The Feast of the Immaculate Conception

Posted on December 8, 2020 by Francis

Today is a public holiday in Italy. What holiday is being celebrated? It is the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Whose Immaculate Conception? Certainly not Jesus’ Virgin birth, as some still mistakenly think. It is the Immaculate Conception of Mary, mother of Jesus. It means that, unlike the rest of us, Mary was born without the original sin imparted to all mankind through Eve’s unfortunate temptation by the snake in the Garden of Eden, to eat of the forbidden fruit.

Mary was born in the normal way. Her parents were Anne and Joachim. Yet, as programmed by God to bear the son of man, she was not shamed by that shadow of original sin with which we are all born with – that is, according to Catholic theology – until we are baptised. Anne, as will be remembered if one reads the apocryphal Gospel of Saint James, was beyond child-bearing age so, in a sense, Mary’s was a symbolic virgin birth.

The idea of Mary’s unique status in mankind was first observed in fifth century Syria – that same country which is still being martyred by a war fought by fanatics of another monotheistic religion which, too, also holds Mary in the highest respect. Indeed, Mary is the only woman mentioned by name in the Holy Qur’an, in Sura nineteen.

I quote:

The Angel said: I am only a messenger of thy Lord, that I may bestow on thee a faultless son. She said: How can I have a son when no mortal hath touched me, neither have I been unchaste? He said: So (it will be). Thy Lord saith: It is easy for Me. And (it will be) that We may make of him a revelation for mankind and a mercy from Us, and it is a thing ordained. And she conceived him, and she withdrew with him to a far place.

That is clearly another take on the Annunciation, which is celebrated here on March 25^th. Nine months, after the appropriate length of time, later Jesus is born.

December the 8^th was when Mary was conceived, not when she was born, which took place, again appropriately, nine months later and is celebrated on September 8^th.

The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception of Mary, Mother of God, was officially promulgated by Pope Pius IX in 1854 and is held in the greatest respect by all practising Roman Catholics. Indeed, among Anglo-Catholics – an offshoot of the Oxford movement in Victorian Anglicanism – it is, too, a day of reverence.

In many countries the day is a national holiday and in Italy it serves as the start of serious Christmas festivities. No Christmas shopping two days after August bank holiday here – it all begins now: the full bonanza of gift wrapping, Christmas lights, trees and the rest of that strange mixture of bonhomie, excess feasting, tinsel, carol singing, living cribs, family love, religious outpouring, commercialism and the warmest of fires which the season brings to us.

(Our crib during Advent -awaiting for the birth of the Redeemer)

The Christmas tree, although only imported into Italy at the beginning of the last century has become an ever more important symbol of Christmas. Its triangular shape symbolizes the Holy Trinity and its nature as a perennial plant stands for the Eternity of God himself.

Here is part of our tree:

Surely our Mother Earth needs the same respect and adoration in her time of need, which is, more than ever, now…

MADONNA

Ineffable, your interstellar gaze

and cosmic garments’ flow unspeeches me

as unknown master’s brush paints God’s decree

and angel choir resounds from rainbow blaze.

Illumined chance, in summer’s sunset haze

had stopped my way, world’s restless refugee,

and opened aimless heart and made it free

when you accepted my unkempt bouquets.

Your face, I’ve seen before, in books and dreams:

till now unnoticed in its loveliness;

recondite smile that kisses all mankind,

unfathomed eyes that heal, touch that redeems,

marine star, sole reply in storm’s distress,

in your compassioned breast all hope’s enshrined.

(My poem written in 2008)

‘Et tu Brute?’

Posted on October 18, 2020 by Francis

As I wake up to the following gloriously expansive view from my bedroom window with its clear blue Mediterranean sky and autumnally tinged forests it’s easy to momentarily forget that the world is living through some cataclysmic crises: climate change, species extinction, covid-19 for starters, and that so many countries, in addition, are having to face wars whether they be arms or trade ones.

As I write this large areas of our planet are being devastated by fires, by sea level rises, by military destruction and…by a new Kentish lorry park, digging into the idyllic landscape of the North Downs, in preparation for the impending brexit deadline of January first 2021. (To be suggestingly named, according to some wags, the ‘Nigel Farage Memorial Park’).

