in ancient times and never found. I regret I have not been lucky enough to see the sparkle. Perhaps I need to be further spiritually enlightened!

In respect of the subject I have this poem on Saint Michael:

MONT SAINT MICHEL

Saint Michael, light’s archangel, ring with fire

the subterfugeal dragon with your sword;

in heaven’s war lamed souls once more aspire

to walk the fragrant gardens of their Lord.

You speak from burning crests and keep the Word

creating sky and earth, the wind and sea;

and cast from north to south a line to gird

with strength this pilgrimage and set me free.

Beyond jade mountains lead, resist and fight:

your shrines are fortresses within men’s hearts

encased by swirling tide and gargoyled height,

enfolded in veiled clouds and shrouded arts.

Perfected force, revealing energy,

through your pellucid eyes at last I see.

*

MONTE SAN MICHELE

San Michele, arcangelo della luce, anello di fuoco

il drago sotterfugi con la tua spada;

nella guerra del cielo le anime zoppe aspirano ancora una volta

per camminare nei giardini profumati del loro Signore.

Parli dalle creste ardenti e mantieni la Parola

Volando il cielo e la terra, il vento e il mare;

e getti dal nord al sud una corda per cintare

con forza questo pellegrinaggio e liberarmi.

Oltre le montagne di giada guidano, resistono e combattono:

i tuoi santuari sono fortezze nel cuore degli uomini

racchiusi dalla marea vorticosa e l’altezza gargugliata,

avvolti in nubi velate e arti arcane.

Forza perfezionata, energia rivelatrice,

attraverso i tuoi occhi chiari finalmente vedo.

*

We were at the lovely church of San Michele in Foro last Saturday for the annual concert for the feast of Saint Michael the archangel. It was the first concert to be given there after the ghastly pandemic and so was a particularly poignant and important occasion.

I have written about previous Saint Michael Archangel concerts at:

2015

Magnificent San Michele Mass | From London to Longoio (and Lucca and Beyond) Part Two (wordpress.com)

2016

Vespers for the Archangel Michael | From London to Longoio (and Lucca and Beyond) Part Two (wordpress.com)

On each occasion I have been impressed by the fine performances given by the Polifonica Lucchese choir and was particularly looking forwards to this occasion after the two years absence. This was the programme:

 I consider Egisto Matteucci to be one of the finest conductors in our region with an unequalled brilliancy in dealing with choral music. Indeed, one of my English Tuscany resident acquaintances, herself a music teacher, has participated in Egisto’s choir and has nothing but praise for his technique and approach. On this occasion our local church choir conductor joined the Polifonica Lucchese together with his brilliant early music group ‘I Stereotipi’.

Mozart’s Mass in C minor K. 139 is called the Orphanage (’Waisenhaus’) Mass, because it was commissioned by Father Ignaz Parhammer for the consecration of the Waisenhauskirche (Orphanage Church) in Vienna on December 7, 1768. Mozart’s age at the time? Twelve. Unbelievable (almost). But, as someone quipped Saint Michael and his angels might sing Bach if they address God but prefer to sing Mozart among themselves!

(Vienna’s Orphanage church)

At Mozart’s time two types of Masses were composed for Sunday worship: the ‘Missa Brevis’ or short Mass for standard occasions and the ‘Missa Longa’ (also sometimes called ‘Missa Solemnis’) for more important church’s calendar events. Mozart’s Mass may be clearly described as a ‘Missa Solemnis’ because of its length and instrumentation which includes three trombones giving the work a particularly noble and dark sonority.

As a ‘Missa Solemnis’ Mozart uses the form of the cantata mass with arias, duets and choruses  The ‘Sancto Spiritu’ of the Gloria and ‘Et vitam venturi saeculi’ of the Credo are each composed as fugues as was then customary. And what learned fugues for someone who was not yet a teenager! I was particularly impressed by three feature of the work: the soprano solo on the word ‘Resurrexit’ just before the choir steps in, the Gloria’s ‘Hosanna’ a melting soprano solo with choral interjections and the incredibly lively string figurations throughout the composition. It seems truly unbelievable that this masterpiece should have been composed by someone so young at a time when children today are busy with play-stations or skateboarding yet here was someone producing a complex liturgical piece of music for full choir and orchestra complete with double fugues and virtuoso arias which were rightly praised by the highest authorities of the age.

