Francesco Benigno, “Baroque Festivals in Sicily: Between Heritage and Invention”

The study of urban rituals in the early modern age, initiated in the fifties and sixties of the 20th century (see for instance volumes edited by J. Jacquot, Les fêtes de la Renaissance, 3 vols, Paris, CNRS, 1956-1975), enjoyed a period of particular interest from the eighties onwards. A number of factors led to such resurgence of attention to this particular field, and in particular the renewed appeal of the universe of representations; the revaluation of Norbert Elias’ thinking; and the revival of traditions tied in with Percy Schramm and Ernst Kantorowicz’s Staatsymbolik – broadened by the work of the most important American pupil of the latter, Ralph E. Giesey. In short, the crisis of the traditional structuralist and functionalist paradigms, in sociology and anthropology associated with the names of founding fathers such as Émile Durkheim and Alfred R. Radcliffe-Brown, contributed to the formation of a cultural climate wherein ritual, once considered an accessory element of urban dimension better analysed in terms of its socio-economic and political factors has rather become an essential and privileged point of observation of civic dynamics (As is clearly the case for example in the synthesis on European Cities produced by the late M. Berengo, L’Europa delle città: il volto della società urbana europea tra medioevo ed età moderna, Torino, Einaudi, 1999).

Over the past two decades, through rituals sacred and secular, one has not only studied the “staging” of power (real, princely or republican) blended in with the exploitation of the sacred/saintly, but also the hierarchical layout of such “bodies” as formed the structure of the society of ancient regimes, and consequently changes introduced to the urban space; the over-dramatisation of cults; the construction of ceremonial protocols, et cetera. Ritual has become symbolic space serving the purpose of analysing the perception of social order and its structure, primarily related to the transformation of courtly universe and he “disciplining” processes.

Scholars have gone to great pains to establish to what extent rituals can be viewed as proof of assertion and persistence of popular culture perceived as an entirely separate entity (see especially P. Burke, Popular Culture in Early Modern Europe, London, Smith, 1978; R. Muchembled, Culture populaire et culture des élites dans la France moderne (XVe-XVIIIe siècles), Paris, Flammarion, 1977), in some cases remaining in opposition to official cultures of the Church and the nascent modern State. Following Michail Bachtin’s influence, the official regulating and edifying rituality focusing on ideological issues and intent on indoctrinating the lower classes was often juxtaposed against an intimately subversive, carnal ritual incapable of suffering inhibitory restraints, and was intent on exploiting every festive opportunity to overthrow dominant structures and, even if just for a day, turn the world upside down. In consequence of such a double aspect of rituality, the Fight Between Carnival and Lent transpired – named after the renowned 1559 painting by Pieter Brueghel the Elder. Such festive ritual popular culture seemed to disseminate an autonomous tradition of its own, while resisting the attempts at repression put in motion by the state and church, thus establishing a connection between festival and revolt and, long-term, leading to a complete normalisation of ritual and vanquishing of popular culture (Y.M. Bercé, Fête et révolte. Des mentalités populaires du XVI au XVII siècle. Essai, Paris, Hachette, 1976).

This paper is an attempt at illustrating a very different perspective set upon from different premises (I have developed this point in the essay Il popolo che abbiamo perduto. Note sul concetto di cultura popolare tra storia e antropologia, “Giornale di storia costituzionale”, 2009, no. 18, II semestre, pp. 151-178) and diverse objectives. We will proceed by examining very briefly a group (of four in all) of important Sicilian festivals, still held at some of the greatest towns of the Island: Messina, Palermo, Trapani and Catania. These festivals, all shown to audiences in full baroque fashion, are:

– Il Festino di Santa Rosalia held in Palermo on July 14th. This is a procession of the relics of the protector and patron saint of Palermo, organised since the first half of the 17th century,

– L’Assunta in Messina, a festival held annually on August 15th. That day, a pair of giants walks the streets of Messina along side an elaborate machine depicting the Virgin Mary’s ascension to paradise. Albeit the feast is late mediaeval in origin, it has been rearranged in the late 16th century, which is when it assumed the form known to our contemporaries.

– I Misteri di Trapani organised on Good Friday, created in the 17^th century – a parade of wooden carts illustrating assorted scenes of Christ’s passion.

-The feast of Sant’Agata in Catania, mediaeval in origin and refashioned in the 17th century.

