My favourite Roman nativity scene, and the 800th anniversary of the presepe
The first Christmas tree in front of St Peter’s Basilica was erected in 1982 which, while not as recent as I might like to think, is neither aeons ago. Greenery bringing light and life to the darkest of days is an emphatically Nordic tradition; the festive decorations of the Italian peninsula traditionally revolve around the presepe (nativity scene).
The ideator of the presepe was none other than Saint Francis of Assisi, seen here in a portrait painted from life—the only one known to exist—at the Sacro Speco at Subiaco during his visit there in 1223 and restored this year for its eight hundredth anniversary.
In Christmas of that same year, at Greccio in Umbria, Saint Francis held the midnight Mass in a cave. He placed straw on the ground and brought in a donkey and an ox. Villagers played the parts of Mary and Joseph, and a borrowed baby stood in for the infant Christ when the moment came. These were the immersive special effects of the thirteenth century. This was not a distant event which had happened a long time ago and far away: rather it were as if the Nativity were playing out in real time in front of the people of Greccio.
These live Nativity scenes became very popular, and in the late thirteenth century Pope Nicholas IV asked Arnolfo di Cambio to create a nativity scene carved from marble. In the sixteenth century it was placed at Santa Maria Maggiore—home to the relic of the Holy Crib—and, though it has migrated around the church ever since, it is still there.
Presepi became ever more popular, reaching their apogee in eighteenth century Naples where ever more elaborate genre scenes developed. Taverns, markets, and local architectural details swallow up the Holy Family in a swell of ebullience. There’s often a water wheel somewhere. Presepi are always, just about, on the right side of kitsch and I love them.
One of the finest in Rome is an eighteenth century scene of Neapolitan manufacture at the glorious church of Saints Cosma and Damian which abuts the Roman Forum. The church occupies parts of both the Temple thought to have been dedicated to Romulus (the son of the fourth century emperor Maxentius, not the city’s founder) and Vespasian’s Forum of Peace, the wall which was once home to the Forma Urbis is now an external wall of the adjacent monastery.
The presepe is on display all year round in a room off the cloister, just on the right as you go in by the souvenir stand and a small donation is the thing.
In all of its widescreen glory it is a fabulously un-literal juxtaposition of ancient ruins and medieval houses, of gleefully anachronistic vignettes and geographical improbabilities.
The infant Christ (traditionally absent until Christmas Eve but here present year round) is laid in straw in the ruins of a Corinthian-columned Roman temple of the sort barely a stone’s throw away in the Roman Forum.
Oblivious to the momentous events unfolding behind the columns, to the right women hang laundry on a balcony above a vehemently Roman tiled roof, unheeding of an annunciate angel flying over their heads.
Water is drawn from a well; chestnuts roast; firewood is delivered; and a cow placidly grazes.
A florid troubadour plays, or perhaps pesters a woman, or both in front of a tavern.
And in the midst of it all the turbaned Magi come bearing their gifts accompanied by a couple of camels, casually conjured up in the midst of the Roman scene. I just love it.
Great piece Agnes I share your fascination of presepi One year we visited that street in Naples where they sell all the figures- even someone making pizza.
It's a perennial joy to go presepe hopping around Rome. There's been a lot of upgrading over the years. Sadly, I'll have to miss this Christmas so your walk will be much appreciated.