Escape to Sri Lanka

Colombo, the largest city and commercial hub of Sri Lanka is mainly used by visitors as an entry point to this beautiful island which we are lucky to visit in these difficult times for the world and, particularly, for Italy.

We spent two nights at the Ramada hotel whose best feature is its location in the centre of the vibrant city. Close by us the spacious Galle Face Green was laid out in 1859 by the British who had made Ceylon part of their empire in 1815 (they kept it until 1948). It is like a gigantic sand pit with a promenade along the sea front and, once used as a racecourse, is now a popular urban park with vendors selling cooked crabs, prawns and kites. On the little pier we were hailed by an interviewer from Shaa FM, the locally based international online radio station, who asked us (Sandra, mainly) about the current coronavirus epidemic sweeping Europe, especially Italy, and now spreading ever further into the world’s four corners.

 

Although without major heritage sites Colombo has the most eclectic architectural mix. Lovers of colonial buildings will have a field day here from the Gaffoor gem market edifice to the red and white Jami Ul-Alfar mosque built in Indo-Saracenic style in 1908.

 

After many years of neglect these relics from a time when Sri Lanka was under foreign domination are being restored and refurbished as hotels or shopping malls. They make a welcome change from the increasing number of high rises which now dominate the Colombo skyline.

Of the many temples in a majority Buddhist country we managed a visit to Asokaramaya with its beautiful murals and stunning statuary dating back to the 1870’s and founded by Elliyas Kalutara, a wealthy merchant, in memory of the monk Aluthgana Sangharatne.

 

We also visited the former Victoria Park, now renamed Viharamahadevi after an equally powerful Sinhalese queen. The British queen’s statue, now side-lined in the back of the park, has been replaced by one of Buddha.

 

There are some very interesting contemporary buildings too in Colombo including the Nelum Pomona theatre, Sri Lanka’s main performing arts venue, built in the form of a lotus leaf in 2011 and the similarly lotus inspired tower only opened last year.
There are many other sites of interest in Colombo and lovers of architecture, especially Victorian, will find much to interest them.

However, Sri Lanka is famous for a lot more than imperial architecture and after a full day in Sri Lanka’s commercial and administrative centre, with a population of over ten million, it was time for us to move on.

Una Cattedrale Sconosciuta di Londra

La cattedrale di Southwark a Londra si trova sulla riva sud del Tamigi vicino a London Bridge. È la chiesa madre della diocesi anglicana di Southwark. È stata un luogo di culto cristiano per oltre mille anni, ma fu dichiarata una cattedrale solo dal 1905; l’attuale edificio è in stile gotico e risale dal 1220 al 1420.

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Il primo riferimento al sito fu nel 1086. Il “Minster” di Southwark sembra essere sotto il controllo del vescovo Odo di Bayeux (fratellastro di Guglielmo il Conquistatore). La sua storia antica è oscura; esisteva una chiesa a sud di London Bridge. Nel 1106, nel regno di Enrico I, quest’ultima divenne un Priorato Agostiniano ed è qui che Thomas Becket predicò qui prima di partire per Canterbury, dove fu assassinato nel 1170.

La cattedrale di Southwark è il più antico edificio gotico di Londra ed è anche il luogo, dove i pellegrini iniziarono il loro viaggio sulla via Francigena per la tomba del Santo Tommaso Becket di Canterbury, così ben descritto nei racconti di Chaucer, e per i più arditi di proseguire il pellegrinaggio fino a Roma e la Terra Santa, passando, s’intende, a Lucca per adorare il Volto Santo.

Il poeta e amico di Chaucer John Gower, autore di ‘Confessio Amantis’, è qui sepolto in una vivace tomba:

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Ci sono altre tombe: di cavalieri, di saggi, di nobili…e di William Shakespeare che ebbe le sue commedie eseguite nel vicino Globe Theatre.

Questa volta non siamo stati a tempo a rivedere il gatto della cattedrale, chiamato ‘Doorkins Magnificat’, così bravo a tenere sotto controllo i topi e amato perfino dalla Regina, e che l’ultima volta, in occasione di un concerto, mi diede un’occhiata dalle tenebre dell’abside.

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Il gatto ha ora avuto un libro dedicato a lui che festeggia le sue avventure nella cattedrale ed è andato in pensione a casa del cappellano.