I just wonder how many New Year’s eve parties will be celebrated at the end of this year what with the strictures imposed by pandemic rules and the growing doubt among believers that what they voted for might have all been a con and that they were sold a pup.

I have sadly come to the view that there is a close relationship between those people who still deny climate change, those who are against any form of vaccination, those who affirm covid-19 is a hoax and those who believe that brexit is the best thing since sliced Hovis. Of course this is not to say that these belief systems completely tally one with the other but there is a far more intense overlap between them than between their opposites.

OK, we have earned the essential privilege, after centuries of feudal oppression and crass totalitarianism, of individual freedom as encapsulated in the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. We have evolved considerably from being the huddled masses exemplified in the hierarchical ideology of so many societies – from the caste system in the Indian sub-continent to the class system still prevalent in the British Isles – towards the individualism which has arisen out of it.

However, if we all continued to behave in a highly individual manner as before – refusing to wear face masks in prescribed areas or failing to differentiate our household waste – then many of us will be in the same position as those inhabitants of German towns, just after World War 2 had ended, who were escorted into the remnants of concentration camps to witness their own country’s version of man’s inhumanity to man on a scale never before seen. I doubt there could have been any holocaust deniers left after these visits to their local extermination camp.

Yes, regretfully there’s also a connection, in my mind, between pandemic deniers and holocaust deniers. Perhaps visits to the local intensive care unit (where I was a denizen earlier this year) might be organized to dispel this belief if health restrictions did not permit it.

In Bagni Di Lucca I have come across people who blatantly remain mask-less in the middle of the Saturday morning market. They don’t even seem to carry one on their arms. I just wonder if they ever step into a store for their shopping; shop-keepers would never let them in for they too are subject to hefty fines for breaking anti-virus regulations. Other people have asked me ‘do you know anyone who has died of Covid-19?’ Sadly I do now and tell them so. They still appear to remain unconvinced, however.

The conspiracy theorists spread far and wide into that dark area of persons known as members of Q-anon who apparently are now considerably influencing the forthcoming US elections.

How does one relate to those who believe in these conspiracy theories? Bertrand Russell said that tolerance is necessary in any human relationship. All well and good but then are we to tolerate FGM, Suttee or legalised lethal injections? The other thing Russell said was ‘confirm the veracity of the facts’. That is clearly more difficult to handle and that’s where conspiracy ideology finds an easy way to worm itself into the collective subconsciousness.

Whatever happens in all this mess one thing is clear. Unless British residents in Bagni Di Lucca confirm their residence permission documents, obtain their Italian medical cards, exchange their UK drivers license for an Italian one and ensure their now European-citizenship-less passports are up to date they are going to find that discovering any brexitian benefits will be as difficult as locating the proverbial needle in a haystack. I just hope they will at least wear their ‘mascherine’ (as sanitary masks are called in Italy.)

Or you could sleep your way through all this…

Praying for Protection Against the Plague

Posted on March 21, 2020 by Francis

This Sunday, 22 March, in the church of Saint Michael the Archangel at Castiglione di Garfagnana, Mass will be celebrated behind closed doors, without a congregation, according to the recent edicts of the Italian state, and broadcast on television. At the conclusion of the service there will be a plea for the intercession of the Madonna of the Rosary who in 1631 saved Castiglione from the plague. This occurrence is remembered annually at the so-called “Festa del Regalo” (Feast of the Gift) which takes place on the first Sunday of the year.

Yesterday, on our visit to Kandy’s world heritage site of the Temple of Buddha’s Tooth we heard the chanting of monks praying for the deliverance of the nation of Sri Lanka from Covid-19 and broadcast loudly on speakers throughout the sacred enclosure.

In both cases I am aware of a similar return of prayers to a supernatural force for deliverance from the plague. At school we were taught that people no longer needed to pray to Gods to save themselves from the plague: the progress of medical science and the resources of modern hospitals obviated the need for such observances now considered quasi-superstitious. Even the catastrophic ‘Spanish flu’ pandemic of 1918-9, which killed an estimated 500 million (a third of the world population at that time), was considered unrepeatable. Yet since that time we have had further pandemics:HIV, H1N1 (2009 flu) and now the rapidly spreading coronavirus. The contageous horrors of the plague are, apparently, ever with us.