The concert’s two sacred compositions define Mozart’s entire compositional course: the ‘Waisenhaus’ Mass dating back to 1768 and the short and intensely felt ‘Ave Verum’ from 1791, the year of the composer’ death, written for the Corpus Domini solemnity. The contrast between the intricacies of the biggest work Mozart had composed until then to the calm, resigned simplicity of the little piece of meditative music seemed to show me that perhaps the greatest (and most difficult) thing in art is to achieve purity and conciseness of expression in all communication.

I need not qualify the evening’s performance except to say that the soloists were well up to their task and that the choir was most incisive. The magisterial conducting of Maestro Matteucci was full of energy and sensitivity, particularly remarkable when one thinks that his health has not been very good.

I wish Egisto Matteucci and his band all the best for a return to normalcy after the trials of the pandemic and definitely look forwards to their Concerto per San Michele for next year. It remains truly one of the highlights of the Luccan musical year and this showed in the packed church from which so many had to be turned away because of lack of space.

After the concert it was delightful to walk through Lucca in a gentle drizzle. We have really missed the rain here! But let not too much of the wet stuff fall now; we don’t want to face the tragedy so many in Italy have already faced with flooding and landslides.

I would like to thank Alexandra Cipriani for taking most of the photos in this post.

This is our former home in Italy which is for sale. It is situated on the outskirts of the village of Longoio fifteen minutes from Bagni di Lucca, Tuscany and is fully detached. The house consists of two living rooms, kitchenette, storage room, landing, four bedrooms, bathroom, three terraces and is surrounded on three sides by a garden and on the fourth by a wood which is part of the land.

Among features of the property is a solar conduction roof panel providing hot water, satellite dishes for both television and internet, gas central heating supplied from a 1000 litre gas tank, and double glazing throughout,

The asking price is Euro 145,000 (negotiable).

Here are some pictures of ‘Lo Scoiattolo’:

Exterior

Living Room

Kitchen

Music room

Cellar

Bedroom 1

Bedroom 2

Bedroom 3

Terraces

Bedroom 4

Bathroom

For further information please contact Francis and Sandra Pettitt at

Tel (0039) 339 128 2757

Email: fpettitt@gmail.com

Corsagna is that relatively rare village in our part of the world: an almost entirely self-sufficient one – at least socially. It has own sports centre, its own and well-regarded philharmonic band (which in Italy is the equivalent of an English military band since both brass and wind instruments are allowed). It has a selection of shops, bars, a restaurant famous for its tordelli (local ravioli-like pasta) and even a little industry. Most importantly it has its own school where a friend teaches and produces excellent projects with the children including a story book about what happened there in World War II. Although Corsagna belongs to Borgo a Mozzano comune I feel, with its population of over six hundred inhabitants, that it’s big enough to make up its own comune.

Corsagna is also a significant crossroads in terms of local mountain roads. From it routes lead to both Borgo a Mozzano and Chiffenti and an adventurous unmetalled road takes one through thick forests to the Pizzorne plateau. (See A Day in the Pizzorne – From London to Longoio (and Lucca and Beyond) Part Three (wordpress.com) for a description of this plateau).

I like to go through Corsagna as an alternative route from Bagni di Lucca to Borgo a Mozzano, creating a pleasant change and taking in some great views. I remember that on one occasion this was the only way of getting back home. That was a few years back when the Halloween festivities at Borgo had attracted so many people that all the main roads were blocked for hours.

Corsagna is spread out extensively on a sort of plateau four hundred metres above sea level. Its domestic architecture can be quite dignified and there are many corti (or houses spread around inner courtyards). The settlement also has a surprising number of rioni (or quarters) whose names are Pozzo, Verace, Fucina, Fabbriche, Cantone, Lama and Postabbio.

In terms of religious buildings besides its parish church dedicated to Saint Michael the Archangel Corsagna also has what must surely be the most beautiful sanctuary in our area. The Madonna della Serra (a word which can mean a greenhouse but is here stands for a hilly range) is dedicated to Our Lady of Consolation and is situated a little distance away from the village in a beautiful chestnut forest. The building dates back to the early 16th century and is built in an elegant rustic-baroque style. The exterior is highlighted by terracotta ornamentation including three statues with a central one of the Madonna

In the sanctuary’s spacious three-aisled interior there is a valuable and venerated painting by Jacopo Mantovani, dated 1596, depicting the Madonna enthroned with Child; at her feet the holy deacons Stephen and Lawrence are kneeling.