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D’interesse sono anche la fornace per terrecotte, tombe strade e una statua romana recentemente riscoperte.

I concerti di Southwark Cathedral sono ben noti. Nel 2017 siamo stati al concerto di Natale, dove ha cantato il coro della mia vecchia scuola, Dulwich College, e nel 2018 abbiamo ascoltato la sublime Passione di San Giovanni di Johann Sebastian Bach. sotto le splendenti volti della cattedrale e il suono del suo organo:

Southwark, insomma, è pieno di storia e continua, con il suo mercato, a essere un luogo molto affascinante della metropoli.

Sotto le volte

cantano voci eterne:

gloria del sole.

A Place in the Country

There are a total of 1121 UNESCO World Heritage sites – places which are essential witnesses to the cultural and natural history of our planet and which are, therefore, deemed of the highest importance. Of these Italy has the most: fifty cultural and five natural sites. More particularly it’s the Lombardy region which has the highest number – over ten – somewhat unfortunate in view of the current pandemic sweeping the world and which this part of Italy holds the highest number of quarantined towns.

Cultural sites include such tourist favourites as the historic centres of Florence, Naples, Rome, Pienza, Urbino, Siena, Verona, Vicenza, Genoa, San Gimignano, Ivrea (a fine example of twentieth century town planning), the baroque towns of Sicily like Noto and Ragusa, Mantua, Sabbioneta, Syracuse, Matera, Alberobello and, of course, Venice.

No Lucca? Our local big town is still on the second, ‘tentative’, list of sites which also includes the historic centres of Parma, Volterra and Orvieto. Of particular interest for those living in our area of Tuscany is part of the Via Francigena, the old pilgrim path from Canterbury to Rome, Bagni di Lucca which makes up one of the great spa centres of Europe, together with the UK’s Bath and the Czech republic’s Carlovy Vary, and the marble basin of Carrara.

I’m not too sure how one gets promoted from a tentative to a permanent world heritage list but I’m sure that it won’t take too long for Lucca to get there.

In 2013 an addition to Italy’s list of world heritage sites were the Medici villas and gardens of Tuscany. These are rural dwellings originally founded by the Medici to serve three purposes: defence outposts to protect their territories, summer retreats, and agricultural centres supplying food and wine for the Medici court.

Twelve villas and two gardens make up the list of villas. Most of them are placed around Florence’s hills but there are four fine examples near Lucca including one that’s regularly opened to the public: Serravezza.

This week we found ourselves in Florence’s environs and were able to visit one of the Medici villas, perhaps together with that of Poggio a Caiano, one of the grandest: Villa la Petraia.

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Dating originally from the fourteenth century the villa was expanded by Cosimo I de Medici and its garden embellished by terraces constructed with stone excavated from the surrounding land (hence its name: ‘pietra’ means stone). These gardens were enhanced by beautiful lawns of anemonies when we visited it.

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Eventually La Petraia became the property of Victor Emmanuel II, the first king of a newly united Italy, who added an elegant iron glasshouse structure over the inner courtyard (elaborately frescoed by Volterrano) turning it into a spacious ballroom for the reception party of his son’s engagement to Blanche de Larderei.

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Around this courtyard are the state rooms which range from the grandeur of the dining room to the intimacy of Rosina’s (the king’s lovely morganatic wife Rosa Vercellana) boudoir.

I was particularly fascinated by the games room which also included an early pinball machine.

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The paintings decorating the walls of this luscious villa comprise the lunettes painted by Giusto Utens at the start of the seventeenth century and showing fourteen of the Medici villas including La Petraia. These valuable insights into the villas’ past also show the Villa of Pratolino which was demolished in the nineteenth century.

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The remaining service buildings were subsequently refurbished by the Demidoff family, famous in Bagni di Lucca for the hospital they built. I was amazed to find the lunettes at this villa for formerly they had been exhibited in the ‘Firenze com’era’ museum which is now closed.

La Petraia is open free of charge most days and visitable only in accompanied groups. More details are available on its web site at http://polomusealetoscana.beniculturali.it/index.php?it/185/firenze-villa-medicea-della-petraia

A Puffing Billy in Florence?