I recollect a visit to the church of Saint Mary the Virgin in Ashwell, Hertfordshire. The majestic west tower has poignant mediaeval graffiti carved on its walls by victims of the Black Death in the fourteenth century. One of them, in translation from the Latin, reads:
“1350. Miserable, wild, distracted. The dregs of the mob alone survive to witness.”

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I hate to think what lack of medical facilities existed at that time. However, today at our local hospital of Northwick Park, Harrow, (appearing as the introduction to the Fawlty Towers episode where Sybil Fawlty is admitted for ingrown toenail surgery) a critical incident was declared when it ran out of intensive care beds because of a surge in corona virus cases.

Near to our village of Longoio in Italy at the junction that leads to Vetteglia are the ruins of the church of San Rocco (Saint Roch).

The saint was invoked against the plague and, judging by the number of churches dedicated to him, was particularly venerated. Born in a noble family the saint gave his wealth to the poor and became a mendicant pilgrim. During his travels the town of Acquapendente became badly affected by the Black Death; Saint Roch stopped there and healed its victims by making the sign of the cross over them. He cured the sick from several other plague-ridden towns without catching the disease himself. However, when the saint reached Piacenza in northern Italy he fell a victim and a fetid ulcer developed in his leg. So rank was its smell that people kept well away from him. Luckily a dog befriended Roch and brought him some food on a daily basis and even licked his ulcer clean. Hence St. Roch has also become the patron saint of dogs.

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I am not sure whether, as a practising agnostic, I would go as far as praying to San Rocco in the present somewhat distressing situation. However, everything is possible and I am quite sure that religious fervour is increasing in the wake of a disturbingly uncertain phenomenon. One thing is sure: like the aftermaths of the Black Death and Spanish Flu our lives will never be quite the same again and we may truly revalue the simple things in life like hugging a loved one or friend, having a cappuccino in a bar, shopping in a supermarket or taking a turn without any reason, apart from the sheer pleasure of it, in the country amid wondrous nature which is now awakening with the song of Spring at its solstice.

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Where Buddhism Began in Sri Lanka

Posted on March 18, 2020 by Francis

We spent our third night in Sri Lanka in what appeared at first sight to be an ancient temple but turned out instead to be a hotel, the inappropriately named Palm Garden Village. Entering the reception hall was awesome but we were soon wafted away to a colonial-style cottage with equally veteran looking furniture.

The following morning I took a look at the place and found a delightful lake at the end of beautifully landscaped grounds.

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There was also, somewhat incongruously, this chapel frescoed with Giottesque copies.

The hotel complex, clearly unfinished, was started in the 1990’s and still needs some investment. I felt it was almost like an oriental equivalent of that disappeared folly, Fonthill Abbey. It was certainly one of the more unusual hostelries I’ve stayed in.

The following morning was dedicated to climbing up another sacred mountain, this time that of Mihintale, the site of a meeting between the monk Mahinda, son of King Ashoka, and King Devanampiyatissa; a meeting marking the beginning of Buddhism in Sri Lanka.

I found this area exceptionally evocative. Large rocks were scattered around the luxuriant forest and caves marked the location of hermit monks. There was an atmosphere of peace and quiet: the place diffused a mystical religious feel.

At the base of steps leading to the crowning stupa were the remains of an ancient hospital and a monastery with rules for the novices still inscribed on stones on each side of the entrance.

We then started on our climb of 1840 steps to the stupa.

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From its platform magnificent views extended down to Anuradhapuram and its stupa which we had visited the previous day.

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What glories and what mysteries are unwrapped in Sri Lanka’s history so unknown to the majority of westerner!

DSCN0416~2 But now we headed towards the sea, passing smatterings of the island’s wildlife the way and

further Buddhist statues.

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La Multi-Fedeltà di Londra

Posted on November 11, 2019 by Francis

Vivere a Londra è come fare un viaggio attraverso il mondo: la capitale multiculturale ospita tante civilta’ diverse sul pianeta e alquanto tante lingue e religioni.

Per esempio, questa settimana abbiamo viaggiato dall’India alla Tailandia, ascoltato un discorso da un politico mussulmano, attraversato il secolarismo per finire nel cuore della chiesa anglicana, l’abbazia di Westminster, dove sono incoronati i re e le regine del Regno Unito, ‘difendori della fede.’

