Lake Bolsena
This is a short history of a beautiful
Italian town. Tales of a hallucinating priest, bibulous popes, missing WW2
bombers, brave soldiers and an idiot traveller (you can guess who) are just
part of the story. Once in a while in a landscape dramas of the past capture me.
The town of Bolsena and its lake - a tourist destination for many popes - is such a
landscape. For romantics, historians and
conspiracy theorists there is plenty to get our teeth into here. Then there’s
the food, the wine and fictional murders all over the land. What do I have in
common with Pope Pius II? If you are remotely interested read on - in what
follows you may find out. From my first visit to the lake in 1993 and on
numerous travels since, every time I stand and gaze out over the lake I feel a
sense that something is going to happen. Plenty did in the past.
Bolsena is most famous for a miracle
alleged to have taken place in 1263. A Bohemian priest “who had doubts about
the doctrine of transubstantiation” was persuaded to its veracity when, he
claimed, he witnessed blood drip from the Host onto the altar during mass in what
is now Bolsena’s most significant church, Santa Cristina. The cloth from that altar
is reputed to be on show today in nearby Orvieto. After the miracle Pope Urban IV, living in Orvieto at the time, marked
the event by establishing the feast of the Corpus Domini to be celebrated
throughout the Christian world. Every year in Bolsena, on the day of Corpus
Domini, a solemn procession follows a stunning carpet of flowers (infiorata) forming a kilometre-long design
decorated with local inhabitants’ seasonal blooms. It is worth crossing the
world to see.
Nearer in time the lake (the largest
volcanic lake in Europe) featured in more realistic events. In the autumn of
1943 the English Eighth Army and U.S. Fifth Army crossed to the Italian
mainland from Sicily and then progressed northwards via Bolsena. In June 1944 there
was a tank battle east of Bolsena. Here over six hundred servicemen, including
many South Africans, lost their lives in the patch of land between the lake and
the nearby town of Orvieto. Today on the eastern shore of the lake, on the spot
where General Alexander set up an advanced field headquarters, is a most
beautiful Commonwealth War Graves Commission graveyard, a sanctuary in which we spend time on most visits to Bolsena.
On 15th January 1944 an
American B-17 ‘Flying Fortress’ bomber crashed into the lake. Fortunately the
crew of ten baled out successfully. Seventy years later Italian divers found
the ball turret of the plane and it remains in a local museum on the lakeside.
There is also a mystery of another WW2 ‘Liberator’ bomber which ditched returning
from a raid over Genoa in 1944. The plane has never been located. Anne Storm, a
Wiltshire woman, still believes this aircraft her father, Bob Millar, was
flying went down in Lake Bolsena that year. In 2006 she travelled to Bolsena to
watch a potential salvage. Sadly for her there was no sign of the bomber. The lake is up to one hundred and fifty
metres deep in places, thick weed and mud has resulted in the lake bottom
having still not been searched fully.
In 2011 I contributed my own little drama
to the place. I am now a legend amongst the locals. Once again we were staying
in the fabulous house of our dear English friends that is up the hillside from
the town. Early one evening I locked us out. With none of life’s essentials
outside the house - wallet, car keys, mobile phone, address book nor warm
clothes – we trudged in t-shirts and shorts to the trattoria in town armed only
with a twenty Euro note. Following a pizza and free grappa – it was infiorata time, the locals are
wonderfully generous – we returned to the house. The neighbouring household, four
generations within and hardly a jot of English amongst them, had never had such
an entertaining night. Wooden ladders were brought, to break into an upstairs
window; the ladders fell apart. Phone calls were made but no entry was
achieved. Heated debate followed with everyone expressing an animated opinion
as to how entry could be made for the idiot Inglese and his longsuffering wife.
None worked. Idiot and wife spent the night sleeping under the stars with only
a sheet of cardboard (shared between two) for warmth. Next day a metal ladder
from another neighbour was purloined and it was up to the task required. Using our
trusty cardboard sheet and a brick I smashed the bathroom window and we were
in. What did I do later that day? Yes, I locked us out of the house again! Back
for the ladder with red face and muttered ‘Scusa’.
The elemental power of this area is rich.
The volcanic earth provides fertility for the ‘Italian trinity – tomatoes,
basil and olives’ (Keith Floyd) to grow in abundance. The sun bakes the ruins of Volsinii – the
site of Roman Bolsena before the modern town was established a kilometre nearer
the lake. When summer storms break over Lake Bolsena mankind spread around its
rim is treated to a quadraphonic masterpiece of which Phil Spector would be
proud. Recent earthquakes in Abruzzo caused ripples on the surfaces of both the
lake and the glasses of ‘vino rosso’ of the locals. Here is a town in which you
can overdose on sensory experiences.
For millennia the Lazio roads and tracks have
been trodden by sandal, jackboot, running shoe and desert boot - all worn by
busy people on their way somewhere. The shores of Lake Bolsena provided night
shelter for travellers in the Palaeolithic era. Then came the migrant groups of
the Bronze Age, Etruscans, Greeks and Romans; then Lombards, Franks, some
popes; and after them came the French, the Spanish and the Germans. Visitors of
countless nations have wandered through - rarely stopping, rarely staying.
Until, that is, the Renaissance when Bolsena provided an unspoiled haven for
beach lovers from firstly Rome and then Germany, Scandinavia and the
Netherlands. Most came with the intention of claiming this part of the Italian Peninsula
for themselves. The popes probably had no intention of claiming the land; all
of them came to escape the intense heat of Rome, drink wine – and some came to
escape the scandals they left behind. Giovanni de Medici (later Pope Leo X) liked
to strut his stuff around the small town whilst Popes Pius II and III
preferred, like me, to idle away long, happy and lazy days in a perfect climate
reading books.
So there it is, my connection to the
Medicis and Pius II. Like Pius I have found no better place on earth to sit
still for two weeks and read. And cook. And eat. And drink. And love. (The
Medicis did all these things; the jury is still out on Pius).
If you would like to share your experiences of the places
discussed in this blog please record them in the Comments section.
Italy is the country I have travelled in more than any other. My
first visit was in 1971. In the years since I have enjoyed a large range of
subjects in books written largely by British writers, with a few exceptions.
Here is a short list I recommend to those who wish for a wider access to a
fascinating, seductive, history-rich culture.
Non-fiction:
·
The Prince, Niccolo Machiavelli; 1532
·
Twilight in Italy, D.H. Lawrence; 1929
·
War in the Val D’Orcia, Iris Origo; 1947
·
A Season with Verona, Tim Parks; 2002
·
The Pursuit of Italy, David Gilmour; 2011
·
Good Italy, Bad Italy, Bill Emmott; 2012
·
Saving Italy, Robert M. Edsel; 2013
Fiction
·
The Leopard, Giuseppe di Lampedusa; 1958
Crime Fiction (for the best
descriptions of contemporary Italy)
·
All the Commissario Guido Brunetti novels by Donna Leon; set in
Venice
·
The Aurelio Zen novels by Michael Dibdin
·
The Marcus Didio Falco and Flavia Albia novels of Lindsey Davis
·
The Inspector Salvo
Montalbano novels of Andrea Camilleri
Cookery
·
Il Cucchiaio d’argento (The Silver Spoon); 1950
·
Floyd on Italy, Keith Floyd; 1994
‘Veni,
vidi, coxi – I came, I saw, I cooked!’
·
Lorenza’s Pasta, Lorenza de’Medici; 1996
·
Jamie’s Italy, Jamie Oliver; 2005
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