I was promised a surprise by my wife when I visited Florence’s Careggi hospital this week for a check-up. I thought the surprise might be the magnificent propylaeum-style entrance, with its fine array of tall slim columns and the expanse of the water basin, designed by the Ipostudio group of architects, inaugurated in 2010 and uniting the hospital group, commenced in 1912 to replace the six hundred year old Santa Maria Nuova Hospital.

Instead the surprise was this steam locomotive dating from the end of the nineteenth century, made by the Marshall firm in the UK, recently restored and now gracing the piazza of the portico.

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The locomotive made a striking contrast to the trams which now connect the hospital to Scandicci.

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20200226_161503Originally built to power farm machinery such as threshers the venerable machine was brought back into service in the energy-lean years at the end of World War Two where it generated electricity for the hospital.

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It was lovely to come across this piece of the past and see it given a place of honour at Careggi hospital. After all, the Marshall steam engine also played its part during difficult times in helping doctors and nurses to heal the sick.

Italy’s Futurist Architecture

In Peter and Linda Murray’s ‘Dictionary of Art and Artists’ (first published by Penguin books in the 1960s) futurism gets a rough ride, being described by them as one of the dullest and most mediocre of all artistic movements.

Opinions have changed a little bit since then. Yet futurism poses considerable problems even today, particularly with regard to its prevailing ideology of violence, speed, destruction of tradition, espousal of war as a method of social hygene and extreme right wing views such as fascism.

Futurism did champion the latest technology including aeroplanes, power stations and motor cars.  However, its repudiation of previous artistic movements as largely worthless remains quite unacceptable today particularly since concepts such as conservation and preservation have assumed critical importance.

Possibly the most original notion of the futurists was to publicise their movement through manifestos laying down their axioms. No other artistic association had ever done this before, not even the impressionists.

Futurists were keen for Italy to enter the Great War and regain homelands. Sadly, two of their most gifted exponents, Boccioni and Sant’Elia, lost their lives in the bloody conflict. I was especially keen to see Sant’Elia’s original drawing of his ‘ideal city’ at the recent, superbly organized, Palazzo Blu exhibition devoted to futurism at Pisa, since this prophetic architect has very few completed buildings to his credit, although his images inspired a new generation of Italian architects including Michelucci, chief designer of Florence’s fabulous Santa Maria Novella railway station, perhaps the finest example of futurist architecture.
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Antonio Sant’Elia was born in 1888 in Como.

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In 1903 he completed his technical studies and in 1906 graduated as master builder. Becoming friends with the sculptor Girolamo Fontana and Carlo Care Sant’Elia attended cultural environments such as the Caffè Cova where he met Umberto Boccioni. His first major commission was the Villa Elisi in San Maurizio near Como in 1911.

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In 1913, Sant’Elia opened an architectural studio in Milan and designed the tomb for Gerardo Caprotti in Monza’s Urban Cemetery.

In 1914 he presented his drawings for an ‘Ideal City’. Among these were designs for an airport, a train station, and a power plant. In the same year Sant’Elia contributed to a “Manifesto of Futurist Architecture”.

In 1915, sharing the ideas of the other futurist exponents, he joined the army together with Boccioni and Marinetti.

In 1916, after receiving a combat medal, Sant’Elia was commissioned to design the cemetery of the Arezzo Brigade, in Monfalcone. On October 10, while the cemetery was still under construction, he was killed in action.

The general theory of the ‘Ideal City’ is encapsulated in this sentence from the 1914 manifesto:

“We must invent and rebuild the futurist city similar to an immense tumultuous, agile, mobile, dynamic construction site in every part, and the futurist house similar to a gigantic machine”.

In France Le Corbusier conducted a parallel development with the concept of the ideal city in his ‘Cité Radieuse’ which postulated the demolition of the traditional urban layout of Paris and its replacement by vast areas of tower blocks and highways. We all know what this dystopic vision has led to in those cities where a degenerated version has created severe social problems. However, it’s odd that the drug-infested, knife-crimed UK tower blocks are now pointing to similarly-silhouetted exclusively-luxurious tower blocks; just witness the abhorrent developments along the south Thames waterfront at Battersea. Perhaps the fugacious ‘ideal city’ concept lives on still?

However, Sant’Elia deserves credit for having sensed the close dependence between architectural and urban problems on which the planning and reflection of all modern architectural movements has been set.