Dall’India Indù siamo stati partecipi al Diwali tenutosi a Trafalgar square. La festa celebra la vittoria del bene sopra il male, la luce sopra il buio, la porta aperta alla speranza e non ai nemici, la sconfitta dell’ignoranza dalla sapienza.

Il sindaco di Londra Sadiq Khan, di origine Pakistana –mussulmana ci ha fatto un bel discorso:

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Qui ci sono stati spettacoli di danza da tutte le regioni dell’India e dal cinema di Bollywood:

Le dee viventi con Sarasvati, la dea della cultura col suo strumento, la Vina:

La Ramayana, la grande epica che racconta la storia di Rama e narrata con dei pupazzi veramente espressivi:

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Contro il grigio del pomeriggio, i colori della festa sono stati sicuramente benvenuti.

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I fuochi d’artificio ad Alexandra Palace ci hanno regalato un po’ di rito pagano nel festeggiamento della speranza umana contro le insidie delle tenebre dell’inverno:

La nostra visita al tempio e monastero di Buddhapadipa a Wimbledon, indicata da una bella mostra sui documenti e sacre scritture del Buddismo al British Library, ci ha portati ad un’oasi di tranquillità nella grande, movimentata città di Londra. E’ l’unico tempio del buddhismo Tailandese fuori dalla Tailandia. I monaci praticano la tradizione Theravada (trad: ‘la via dei saggi’) da distinguersi da quella chiamata ‘Mahayana’ (trad: ‘grande veicolo’) e che è praticata in China e il Giappone.

L’apice è stato raggiunto quando siamo stati presenti a Evensong, i vespri della chiesa anglicana, nella sua maestosa abbazia di Westminster, la chiesa dove sono incoronati i re e le regine del Regno Unito. La qualità del canto, le volte alte e dell’edificio ci hanno dato un altro lato della tranquillità e la pace interiore che caratterizzano l’essenza spirituale delle grandi credenze mondiali.

Le diverse vie

ad una sola vetta

ci conducano.

Troublesome Priests

Posted on October 9, 2019 by Francis

Canonic (church) law in the Roman Catholic church states that it is the Bishop who appoints a parish priest and certainly not ‘the will of the people’. Hence the rise of often troublesome situations.

Bagni di Lucca suffered one recently in its parish when the newly appointed vicar was accused by his parishioners of favouring radical religious opinions (e.g. ecumenical services with other religions, advanced views on gender etc.). For the somewhat conservative Bagni church goers this was all too much and they complained to the Bishop of Lucca.

The situation was further complicated by the new appointee accusing the former parish priest of interfering in his parochial affairs despite the fact that the previous incumbent was now officiating at a church over thirty miles away. It’s true to say that the former parish priest was very popular and was particularly dexterous in organizing youth and music activities. His ex-parishioners were sorely disappointed at Don R’s departure but he made occasional return trips to meet them.

The difficult event made its way to the newspapers and the local TV station NoiTv; it was only the intervention at Bagni of the bishop of Lucca which has obtained a workable solution to the parishioners’ stand-off. After all, locals still love a church wedding and for a new-born not to be christened would be anathema.

A rather clearer and certainly more intolerable situation occurred when a parish priest from North of the Appennines was found in delicto flagrante with an underage girl in his car. He was relieved of his duties and escaped to a relative’s house in a village near to Bagni. Everyone thought that the priest should be immediately arrested and put on trial for abusing minors (indeed, parents withdrew their children from the local school for fear of this ecclesiastical predator) but this did not happen for months until, recently he was brought to justice and given a long prison sentence.

An incredible situation regarding unpopular and troublesome priests occurred back in 1967 in a village we passed on our recent peregrinations in the mountain regions of the Veneto. Called the Schism of Montaner it led the entire population to renounce their Roman Catholicism and espouse the Greek orthodox religion.

How did all this happen? In 1967 Don Giuseppe Fae’, a very popular priest who had led the partisans against the nazi-fascists during WW2 and who was considered a saint by many, died.