Firstly, all four festivals are creations of the baroque. Secondly, they are all urban productions. It is well known that urban life on the eve of humanism has had a long-standing and important tradition in Italy. Yet only at that point, in the 16th century (and even more so in the 17th) that Italian cities – whether “free” or “dependent” – came up with a narrative intended to provide a mythical account of their origins and the accompanying structures of what we might dub the distinguishing themes of “urban physiognomy”, or edification of spiritual or moral heritage, as important as the material heritage of privileges (freedoms constituting a crucial part of the “liberty before liberalism”: Q. Skinner, Liberty Before Liberalism, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1998). We shall not be considering urban rituals, or rituals taking place in cities in as much as civic rituals: rituals shaping and forming urban identity.

Of the four aforementioned festivals, three are dedicated to patron saints of cities, while the fourth (The Misteri), as remains to be seen, ties in closely with the Saint Protector of Trapani, the Madonna di Trapani, although is not dedicated to Her directly.

A study of the aforementioned rituals requires their perception as narratives in motion, or narration-based performances moving forward and producing meaning (and emotions, naturally): such narratives were frequently produced in image, and expressed via symbols, discourses, gestures, as well as individual and group action. We shall therefore attempt to interpret them in connection with the production of literary historical narratives dedicated to urban history. Similarly to histories of cities, civic rituals are discussions, after all (or animated discussions, so to speak), focusing on the origin, glory, and importance of what we now refer to as urban identity; rituals frequently solemnise top-ranking events in the life of a community. Let us consider Palermo, for instance: the Festino of Santa Rosalia ties in directly to a myth of collective danger and rebirth: the “miraculous” discovery of the relics of Saint Rosalia, a 12th century virgin hermit, “divinely” revealed to a humble hunter: the revelation consists in the fact that those relics were found exactly where the legend claims they should have been, in a cave on the summit of Mount Pellegrino where the saint was supposed to have lived. The relics were brought to procession that year (1624); it was also the time of a horrible plague haunting Palermo, and the end of the disease was attributed to the intercession of the saint, formerly referred to as santuzza, or “little saint”. After the plague was over, she was gloriously announced the new patron saint of the town. Interestingly, the hagiography of Santa Rosalia was expanded to include a legend reflecting the community’s civic ambitions: the saint was provided with a noble pedigree of a descendant of the Normand count Ruggero, founder of the Kingdom of Sicily, one who restored Christianity to the island (V. Petrarca, Di Santa Rosalia vergine palermitana, Palermo, Sellerio, 1988; S. Cabibbo, Santa Rosalia tra cielo e terra: storia, rituali, linguaggi di un culto barocco, Palermo, Sellerio, 2004).

Regardless of 1591 records confirming the presence of the Genoese Casazza, exceptional motives induced Jesuits to refashion their cultural hegemonic strategy, abandoning any design of more orthodox Christian acculturation, and to place all stakes on Santa Rosalia, whose relics were, and still are, carried across town in a plush baroque ornamental decorated cart.

In other cases, as in case of the Messina festival, the focal event was the freeing of the town from under Arab domination. Throughout Mediterranean Europe (and beyond), narratives concerning urban identity often hark back to the struggle between the Moors and Christians (Byzantines, then Normans) during the 11th century; the confrontation and conflict between faiths; and the clash of military and commercial powers. Thus, municipal patriotism tends to associate mythical celebration of urban history with the most venerated relics. The patron saint becomes a personification of urban identity, and, concurrently, a link with celestial protection against the infidel.

Considering the Assunta (G. Giorgianni, La festa della Madonna Assunta in Messina, “Archivio Storico Messinese”, vol. 68, 1995) notably, the Virgin Mary is the saint protector of Messina. According to legend, during her lifetime the Virgin received ambassadors of the town who travelled to Palestine in her homage. As a sign of condescension (or a confession of duty and obligation), the Virgin Mary presented Messina ambassadors with a letter concluding with the famous words Vos et ipsam civitatem benedicimus, a sentence etched in block capitals in the stones of the port bulwark. A very sensible site, as the Messina pier is the physical arm of the town’s commercial wealth, and at the same time the symbol of its mythical birth: the pier, resembling a sickle thrown to sea, links the city with its ancient name of a former Greek colony (Zancle) to the sickle of Kronos, the last of the Titans, who bore the fatal instrument used to emasculate Father Uranus (F. Gallina, La caduta degli Dei: il mito delle origini di Messina nelle storie locali tra il ‘500 e il ‘600, in Il libro e la piazza: le storie locali di Napoli e di Sicilia in età moderna, ed. by A. Lerra, Manduria, Licaita, 2004, pp. 337-360, and, in broader perspective, my article: Considerazioni sulla storiografia municipale in età spagnola, ibid.,pp. 51-68).