Incidentally what is a sanctuary or ‘santuario’? It is a sacred place or a building considered sacred by religious tradition for divine manifestations, for the presence of burials or relics, or because it is connected to supernatural events. In particular, it is a place linked to divine manifestations of the Madonna and is therefore the object of pilgrimages.

The other day we took a pleasant walk to the sanctuary and enjoyed a picnic there with gorgeous views. I thought how a village could have such a magnificent shrine but realized that among the chestnut woods surrounding it there was once a village called Serra of which no trace now remains except for a farmstead. There are so many abandoned villages in Italy and not all of them have been left in the country’s flight to the city which took place after World War II. In this case a plague may have caused the population to depart.

Every five years a solemn feast sees the painting taken to the parish church of Corsagna’s and its return to Serra with a solemn procession on the last Monday of August. Let’s hope that one year we will be able to enter the building for the first time and attend what must be a particular colourful and important event for the people of Corsagna and their stylish sanctuary, the ‘Santuario Della Nostra Signora Della Consolazione di Serra’.

For a little under two hours we were transported from the solemn statuary and quirky frescoes of Saint Francis convent church at Borgo a Mozzano to the salons of Napoleonic Italy, the cafes of Hapsburg Vienna, the Puszta of Hungary and the night-clubs of Buenos Aires courtesy of a phenomenally gifted violin and guitar duo, Ladislau Petru Horvath and Nuccio D’Angelo.

This was their programme:

 The opera excerpts consisted of Puccini arias and two Mascagni intermezzi transcribed for solo violin and played with virtuosistic double-stopping. I could never have imagined this sort of transcription in my wildest dreams but then I have heard the same done on solo double-bass. Was it musically effective?   In some sort of way it was especially if one is a brilliant violinist and has no supporting orchestra or singers!

The musicians praised the church’s acoustics which lend themselves well to most kinds of musical combination. I remember the performance of Saint-Saens’ Christmas Oratorio I sang as a member of the choir there some years ago. That same choir sang the Saint-Saens at Equi Terme when an earthquake had hit the town: https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2015/10/04/our-choir-sings-for-saint-francis-at-equi-terme/

After the concert we were invited to a reception in the attractive gardens of the convent which is now a rest home. It was interesting to talk to the violinist with his mittel-European background about such subjects as the Austrian Empire, the current state of Hungary and his experience of that mythical conductor Celibidache while enjoying a glass of wine and a home-made cake.

Further concerts in this series organised by intrepid local guitarist Giacomo Brunini include the following.

As if these weren’t enough to be getting along with I’ve two musical gems listed down which will certainly not want to be missed:

They are Mozart’s ‘Weisenhaus’ Mass performed by a choir including my friend’s Stereotipi group at Lucca’s San Michele in Foro this coming Saturday at 5 pm and, on the following Sunday another Mozart Mass, this time his Requiem again at 5 pm in Lucca but this time in the De Servi church.

I am quite sure that this last item must in some way reference the awesome event we witnesses yesterday in respect of Queen Elizabeth’s funeral at Westminster Abbey and her internment in Saint George’s chapel in Windsor. We admit we were glued on and off the screen for much of the day for this once-in-a-life-time event of supreme historical and emotive significance.

We were there for the Queen mum’s lying-in-state and there was some regret that we were not in London this time for her own. However, friends (thanks Trine!) were there and sent us these photographs:

 A whole era has gone with the Queen’s death which has represented so much of our own life-span. As for those anti-monarchical spoilsports who derided the whole occurrence I should just say this that I couldn’t disagree more. Please remember that of the twenty-seven members of the European Union seven are hereditary monarchies. That’s almost a third! In addition three other hereditary principalities (Monaco, Andorra, and Liechtenstein) remain affiliate members. All these dynastic states happen to be among the most stable, liberal and prosperous countries in the EU. They are also happy to remain in that Union unlike the UK which voted itself out not because of any influence by the monarch but through a skewered campaign of lies by oligarch-funded western capitalists.

Queen Victoria united dynastic Europe through the marriages of her children. Queen Elizabeth united a post-war Europe through her magnetism, her smile, her dignity, her courtesy and her supreme sense of human values. She will never be forgotten. May her soul rest in eternal peace.