Everyone thought he would be succeeded by his helper and vice-vicar but the bishop (who would later be appointed one of the Church’s shortest lived pope, John Paul I) thought otherwise and appointed a less than popular candidate. The locals were outraged: they barricaded the new priest in his vicarage, there was talk of an armed insurrection and eventually the Bishop turned up, protected by a bevy of carabinieri. The bishop’s answer to the problem was short and sharp: he withdrew the consecrated hosts placed on the parish church’s altar and forbade all priests to celebrate Holy Mass or to administer the sacraments until the Montaner parishioners accepted the new vicar.

The parishioners’ answer was to renounce their Catholic faith. Thanks to a lady who was herself of Greek orthodox persuasion an orthodox priest was invited to the village and converted all the inhabitants to a religion which, ironically, had itself been the product of a schism, this time some hundreds of years previously.

Regrettably, the orthodox priest and his acolytes proved to be less than orthodox in their behaviour and there were instances of drug-dealings and mass sex orgies. Other variants of orthodoxy were tried out: Nubian, Assyrian and even Nestorian. Eventually, a less unorthodox orthodox priest was appointed and the Montaner parishioners returned to a less sinful path. An orthodox monastery was founded which still continues to the present day; indeed a foundation stone for a new cloister was inaugurated in 2018.

We did not have time to investigate the monastery in further detail but looked sadly upon the remains of the original orthodox church which was burnt down, due a short circuit, almost ten years ago.

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I was, however, informed that several inhabitants had returned to their Catholic faith and that the previous troubles were just a dim memory. I think part of the reason for this is that religion plays a rather less important part in Italians’ lives than it used to at the time of the scism fifty years ago.

It’s all a bit sad, anyway. There was a time when ‘vox populi ‘ was indeed ‘vox Dei’ but today, with increasing secularism aided by paedophilia scandals in the Church, collapse of recruitment for priests, nuns and monks and the decline of religious axioms had meant that it would be difficult to have entire communities change their other-wordly directions just because they were afflicted by the imposition of a troublesome priest within their parochial boundaries.

Gŵyl Fair y Canhwyllau

Posted on February 2, 2019 by Francis

Candelora in Italy, Imbolc among the Celts, Saint Brigid in Ireland, Candlemas in England, Gŵyl Fair y Canhwyllau (Festival of Mary of the candles) in Wales, are all connected with the promise of the arrival of spring and the celebration of longer days and more light. As Shelley, who stayed in Bagni Di Lucca just over two hundred years ago, famously wrote in his ‘Ode to the West Wind: ‘If winter comes can spring be far behind?’

We’ve certainly had the wind and the rain, and my journey this morning to Penny supermarket at Borgo a Mozzano was cut short when I was informed that the road leading to the Ponte della Maddalena was underwater since the river Serchio had flooded through its banks.

Here is a video taken by a brave journalist from our local paper last night:

https://video.gelocal.it/iltirreno/locale/maltempo-in-toscana-il-serchio-in-piena-al-ponte-del-diavolo/115425/117018

Christianity has adopted many pagan festivals and Candlemas refers liturgically to a passage in Saint Luke’s gospel when Jesus was presented at the temple after his mother Mary had received ritual purification according to Jewish custom, forty days after his nativity,

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The text relating to this incident is worth quoting in full:

And when the time came for their purification according to the law of Moses, they brought him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord as it is written in the law of the Lord, “Every male that opens the womb shall be called holy to the Lord” and to offer a sacrifice according to what is said in the law of the Lord, “a pair of turtledoves, or two young pigeons.”

Now there was a man in Jerusalem, whose name was Simeon, and this man was righteous and devout, looking for the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. And inspired by the Spirit he came into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus, to do for him according to the custom of the law, he took him up in his arms and blessed God and said,

“Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, according to thy word; for mine eyes have seen thy salvation which thou hast prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and for glory to thy people Israel.”

And his father and his mother marvelled at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother,

“Behold, this child is set for the fall and rising of many in Israel, and for a sign that is spoken against (and a sword will pierce through your own soul also), that thoughts out of many hearts may be revealed.”

And there was a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher; she was of a great age, having lived with her husband seven years from her virginity and as a widow till she was eighty-four. She did not depart from the temple, worshiping with fasting and prayer night and day. And coming up at that very hour she gave thanks to God, and spoke of him to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.