The legend and cult of the Madonna della Lettera was originally a separate holiday celebrated on June 3rd, but was later blended with the festival of the Assunta on August 15th, coinciding with a major trade fair. The festival, developed since the 16th century (the first phase of its development goes back to the late 14th and 15th centuries) is a festival of urban identity, scarcely coherent, a sort of patchwork of different themes: spectators are on the one hand exposed to the procession of the Vara, a splendid machine created to express the assumption of the Virgin Mary to paradise and, on the other, to a tale of giants: two enormous puppets (with their 18th century names of Mata and Grifone) ride enormous wooden horses, parading the streets as a reminiscence of the ancient times when the city was founded, and of the mythical association to the era of giants. Popular legend tells of giant Mata, queen of Camaro, a borough of Messina in an area now called Matagrifone; Mata married Grifone, known as “the great Moor!”, a ferocious African anthropophagus, who assumed human form and made the people of Camaro happy with his marriage to Mata. Interestingly, such popular folk tales (each generation is exposed to their different versions: the incredible Hulks or unfortunate Shreks) are not the sole preserved records of such characters: they are superimposed with a more literate tradition thanks to 17th-century erudite scholars, archaeologists, antiquarians and voyagers, who referred to the two giants (U gialanti, or Gialantissa in the Messina dialect) as Cam and Rea; or Zancle and Rea; or, in other versions, Saturn (identified with the Greek Chronos) and Cibele. The two levels (that of the mythical foundation of the town and that of “real” history) intertwine. Thus, a folk tale became history (real and legendary at the same time): the Norman king Ruggero entered town and freed it from the Saracens.

The theme of the camel is an interesting component, as its presence seems to bring the two narratives together. On the one hand, the presence of the camel forms part of rediscovery of oriental themes potentially connected with the wise men of the Bible, who rode camels following a comet bringing good tidings to the world. On the other hand, however, the camel is also the symbol of plundering, gluttony and greed. Historically, a legend told in the early 17th century recalls Ruggero and his soldiers, loading their camels with the loot seized from the defeated (Giorgianni, pp. 44-48).

As we see it, all these components strive to overcome the romantic vision of juxtaposition of popular and elite culture, interpreting rituals as collective practices denying any clear division between the “high” and “low”, primarily due to the sort of “patchwork” of different elements of different origins, with the aid of which rituals are described (see in general the work by A. Huyssen, Twilight Memories. Marking Time in a Culture of Amnesia, London, Routledge, 1995). Perhaps our interest in the Assunta ritual stems from the same reasons which had disturbed Giuseppe Pitré, the famous Sicilian ethnologist who, after having recognised the Messina festival leading in Sicilian folklore, judged it as “undignified jumble and nearing of different performances speaking of a colossus from an antiquity obscure and remote” (G. Pitrè, Delle feste patronali in Sicilia, Palermo, Clausen, 1900; I quote from the reedition by A. Amitrano Savarese, Palermo, Il vespro, 1978, pp. 163-180).

Following the path paved by Hermann Bausinger in his perspective of popular culture (H. Bausinger, Volkskultur in der technischen Welt, Stuttgart, Kolhammer, 1961), we could attempt to perceive rituals in a dialectic rather than reified manner, underlining the transformation, the mutation, the adaptation. For instance, in case of the Assunta feast, its original protagonist was a horseback-riding statue, and this before the invention of the Vara, a sort of extraordinary baroque machine, with a number of separate parts moving in different directions to disorientate and astonish the spectators, and to create the imminently baroque effect of meraviglia, the marvellous.

To yet again recall Bausinger, one should not emphasise the contrast between the popular and what he called the Technische Welt, the world of technology; on the other hand, we could well reflect more deeply on our need to consider the popular in natural opposition to the artificial world of industrial artefacts. Baroque sensibility, even popular baroque sensibility, did not oppose technical artefacts; on the contrary, it used them consciously as an instrument to create la meraviglia, the marvellous. Thus, the carnevale, allegedly the most popular of baroque parades, ties in closely with the construction of complex machines, animated carts and so on: macchine embodying technological innovation of the time.