How may I thank you for the light you shone,
for grace you gave the country that I love?
Among green hills I stay while you are gone
past the rainbow, flying with the white dove.

You marked my life: I counted my first years
with yours and in the sunset of these days
your radiant smile discards all mindless fears,
your brightest eyes release hope’s golden rays.

Earth’s votary you were and now you are
within His temple’s sempiternal room.
Your glorious presence seems both near and far:
A red, red rose that shall for ever bloom.

You my loved Queen, the pattern of my life,
rest in hallowed peace, sleep beyond all strife.

1926-2022

Come posso ringraziarti per la luce che hai brillato,
per la grazia che hai dato al paese che amo?
Tra verdi colline rimango mentre te ne vai
oltre l’arcobaleno, volando con la colomba bianca.

Hai segnato la mia vita: ho contato i miei primi anni
con i tuoi e nel tramonto di questi giorni
il tuo sorriso radioso scarta tutte le paure insensate,
i tuoi occhi più luminosi liberano i raggi dorati della speranza.

Seguace della Terra eri e ora sei
nella stanza sempiterna del Suo tempio.
La tua gloriosa presenza sembra vicina e lontana:
Una rosa rossa, rossa che sboccerà per sempre.

Tu mia amata Regina, il modello della mia vita,
riposa in santa pace, dormi oltre ogni conflitto.

So many events had been called off as a sign of respect for the death of Her Majesty the Queen that we thought even Barga’s Scottish weekend might also be cancelled.

We should not have been so concerned. The Queen loved her Scotland, and especially her pipers and country dancing when in residence at Balmoral. What could be more apt for us that to enjoy those activities in remembrance of the joyful aspects of her seventy years reign, her spry sense of humour and her devoted sense of duty and concern for her subjects? So on the day when Her Majesty’s coffin lay in state in Edinburgh we too enjoyed a memorable day in the streets of Italy’s most Scottish town, Barga.

Barga’s Scottish connection stems largely from the emigration of many of its citizens in search of work in Scotland which they amply found working first as figurinai (or statuette-makers) and then as restaurateurs, particularly in fish and chip shops. Those days of Barghigiana poverty have long since gone. Barga citizens who struck it lucky in Scotland returned to build elegant art nouveau villas in their birth-town (described in my post at A New Town at Barga – From London to Longoio (and Lucca and Beyond) Part Three (wordpress.com) . Those who remained in Ultima Thule built up thriving businesses. We met one of them at Barga: someone who designed Italy’s own tartan!

Michael Lemetti is a 3rd generation Scots-Italian from Falkirk, in Central Scotland whose family has always been mainly involved in the retail and catering business. Michael researched the concept of an Italian Tartan – resulting in the first approved ethnic tartan in Scotland – The Italian National Tartan which was registered in 2004 with the Scottish Tartan Authorities and has also received the approval of the Italian Government. Sandra bought a lovely Italian tartan woollen scarf from Michael. After all she has the right to wear one, both her parents being Italian!

Sustenance for the afternoon was guaranteed by at least five different varieties of Scottish brew including a red beer at 8% proof, whiskeys galore and ..

to finish off  … a pizza.

The highlight of the afternoon was the entrance of two bagpipers in full regalia. I love the swirl of the pipes! And when the pipers intoned a pibroch in memory of Her late Majesty I absolutely melted. There can be nothing more evocative than to hear this haunting classical form of Highland music with its subtle ornamentations and complex variations spread not just through the land of heather and red deer but across the mediaeval streets of old Barga to the peaks of the Apuan mountains.

If this wasn’t enough to stir the emotions a display of Scottish dancing with invitations for the spectators to join in followed. Again, as with the pipers, there was a wonderful ethnic amalgam of Italian and Scottish participation for so many Scots in Barga have Italian blood in them and, conversely, so many Italians have ‘Albione’ coursing through their veins.

In these strange days marked by solemn ceremony and sombre grief at the passing of what may truly be described as perhaps the greatest monarch and most gracious Lady of our time I felt it was totally appropriate to enjoy dancing and piping and enter that uplifting atmosphere which the Queen greatly delighted in during her Balmoral summers especially as it was for her pleasure and freedom from the stiff formalities of Buckingham palace.