Have you lit your candle for today? For as the Italian rhyme goes:

Quando vien la Candelora
de l’inverno semo fora;
ma se piove o tira vento
de l’inverno semo dentro.

My Trans:

When Candlemas comes
we’re out of winter ;
but if it is raining or windy
we’re still in winter .

(O dear….)

Pian di Gioviano’s Wonderful Mechanical Crib

Posted on December 14, 2018 by Francis

Italian ‘presepi’, or nativity cribs, may be of three main types.

First, are the various displays of nativity scenes laid out as an exhibition or as an itinerary. In our ‘Valle dei presepi’ there are two especially beautiful examples.

There are the highly creative and inventive ones at Pieve Fosciana, in the upper Serchio valley, which I’ve described at:

https://longoio3.com/2018/01/09/pieve-fosciana-the-land-of-presepi-christmas-cribs/

There’s also the Montefegatesi crib itinerary which I visited last week and which I described at:

https://longoio3.com/2018/12/10/christnas-cribs-here-there-and-everywhere/

Second, are the ‘presepi viventi’ (living cribs) where people re-enact the nativity scene with traditional arts and crafts surrounding the birth of Jesus Christ, and the arrival of the Three Wise Men.

I’ve described this type of presepe’ in various posts, the latest of which is at:

https://longoio3.com/2018/12/03/a-living-christmas-in-the-appenines/

https://longoio3.com/2018/01/10/living-cribs-at-a-home/

We have taken part in one of the best at Equi Terme several times. To see us dressed up as Roman governors, Wise men etc. do read the posts at:

https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2015/09/25/of-cribs-and-choirs/

https://longoio.wordpress.com/2013/09/20/midsummer-nights-nighmare/

Third, are those nativity scenes which particularly intrigue me: large-scale mechanical cribs where the figurines move and there are waterfalls, mill wheels turning, saws cutting and olive picking.

I first saw this kind of nativity scene as a small child at the church of san Camillo in Milan. (San Camillo is, incidentally, a fine example of fin-de-siècle eclectic gothicky architecture. I’ve described it at https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2015/09/04/milans-san-camillo/ )

A very fine example of a mechanical Christmas crib is near us at the start of the road that leads to Gioviano at Pian di Gioviano in the comune of Borgo a Mozzano. It is among the most beautiful in the whole province of Lucca and has its origin twenty five years ago, the brain-wave of a couple engaged to be married. Sadly, Manuela Motroni lost her life in 1999 in a traffic accident and the creation of the crib is also a way of remembering her who died so sadly young.

Manuela’s brother Manuel with Angelo Cipriani and other volunteers have continued to re-create the crib every year. As you’ll see from my video below a lot of love and time has gone into making this delightful nativity scene. It’s also interesting to note that many of the movements are propelled by water power.

Trust you’ll enjoy my video of this enchanting nativity scene!

Death by the Spanish Flu

Posted on November 8, 2018 by Francis

For speakers of Italian there are two interesting events taking place at Bagni Di Lucca’s library in the ex-Anglican church.

The first is a conference on 22 November at 4 pm on the hundredth anniversary of Rose Cleveland’s death from the Spanish flu which, it is reputed killed more people than the Great War itself. Rose Cleveland caught the disease when she was a nurse looking after Italian refugees fleeing from the military defeat at Caporetto in 1917.

In Bagni di Lucca’s protestant cemetery are three tombs next to each other. They belong to Rose Elizabeth Cleveland, sister of the US president Stephen Grover Cleveland, Evangeline Whipple author of “A Famous corner of Tuscany” – a largely historical account of Bagni di Lucca and Nelly Erichsen, poet, writer painter and illustrator of Dent’s “Story of…” travel books on Italy.

All these ladies, bound together by bonds of an affection which durst not name itself openly at the time, would need whole separate posts. Briefly, however, Rose Cleveland, aged 44, started a lesbian relationship with a wealthy widow, Evangeline Simpson, with explicitly erotic correspondence. However things cooled off when Evangeline married an Episcopal bishop from Minnesota, Henry Benjamin Whipple. By 1910, after his death, the two women rekindled their relationship and eventually moved to Bagni di Lucca, Italy to live there together. They shared the house with the English illustrator and artist Nelly Erichsen. Rose died at home on November 22, 1918 at 7:32 in the evening during the 1918 flu pandemic. She was buried there in the English Cemetery, and Evangeline was also buried next to Rose in the same cemetery 12 years later.