It goes without saying that such approach shifted the focus from extended permanence, the viscosity and time-proof collective issues to the actual invention of tradition and instances of change, to that “porosity” that permits novelty to be absorbed. And the novelty in this case is the renaissance and baroque culture of the emblem and the symbol, the fascination with classical mythology, the attraction for the exotic Orient (L. Jardine, Wordly Goods. A New History of the Renaissance, London, Norton, 1998). This is not a Sicilian perversion: in 1581 during the Assumption festival in Siena, members of the contrada of the Giraffe were dressed in “Turkish” attire while those of the Dragon in “Egyptian” style: by the same token, the early 17th century carnival of Barcelona sees the appearance of the mythical figure of the Queen of Cathay. In one of 1633, the themes of the festival were based on Cervantes’ Don Quixote. Once again, the now renowned Ommengang in Antwerp as well as the equally well known (and studied) London ceremony of the Lord Mayor’s taking of office are steeped in 16th and 17th centuries with classical mythological figures.

It is a process that has been interpreted in various ways, sometimes as an indication of early secularisation (as in the case of the London ceremony) but which instead could be viewed not as a (partial) substitution of elements of the sacred tradition with lay elements but as a transformation of sacred and lay elements with others (sacred and profane) components, that have acquired a new lease on life owing to different sensibility that developed in renaissance and baroque ages. The proliferation of monstrous figures such as dragons and giants carried in procession, mythological animals (unicorns, hippogriffs), heraldic ones (possibly linked to the coats of arms of corporations and guilds), or even royal, and yet featuring very important symbolic attributes (such as elephants and camels) and even figures of classical divinities and heroes goes hand in hand with the reintroduction of Biblical figures (of the sixteen processional giants known in the 15th century Netherlands, twelve were Goliaths), of scenes linked to the life of Christ and the Saints, of moralising images sacred and secular, blended in new ways.

Such renewal was in the 16th century frequently introduced by new orders of the counter-reformation with blatant pedagogic intent. Let us consider the most important Sicilian festival of Casazze held during the Easter Week, the Misteri of Trapani (see in general C. Bernardi, La drammaturgia della settimana santa, Milano, Vita e pensiero, 1991).

This highly suggestive procession, today considered the true expression of popular feeling, was introduced by the Jesuits in the 17th century, not without difficulty. More ancient and largely most popular was the procession of the Cirii, the candles to the Madonna of Trapani, a marble statue that received homage of votive candles from the Maestranze, the guilds, the Monday after Easter. One very important feature of the Cilii procession, which to a certain extent explains its popularity, was that each of the Cilii (or big candles) was borne and decorated by a different guild; guilds were competing among themselves to make the most beautiful candle of all. The hegemony of the Misteri as the civic procession instead of the Cirii was permitted thanks to the guilds’ concession of all wooden carts illustrating the scenes of the passion and death of Christ. The wooden sculpture which evolved from an original Genoese tradition (the Casazze) of theatrical performances (assorted examples of which may be viewed in Sicily until this day), and directly linked to “models” stemming from great artistic tradition, became the expression of the corporate structure of the urban organism body. Each cart represented a different section of the community, while the unprivileged people (popolino) identified themselves with the last cat in line, that of the Maria Addolorata, the saddened Mary, defender of the poor.

The most important Sicilian example of the ancient ritual of big candles offered to the Madonna or saint protector is the Ceremony of Sant’Agata in Catania, held on February 4th and 5th. Also in this case, every guild prepares a wooden big baroque style candle, competing against others not only to produce the most beautiful and most magnificently decorated artefact, but also to surpass other contenders in endurance: the enormous devotional objects had to be carried on the shoulders for a longer time, without putting them down. Yet again, a strong civic sign is superimposed on the procession, an urban mark reminiscent of the original carriage of relics from Constantinople to Catania in 1126, their “return” home. The procession has morphed over time, the cannelore (votive candles) changing in shape, form, and number. During the last centuries, they were very different from those you can see today; in the 17th century, for instance, they changed every year, as did the allegorical carriages. Where once people carrying the Vara (the cart with Saint Agata’s relics) were naked and called so, i nudi, now they arrive clad in votive costume: il sacco, “the sack”, a white tunic. Popular legend explains the arrival of the indumenta with an association with nightdresses people wore when spilling into the streets at night-time upon announcement of the arrival of the relics. The sack was an 18th century creation, as were the black velvet cap and white gloves now in use. The cry Viva Sant’Agata, echoing in the streets today is probably also quite recent: the Spanish Olé, Olé would be more likely in the 16th and 17th centuries. The word citatini or cittadini, now shouted as incitement, in all likelihood became popular in the 18^th century, albeit the gate of the Sant’Agata chapel bears the Per me Civitas catanensium sublimatur a Christo inscription. Form notwithstanding, a viewer will sense the permanence of the important feeling of belonging to a civic community, even today expressed in the passionate and endlessly repeated cry: Citatini! Fideli tutti! Viva Sant’Agata!