 

 

 

 

 

Dis-associations of Sensibility?

It’s a truism to say that every country has its own characteristics. That’s part of the joys of travelling. I love the diversities of our planet – I certainly don’t try to find a McDonald’s in Amsterdam if I’m hungry (like someone I know) or seek out a pint of Abbott in Madagascar if I’m thirsty. Occasionally I might have longings for baked beans on toast in Tuscany, only to find that ‘fagioli a l’uccelletto’ presents a much worthier alternative. At its worst our facing of different ways other countries have of doing things leads to that indefinable phenomenon of ‘culture shock’.

When my mother came from a war-ravaged Marshall-plan-aided northern Italy to a post-war United Kingdom drizzled in unprecedented depths of austerity and greyness she was clearly culturally surprized by the diversity and characteristics she encountered in the former Roman Empire’s province.

My mother’s visit was ostensibly a study one – to learn one of the world’s supremely illogical but most widely spoken languages: English but it soon ended in her pregnancy, her marriage and….me.

The things that struck Vera about the UK were both positive and negative. The most noticeable related to children’s upbringing. In Italy ‘mammismo’, or being tied to mum’s apron strings until well into one’s thirties (and often beyond), is still the trend (although more rapidly changing now since young people have resigned themselves to travel further from the family nest to find jobs – London remains a particularly sought-after destination and Italian is regularly heard spoken by passengers on many bus routes, the 176 and the 12 in particular. My mother greatly admired the independence English parents gave to their children. Sadly the situation has changed considerably from my own childhood when I could cycle freely around London in my early teens not only going to school but swanning to locations far from South London’s Forest Hill such as Waltham Abbey and Saint Albans – only to be ticked off if I arrived home late.

Although my mother came to enjoy the gentle landscapes of the North and South Downs she greatly missed the mountains of Italy. I remember one late afternoon with her in Lewisham high street when she suddenly became very emotional, confounding the formation of clouds for alpine peaks. (My mother had been a lover of the Alps, so easily within reach of her birth town, Milan, in particular the Bernina range which she had climbed from the rifugio Marinelli, an area I myself visited when barely a teenager.)

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(The Bernina Range a few years ago. I wonder if the summer snows are still there)

This longing for mountains, this yearning for their ecstatic profiles of empyrean heights is something I wished for and something which I re-encountered when lunching with some of my Italian ex-students from City University. On that occasion we both praised and trashed the UK: from the ‘Daily Mail’ reader to the absence of mountainous landscapes to the poor sartorial tastes of so many of the island’s denizens to inferior quality of buildings to the absence of reliably acceptable eateries.

There has always been a time of my life when I have had a need to get to the top of hills and mountains, whether they be in Italy, Switzerland, Wales or Ireland.

(The Quirang and Stac Polly)

Perhaps that’s why I’m living in the most mountainous area of Tuscany.

As a social worker for the first part of her working life in the UK (mainly in the field of mentally disturbed Italian emigrant workers) my mother naturally involved herself in the dynamics of everyday social life. I recall an instance when there was a fight in the yard of my primary school (Dalmain Road). Two boys, beating and kicking each other to the ground were surrounded by a circle of mums coming to collect their children. My mother was horrified by the fact that the parents appeared to be just gazing at the event without anyone stepping in to stop the fracas.  She reacted, angrily exclaiming ‘will no-one stop this?’ At this stage the other parents did react, the boys were separated and the fight stopped.

As someone brought up in the Roman Catholic religion my mother was not a particularly devoted practitioner but she absolutely detested what had happened to Catholics under the apostate reign of the loathsome Henry VIII. She carried sentiments akin to those wonderful lines in that Shakespeare sonnet which ruefully describes ‘bare ruined choirs where late the sweet birds sang’.

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(A family visit to Tintern Abbey)

The site of the dissolved monasteries of so many parts of Britain, in particular the abbeys of Yorkshire and Canterbury with its associations with Saint Augustine (my mum’s own middle name was ‘Agostina’) filled her with both wonder and sadness. She happily sought out religious fraternities re-established as a result of the nineteenth century Catholic emancipation act; I evoke visits to the Verona fathers (formerly at Tulse Hill) and other associations. In particular, Vera followed with the greatest interest the refounding of Aylesford friary which we saw from a derelict ruin with a handful of monks to the flourishing centre of religious devotion it has become.