Was this some undiscovered sheet of pen drawings by Piranesi hitherto hidden within an ancient baroque cupboard in an abandoned monastery? The classical vaults, the nightmarish arches, the infinitude of corridors might be leading me to this conclusion? No. Of course not. It could not be. The paper was unyellowed by age, untainted by worms.

I turned another page in the album. The horrors of war! The same phantasmagorical apparitions fed one’s nerves whether they were depicted by Goya in the Peninsular campaigns or by an intrepid reporter on the Ukrainian front. Such ghoulish visions, such disregard for humanity, such hopelessness! Could there not be any comfort to be found in this world?

I searched deeper into the leaves. Perhaps there in the corner where a honeyed Madonna caressed her new-born child? Images of Correggian cupola frescos sprang to mind.

Now here was something rather more familiar, more reassuring. Our elegant casino, with its cornucopia of musical instruments depicted in stucco on its frieze, was accurately bordered.  

And that river-scape, so special in its contours in its variegated tree-line, that river-scape as fine and individual as any to be found along the world’s water-courses.

Just then I heard a sharp thrusting crack from outside. ‘A branch has broken off a tree by the river weir’. I looked across the waters of the Lima stream, newly replenished by the recent thunderstorms. The torn naked patch on the holm-oak’s trunk showed where its arboreal tributary had fallen. The sight brought me back from blissful scenes of idyllic pastoral worlds to the brutal but natural reality of life.

I returned to view other frames:  from the incisiveness of black Indian ink on pale paper to the seductiveness of impressionist flowerings of colours à la Berthe Morisot. But were all these visualizations from the same hand?

Of course they were! I know few who could weave their own midnight dreams and day-time gallery visits so succinctly, so fluently, so affirmatively into their art.  Each pen stroke, each movement of the nib, each gradation of a single colour, each variation of one line: a subtle dexterity fully describing Paul Klee’s famed phrase of’ taking a line for a walk’. Yes, truly the artist before my eyes was taking me for a walk with her lines; a walk where anything could be met from the wildest monsters to the gentlest angels to the most familiar landscapes.

The artist? Yes certainly someone with a strong background in graphic art combined with great talent and patience and someone whose creations stem from a self-taught perspective. So who is she? There I have given her sex away! You can find out more by going to Bagni di Lucca’s casino at Ponte a Serraglio where, thanks to the efforts of Valerio Ceccarelli of the town’s Pro Loco tourism association, a new exhibition centre has opened which has already displayed some fine exhibitions including those by Morena Guarnaschelli and Eva Alessandra Lombardi. It’s open Monday to Saturday mornings and Friday and Saturday afternoons.   But the artist’s name? Deenagh Miller!

La reazione dell’Italia alla morte della regina Elisabetta II mi ha sorpreso e commosso profondamente. Le trasmissioni radiofoniche e televisive non solo sono piene delle solite speculazioni politiche, chat show e documentari storici, ma sono anche piene di sinceri auguri di cordoglio da cittadini di ogni ceto sociale in tutta la penisola.

Purtroppo mi sono imbattuto in alcuni commenti negativi da parte di certi nati nelle isole britanniche ma quasi nessuna interpretazione sfavorevole da parte degli Italiani. A questo riguardo anch’io sono forse stato negativo ed è per questa ragione. Di recente, qualche giorno prima della morte della Sovrana, la Fondazione Montaigne presentò un concerto presso la chiesa inglese della Bagni di Lucca (ora biblioteca civica). Alla fine del performance l’inno nazionale inglese fu cantato da una solista e… non mi sono alzato in piedi! A mia discolpa aggiungo che nessun altro l’ha fatto. Tuttavia, ho ricevuto delle osservazioni per questa lesa maestà da due membri del pubblico che hanno giustamente affermato che sembrava un comportamento poco inglese. Ho risposto che avevano ragione a notare questo e mi sono sentito umiliato. Perché non mi sono alzato? Forse perché mi sono intuito imbarazzato a farlo tra un pubblico prevalentemente italiano, cittadini di una repubblica? Se qualcun altro si fosse alzato, allora chiaramente mi sarei unito alla loro azione. Tuttavia, mi sono sentito un po’ come un San Pietro dopo che il gallo avesse cantato tre volte. Lo vivrò mai ora come un inglese nella società della nostra città, mi chiedo?