Each of the tombs bears a small sculpted flower linking the three together.

You can read more about Rose’s life and lesbian relationship in my post at:

https://longoio2.wordpress.com/2014/10/08/a-rosy-relation

With reference to the Spanish flu I should add that my grandfather on my mother’s side was Italian, gained one of the highest military honours, the Medaglia d’Argento al valor militare, for heroic action on the Carso front, was made prisoner and languished in the Spielberg fortress prison in what is now the Czech republic, (the same one where writer and patriot Silvio Pellico endured ten years captivity), for over two years before being freed and returned to Italy where he caught “la spagnuola” and had to spend time in a sanatorium. Luckily he was saved; else I would not be here to write these lines.

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The other event is on 17 November at 5 pm, again in Bagni Di Lucca’s library and is a talk about religious and lay life in our Val di Lima between the seventeenth and the nineteenth centuries.

My History of Abuse, by Augusta

Posted on October 26, 2018 by Francis

Hi. I am so glad you have climbed all those steps and stopped at all those shrines to come and see me in my lovely chapel which dates back at least a thousand years.

My name is Augusta. Please cancel from your brain any memory of the formidable Aunt Augusta in Oscar Wilde’s ‘The Importance of being Earnest’ for I am a quite different kettle of fish.

I am the daughter of Matrucco, one of Alaric’s captains when the Visigoth king invaded the Italian peninsula. Matrucco established himself in a fort on Mount Marcantone in Treviso province and became known for his despotism and cruelty, especially towards Christians. My life, as you’ll find out, was to especially suffer because of this.

My mother’s pregnancy proved very difficult and so she was taken to the more comfortable surroundings of a loyalist’s castle near the town of Fregona. I was born there in 410 but, sadly, mum died in childbirth. My father was evidently filled with grief for he truly loved my mother and gave me the name of Augusta as a sign of good luck, for the name was given to the daughters of Roman emperors and means ‘magnificent’.

Although my father didn’t believe in Jesus Christ I was baptized by a hermit who lived not far from the castle of Serravalle. From an early age I practised the teachings of the Gospel and helped and consoled as far as I could all those Christians who were being persecuted by my dad. Some of these Christians escaped death by miracles attributed to me!

My father tried to tell me off but I defended my faith. He then decided to imprison me in a small room but I refused to change my mind and my faith. Then, horribly, he hired a local dentist who came with his instruments and had him pull out all my teeth to spoil my beauty. I was locked up again.

My teenage life was largely spent being imprisoned and then tortured. Then the ogre of my father, for the redemption of whose soul I prayed daily passionately, decided to send me to the stake to be burnt alive. But the blood of Jesus, our Saviour, kept me from being touched by the flames and I miraculously emerged unharmed.

Unrepentant, Matrucco then had me tied to a wheel and thrown down from a nearby hill. Because he was such a powerful despot there was no-one to step forwards and plead for me. But God, in his infinite love, preserved my life yet again. At this stage my dad went wild with anger and ordered his chief executioner to behead me. It was, thus, that I finally found myself among the saints and angels in the kingdom of the Lord.

Forgiveness is a great virtue and I forgave my father for the horrible life he’d given me on earth and for his abuse against, not only my innate freedom of thought, but my sex too,

From my forgiveness I saw Matrucco slowly realise what he’d done and he finally repented. He buried my body with dignity in the place you can see now. Matrucco then self-flagellated himself with remorse, accusing himself of being the most evil being on the planet. He subsequently left the area where I’d been born to travel back north to find a little peace in the Germanic lands where he had been brought up in. If God is great then he will have surely given Matrucco at least a little peace. I hope that all those men who abuse and kill women today may realise, like my father, what they have done before they die.

Incidentally every saint is a patron of some cause. I am the patron saint of all those who suffer from diseases of the head. These could range from a simple headache to that spreading syndrome of your times, psychological ailments and maladies of old age. In fact, if you go behind the altar where now I lie you’ll find a stone with a hole in its centre. Place your head in that hole and all ills will disappear from you and you will feel as if you’ve never suffered from any mental anguish.