Most of all was my mother’s long-term relationship with the former Italian Hospital in Queen square founded in 1884 by a prosperous Italian business man Commendatore Giovanni Battista Ortelli in and originally manned (or nunned?) by the The Sisters of St Vincent de Paul.

(Sadly the hospital closed in 1990 but happily the building is currently undergoing major remodelling and refurbishment to bring it back into clinical use and will reopen in spring 2020 as the Great Ormond Street Hospital Sight and Sound Centre, accommodating out-patient clinics for ophthalmology, audiology, ENT and related services).

I suppose these interests have continued with me. The English reformation remains an event of immense Taleban-like horror to me: its wanton destruction of magnificent gothic architecture, its burning of great polyphonic music, its obliteration of holy sites, its list of martyrs of both sides of the great divide all point to a particular malign manifestation of the disassociation of sensibility which the poet T. S. Eliot avers descended upon the UK during the succeeding century. It was then that the superb artistic flair of mediaeval Britain, the celebrated ‘opus anglicanorum’ was severed from its association with continental Europe and largely disrupted, vandalised and destroyed in the British Isles. Indeed, it’s paradoxically in places like Pisa museum and the Uffizi that some of the finest English pre-reformation art may still be admired for it was exported to all areas of Europe and therefore survived in a similar way that the great monuments of Nineveh have survived the wrath of iconoclasts by being exported to places like the British museum…

Who sensibly cannot help thinking that the present maniacal foreign policy being pursued by the United Kingdom’s government as a response to an outdated and unfair electoral system is another re-incarnation of the love-hate affair with those living on the other side of ‘La Manica’ (the ‘sleeve’ – the name Italians – and other continentals – give to what is generally known as ‘the English channel’) and particularly encapsulated in the personality of my mother and continued in my own beliefs.

 

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Carded in Cardiology

The upper reaches of the river Serchio valley are served by two hospitals, one at Barga and the other at Castelnuovo di Garfagnana. Both were founded over fifty years ago and each has specific departments which don’t always overlap.

Last Friday I had an appointment at Barga hospital for a checkup since I was feeling increasingly puffed out. I thought it was bronchitis. The doctor, however, thought otherwise and before I realised what was happening found myself strapped in a trolley, wheeled into an ambulance which pelted at breakneck speed through the mountain roads with sirens blaring away towards Castelnuovo di Garfagnana.
The view from Barga hospital over the Apuan alps is quite stunning with the majestic Pania della Croce massif lording it over the range.

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At Castelnuovo hospital I was admitted to the cardiology department where I was administered various tests and scans and given a bed in a two-place ward.

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This Monday I shall be ambulanced to the region’s big hospital, San Luca at Lucca, where I will undergo a coronarography.
The Italian National Health System has been voted the fourth best in the EU, beating even the UK’s NHS. It’s the second time this year it has rescued me (see my post on the Urology section of Lucca’s Barbantine clinic) and I feel I’m very lucky to have been treated in this country.

Around 2011 there was talk of combining Barga and Castelnuovo hospitals into one new complex to be built at Pieve Fosciana. I’m glad this project has been shelved and that, instead, money has been used to improve facilities at both sites. This year, for example, a new maternity unit has opened at Barga and a new A and E centre is planned for Castelnuovo.
Like Barga, Castelnuovo hospital has views which would be the envy of any Swiss sanatorium.

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Around the hospital, which dates from 1959, is a nice bar, a car park with canopies supporting solar panels and a set of abandoned buildings which once housed an admin block and a chapel of rest.

It would be good to bring these fine examples of post-futurist buildings back into some kind of use.

Anyway, let’s make the best of where we are and enjoy the surrounding freezing temperatures from the comfort of a warm hospital ward!

Nativity at Barga

The longest running presepe vivente (living crib) in our area and the largest is that of Barga, now in its thirty ninth year. The presepe is also the first of its type we saw when we arrived here over ten years ago and it was a lovely reminiscence to return to it just two days before Christmas.

The participants’ procession weaves its way through the mediaeval alleys of this proud little town in the Serchio valley and owes its immaculate organisation to local Enrico Cosmini.