Tuttavia, non sarei stato sorpreso dalla reazione comprensiva e amabile dell’Italia al lutto della Gran Bretagna. I suoi cittadini, privati ​​della propria monarchia a causa del referendum del dopoguerra che ha istituito la Republica e con la loro attrazione verso un paese europeo orgoglioso di distinguersi da “Il continente”, sono sempre stati affascinati da cose britanniche che vanno dai giardini paesaggistici agli autobus a due piani, da Shakespeare al fish and chips, da Sherlock Holmes ai Beatles. Soprattutto sono affascinati dalla famiglia Windsor e, aspettando nell’ambulatorio del mio dottore a sfogliare le riviste sono diventato ben informato sulle vicende della nostra famiglia reale nel bene e nel male.

Nonostante l’orrore del brexitismo (alcuni cinici direbbero proprio per questo) la maggioranza degli italiani continua a rispettare la Gran Bretagna e l’inglesità. Lo scambio culturale tra i due paesi nel corso dei secoli è stato prodigioso. L'”opus anglicanorum” medievale nei tessuti delle chiese abbellisce i musei ecclesiastici di tutta Italia. Pisa, che possiede un antico reliquiario di San Tommaso a Becket per la propria cattedrale, è anche il luogo dove Chaucer fu inviato come funzionario governativo dalla corte inglese di re Edoardo III e, tornando a casa, al palazzo reale di Eltham con i testi di Boccaccio, Petrarca e Dante che hanno ispirato la stessa scrittura, compresi i “Racconti di Canterbury”, cambiò il corso della letteratura inglese.

 L’ispirazione dell’Italia ha continuato nel ’grand tour’ degli aristocratici inglesi che edificarono le loro dimore di città e di campagna in stile palladiano. Persino il marito germanico della regina Vittoria modellò la casa estiva della famiglia reale a Osborne sullo schema del palazzo italiano. Per quanto riguarda la mia scuola a Dulwich di Londra, riconobbi il suo campanile sud in terracotta nelle chiese quando visitai Verona!

Toccando l’aspetto politico, l’Italia è sempre stata grata alle Isole Britanniche per il rifugio e il sostegno che il Regno Unito dette ai suoi leader esiliati, non solo nel processo di unificazione del Paese, ma anche nelle giornate buie della Seconda Guerra Mondiale. Sebbene fosse una monarchia, il Regno Unito ha mostrato generosità anche nei confronti di coloro che, come Mazzini, favorivano una Repubblica Italiana.

Nella nostra stessa Bagni di Lucca la reciprocità tra le due nazioni è abbondantemente testimoniata nei luoghi come la chiesa anglicana, il cimitero degli inglesi (oppure protestante) e la durevole storia di quegli inglesi che scelsero (e continuano a scegliere) di risiedere nella verdeggiante e piovosa (all’inglese) Val di Lima.

Tornando alla nostra amata regina scomparsa, Elisabetta II visitò l’Italia per cinque importanti occasioni durante il suo regno di platino, comprese quattro visite di stato.

Il suo primo viaggio in Italia risale al 1951 come Principessa Elisabetta, quando pranzò con il Presidente Einaudi. La coppia reale volò dalla luna di miele in Malta a Roma, dove Elisabetta ebbe anche una conversazione privata con il Papa in Vaticano.

La successiva visita della regina nel 1961 fu la sua prima visita di Stato quando Gronchi era presidente. Il ministro della Difesa Andreotti la accompagnò a deporre una corona di fiori sulla tomba del Milite Ignoto. Visitò anche Firenze e Venezia (dove viaggiò su una gondola, ovviamente).

Nel 1981 ci fu un’altra visita di Stato in Italia sotto il presidente Pertini.

Il 2000 segnò la terza visita di Stato della Regina sotto la presidenza di Ciampi e dove incontrò anche Papa Giovanni Paolo II.

L’ultima visita di Stato di Sua Maestà al bel paese risale al 2014, quando fu accolta dal Presidente Napolitano e dal neo-nominato Papa Francesco. Tra i doni scambiati c’erano lapislazzuli dal papa e una bottiglia di whisky distillato di Balmoral dalla regina.

Ora, otto anni dopo, Elizabeth Alexandra Mary deve essere sulla buona strada per la più grande visita di stato di tutte: trovare la sua ultima dimora, da ferma credente, con il suo Creatore.

La Regina è morta. Viva il Re!