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Around two hundred inhabitants took part in the presepe engaged in representing traditional crafts. They came from Barga and the surrounding villages of Pegnana, Sommocolonia, San Pietro in Campo, Tiglio, Castelvecchio, and Filecchio. Here are some of them weaving, grinding maize, teaching at the school, doing carpentry and beating sacks filled with chestnuts to remove the husks.

A great tradition of the presepi is the appearance of zampognari, or bag-pipe (zampogne) players – shepherds descending from the hills to play before the infant Christ. After all it was they who saw the great host of angels announcing the Virgin birth and it is a custom practised to this day even in the centre of the Roman Catholic church in Rome and something enshrined to glorious musical effect in such works as Handel’s pastoral symphony from his ‘Messiah’ and Corelli’s Christmas concerto.

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We stayed for the arrival of the Holy Family accompanied by their donkey.

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They finally reached Barga cathedral where a rocket was fired from the bell tower representing the comet, accompanied by the sound of bells and the arrival of the Three Kings.

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There was one more day before Christmas and what we did on that evening will have to wait for the next post!

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Mud, Mud Glorious Mud

It’s not so much the cold but the damp that has got us this autumn and winter season at Bagni di Lucca. The seemingly perennial rainy days have turned garden walls into mossy banks and our shoulders and knees in creaking joints.

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What more salubriousness then than a course of mud baths in our spa town of Bagni di Lucca?

It’s lucky when our doctor’s wife is herself a doctor and head of the medical team overseeing admittance to the thermal baths. We first got a prescription from our doctor for the mud therapy. Yesterday morning we headed for our appointment and were given the all-clear from his wife.

The baths have a long and distinguished history with such notables as Montaigne, Shelley, Heine and Puccini taking the waters here. Montaigne declared them the finest he’d come across and the most effective cure for his own complaints. Heine disported with a ballerina near the baths and departed, too, much improved in health (the little mountain cottage where they met is still there and some local vineyard tenders pointed out out to me.)

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Shelley bathed in the volcanic streams springing from the thermal hill and Puccini spent a summer here composing the second act of his opera, ‘The Girl of the Golden West.’

Having stripped in readiness for the mud to be applied to my own joints I was shocked to find the mud turned out to be incredibly hot (around 40 degrees centigrade). However, I was persuaded to remain and after around twenty minutes in a mud cocoon I was led first to a shower, then to a bath and finally to a couch where my relaxation, cleanliness and relief was complete.

Emerging from the cubicle I made my way through graciously painted rooms to the bar and exited into yet another gloomy and grey day at Bagni di Lucca.

Anyway, I have to say I did feel a lot better after this muddy session; the mud seemed to work a more effective relief than the English mud I used to pick up on the rugby playing fields of my school and, therefore, I’m looking forwards to the next six sessions of this therapy.

A Chopped-up Knight and Much Else

Last Sunday’s concert in Borgo a Mozzano’s “il bello e il buono” series took place in the town of Diecimo which, as its name implies, is ten Roman miles north of Lucca. As an added bonus we were treated before the event to a guided tour of the town’s remarkable Romanesque pieve (parish church) by Silvia Valentini, an estate agent and local historian.

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Dedicated to the Virgin Mary, the church was begun in the twelfth century by order of the Countess Matilde di Canossa (see my post on this remarkable mediaeval woman, who was also responsible for our area’s distinctive Devil’s bridge or Ponte della Maddalena, at https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2015/11/15/borgo-a-mozzanos-matilde/) .

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(Our recent ‘piena’ on the Serchio)

The church, which consists of a nave, two aisles and a large semi-circular apse, is built of local dark-hued limestone blocks.

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Above its entrance door is a beautiful carved lintel which our guide suggested represents the parable of the Vineyard. (See Matthew, Chapter 20, verses 1 to 6).

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I particularly liked the little carvings on the apse cornice and a distinctive ‘ocular’ window. Be aware, too, that the lower of the two entrances of the campanile lead into the town gaol.

 

Next to the nave stands the imposing bell tower, with its characteristic succession of single, bifurcate, trifurcate and quadrifurcate windowed stages.

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The pieve’s stately interior has sculptures dating from the first half of the thirteenth century.