Italy’s reaction to the death of Queen Elizabeth II surprised and touched me deeply. The radio and television broadcasts are not only filled with the usual political speculations, chat shows and historic documentaries, they are also replete with truly affectionate wishes of condolences from citizens from all walks of life throughout the peninsula.

I have, regrettably, come across some negative comments from those born in the British Isles but hardly any from Italians. In this respect I, too, have been negative. Recently, just before her death, the Fondazione Montaigne presented a concert at Bagni di Lucca’s English church (now the civic library). At the end of the performance the English national anthem was sung by a soloist and…I did not stand up. In my defence I should add that no-one else did either. I was, however, ticked off for this lèse-majesté by two audience members who rightly said that it seemed a most un-English behaviour. I replied that they were quite right to note this and felt demeaned. Why did I not stand up? Was it perhaps because I felt embarrassed to do so among a predominantly Italian audience, citizens of a republic? If someone else had stood up then clearly I would have joined in. Nevertheless, I felt a bit like a Latter-day Saint Peter after the rooster had crowed three times. Am I ever going to live it down now as an Englishman among our town’s society I wonder?

I should, however, have not been surprised by Italy’s sympathetic reaction to Great Britain’s bereavement. Its citizens, deprived of their own monarchy through the post-war referendum which established ‘La Republica’ and with their attraction towards a European country priding itself on standing apart from ‘Il continente’, have always been fascinated by things British ranging from landscape gardens to double-decker buses from Shakespeare to fish and chips, from Sherlock Holmes to the Beatles.  Above all they are captivated by the Windsor family and, waiting in my Doctor’s surgery leafing through the glossies, I have become well-informed through their articles about the goings-on of our Royal Family for better or for worse.

Despite the awfulness of brexitism (some cynics might say because of it) the majority of Italians continue to respect Great Britain and ‘l’inglesità’ or ‘Englishness’. The cultural interchange between the two countries over the centuries has been prodigious. Mediaeval ‘opus anglicanorum’ in church textiles graces ecclesiastical museums throughout Italy. Pisa, possessing an ancient reliquary of Saint Thomas à Becket for its own cathedral, is also where Chaucer was sent as a government official from the English court of King Edward III and, returning home to Eltham palace with texts by Boccaccio, Petrarch and Dante which inspired his own writing, including the ‘Canterbury Tales’, he changing the course of English literature

Inspiration from Italy continued with the English aristocrats’ grand tours which influenced their Palladian-style country houses like West Wycombe and Stourhead and even Queen Victoria’s Germanic husband modelled the Royal family’s island home at Osborne on the Italian palazzo. As for my own school at Dulwich in London I recognized its terracotta South block campanile anew when I visited Verona!    

Touching the political aspect Italy has always been grateful to the British Isles for the shelter and support it has given to its exiled leaders, not only in the country’s unification process but also in the dark days of the Second World War.  Although a monarchy the United Kingdom has ever shown largesse towards those who, like Mazzini, favoured an Italian republic.

In our own Bagni di Lucca reciprocity between the two nations is strongly evidenced in such places as the Anglican church, the English cemetery and the long history of those British who chose (and continue to choose) to reside in the verdant and rainfully-English Val di Lima.

Returning to our dearly beloved, late departed monarch, Queen Elizabeth II visited Italy on five major occasions during her Platinum Reign including four State visits. Only state visits to France have been higher in Europe.

Her first journey to Italy was in 1951 as Princess Elizabeth when she had lunch with President Einaudi. The royal couple flew from honeymooning in Malta to Rome where Elizabeth also had a private conversation with the Pope at the Vatican.

The Queen’s next visit in 1961 was her first State visit to the country when Gronchi was president. Then defence minister Andreotti accompanied her to lay a wreath at Italy’s tomb of the Unknown Soldier. She also visited Florence and Venice (enjoyed on a gondola, of course).

In 1981 it was another state visit to Italy under president Pertini.

2000 signalled the Queen’s third state visit under Ciampi’s presidency and where she also met Pope John Paul II.

Her Majesty’s last state visit to ‘il bel paese’ was in 2014 when she was greeted by President Napolitano and the newly appointed Pope Francis. Among gifts exchanged were Lapis Lazuli from the Pope and a bottle of Balmoral-distilled whiskey from the Queen.

Now, eight years later Elizabeth Alexandra Mary must be well on her way to the greatest state visit of all: to reach her final resting place, as a firm believer, with her maker.

The Queen is dead. Long live the King!