 

There’s a bas-relief depicting the prophet Isaiah, two column-bearing lions and a capital with eagles.

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The sad thing is that these sculptures are all that remain of a pulpit which was once on the same scale as that which can still be admired in Barga cathedral. The eighteenth century was not so appreciative and the pulpit, (or ambo as it’s technically known as), was crudely dismantled and largely dispersed.

I absolutely adore these lions: one is seen attacking the evil monster hydra:

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The other is fending off an attack from a heretic who is trying to stab its throat with a dagger.

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Clearly the lions are symbols of the Church Triumphant.

 

Other sculptures include a thirteenth-century hexagonal baptismal font demonstrating that once Roman Catholic baptism meant complete immersion – still practised by some Christian denominations to this day (e.g. the Baptists and the Church of Latter Day Saints).

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There’s an outstanding Roman sarcophagus adorned with lion masks:

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There’s also this strange slab depicting a knight almost hidden behind a large shield and locally known as King Pepin. Silvia theorised with regard to two odd features of this sculpture

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One, it’s not that the knight is a dwarf but that the horse merely carries, as was the wont of the times, the helmet of the dead knight in a funeral procession. It’s rather like the British army’s tradition of mounting a dead warrior’s boots upside down in the stirrups.

Two, the lower part of the slab was quickly finished off by an apprentice, hence its clumsy appearance.  Perhaps the knight had lost favour or his descendants failed to finish paying for the monument?

After this enjoyable and instructive visit we made our way towards the birth-house of Diecimo’s local hero, Saint Giovanni Leonardi, passing his recently-erected statue near the churchyard on the way.

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San Leonardi was the youngest of seven children born to artisan parents in Diecimo. Aged seventeen, he began a ten-year study to become a certified pharmacist’s assistant in Lucca. Later, he studied for the priesthood and was ordained in 1572.

Among Leonardi’s achievements was to gather a group of volunteers to work in hospitals and prisons. He was also an important contributor to the devotional movement known as the Counter-Reformation and took much interest in the Council of Trent reforms as a result of which he founded a congregation of secular priests, the Lucca fathers, which still exists to this day under the name ‘Congregation of the Mother of God”.

Indeed, our host at San Giovanni Leonardi’s house, padre Francesco Petrillo, is a member of this order which has in recent years returned to minister at its founder’s birthplace.

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He displayed to us the sweet presepi or Christmas cribs in the pieve’s sacristy which he makes himself and sells to boost church funds.

 

Padre Petrillo also showed us the precious collection of saintly reliquaries containing the bones of various martyrs.

 

There’s much more to say about San Giovanni Leonardi: his resilient personality and his friendship with Saint Philip Neri (without whom London would not have had its Brompton oratory), for example.

Leonardi was made a saint in 1938 by Pope Pius XI; his liturgical feast is celebrated on October the 9th and his relics lie in the church in Santa Maria in Campitelli, Rome. Diecimo, however, has the honour of his birthplace and housing a museum dedicated to him:

Not surprisingly, Saint Giovanni Leonardi is the patron saint of chemists given his long career in this occupation. (I wonder how many Boots assistants know that…)

The fourth concert of the musical season promoted by the Borgo a Mozzano’s Salotti music school was an absolute treat. ..I don’t think I’ve been so enveloped by guitarists: the room was small and I was triphonically surrounded by the players. No problem, the music was brilliantly performed (and with acoustic guitars there’s no problem of anything being too loud).

The Lydian Guitar Trio is formed by Nicola Fenzi, Dario Atzori and Giacomo Brunini (the artistic director of the festival) and the programme ranged from the classical period to the present day with music by Filippo Gragnani, Astor Piazzolla, Paul Hindemith, and contemporary composers Antonio Gabriele Martinique and Luca Guidi. It was particularly enjoyable to have living composers in the packed room introducing their music and they could have had no better set of musicians to perform their adventurous offerings.

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The encore was a repeat of one of four beautiful Basque tunes; it was truly an utterly memorable way to spend a somewhat intemperate evening.

If you are a Fornolian try not to miss next Sunday’s concert, on the first of December, which will take place at 5 pm in Fornoli’s parish church. It’ll be presented by our journalist in resident and master of ceremonies Marco Nicoli and is sure to be another delectable way to spend a late autumn afternoon.