Revolutionary Abstraction

Scène de Juillet 1830 (Les Drapeaux), 1830, Léon Cogniet, Musée des
Beaux-Arts d’Orléans. Painted to glorify the July Revolution, Cogniet
portrays the white Bourbon flag pierced, bloodied, and reborn as the
French Tricolour. The artist intended to celebrate the revolution's
victory. I see the painting instead as a vivid record of its assault
on monarchy, tradition, and the historic symbols of France.

“The tricolor! Tricolor indeed! They fill their mouths with these words, the rascals. What does that ugly geometric sign, that aping of the French mean, compared to our white banner with its golden lily in the middle? What hope can those clashing colors bring them?” — Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, The Leopard (Il Gattopardo)

Not long ago, someone offered me a complimentary Italia shirt emblazoned with the Italian Tricolor. I thanked him for the gesture but politely declined. Puzzled, he insisted that I take it anyway, as though I had not understood the offer. When I refused a second time, his confusion turned to irritation, and he became increasingly determined to press it into my hands. Only when I finally replied that I would not be caught dead wearing that rag did he abandon the effort and storm away in a fit of indignation. The exchange reminded me just how differently people can view a flag. To many Italian Americans, the tricolor is an unquestioned emblem of heritage and ethnic pride. To me, it represents something altogether different.

Few symbols leave me as cold as the tricolor. Not merely the Italian tricolor, but the entire family of tricolors that swept across Europe in the wake of revolution. Whenever I see them, I think less of nations than of ideologies: republicanism, egalitarianism, and the deliberate rejection of the older order.

The banners of kingdoms spoke a different language. They bore dynastic arms, sacred emblems, ancient crosses, lilies, eagles, lions, and crowns. They proclaimed continuity rather than rupture and inheritance over construction. A royal standard represented a people shaped through centuries of history, faith, and tradition.

The tricolor, by contrast, symbolizes the triumph of universal abstractions over inherited patrimonies and of utopian ideals over civilization. From one republic to another, their three interchangeable bands differ little except in whether they are tierced in pale or in fess.

I recognize that millions look upon these flags with sincere patriotism, and I do not question their affection. Yet I cannot share it. My allegiance belongs to older symbols: the Bourbon lilies, the imperial eagle, the Cross of Burgundy, the crowned escutcheon, and the heraldic language that once clothed Europe in visible memory.

To me, a flag should evoke more than a state. It should remind us that a nation is an inheritance rather than a political project, a sacred trust received from our ancestors rather than an experiment devised by legislators and ideologues. That is why, whenever I see a tricolor fluttering in the wind, I cannot help but feel that something immeasurably older, richer, and more beautiful was lowered from the mast to make way for it.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 2nd, Feast of the Holy Martyrs of September

Further Reading:
L’Italia non esiste. «Una d’arme, di lingua, d’altare»? Considerazioni sull’identità italiana pre- e post-risorgimentale, Anales de la Fundación Francisco Elías de Tejada, Year XXV (2019).

Feast of Our Lady of Vailankanni at St. John Vianney Church in Colonia, New Jersey

She: A Haunting Vision of Lost Worlds

“Often I sit alone at night, staring with the eyes of the mind into the darkness of unborn time, and wondering in what shape and form the great drama will be finally developed, and where the scene of its next act will be laid.” ~ H. Rider Haggard, She

I have become increasingly frustrated, and frankly disgusted, with the state of modern fantasy and science fiction films. So much of it feels soulless and derivative, overwhelmed by spectacle, ideology, and subversive messaging at the expense of mystery, imagination, and wonder. As a result, I have taken to watching and re-watching old favorites and classics, returning to an era when filmmakers still understood that the fantastic should transport us somewhere strange, beautiful, and beyond the ordinary.

She (1935) is a wonderfully atmospheric tale, based on H. Rider Haggard’s celebrated 1887 novel She: A History of Adventure, one of the great works of Victorian imaginative literature. Filled with peril, adventure, and the supernatural, the film blends romance, archaeology, and the arcane.

Helen Gahagan as Queen Hash-A-Mo-Tep
in She (1935), wearing the regal costume
and headdress that would influence the
appearance of Disney's Queen Grimhilde in
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

In this adaptation, the immortal Ayesha, known as “She-who-must-be-obeyed,” becomes Queen Hash-A-Mo-Tep, portrayed unforgettably by Helen Gahagan with an imperious beauty and otherworldly presence. Her striking appearance would later serve as a model for Disney's Evil Queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). The film’s lavish visual design and dreamlike imagery bring this Gothic epic vividly to life.

The novel’s vision of an ancient civilization hidden from the modern world helped establish many of the conventions of the lost-world genre and has inspired generations of writers and artists. The 1935 adaptation captures the author’s fascination with forbidden places, the mysterious past, and the allure of immortality.

One of the film’s most significant departures from the novel is its shift from the remote interior of Africa to the frozen reaches of Muscovy. Beyond the forbidding Shugal Barrier lies the forgotten Kingdom of Kôr, a mythical land seemingly cut off from the known world and the course of history.

The change opened a new frontier while giving the picture a haunting atmosphere of glaciers, savage troglodytes, and an ancient kingdom concealed beneath snowbound mountains. It also helped distinguish the 1935 version from earlier adaptations, transforming Haggard’s tropical lost world into a strange, subterranean realm. Although far removed from the novel’s geography, the Siberian setting preserves the essential idea at the heart of the original story: an arduous expedition into a place seemingly untouched by time.

My two editions of H. Rider Haggard's She

Rewatching She only deepened my appreciation for the film. The magnificent sets, elaborate costumes, evocative cinematography, and Max Steiner’s sweeping musical score create a sense of grandeur and enchantment that I find sorely missing from so much modern filmmaking. Nearly a century later, She remains a captivating relic of Hollywood fantasy at its most imaginative and romantic.

I also enjoyed the smaller details: the way people spoke, carried themselves, dressed, and interacted with one another. There is a formality and courtesy even in ordinary exchanges that belongs to another world as surely as the film’s lost kingdom does. Watching She was therefore more than an escape into fantasy. It was also, in its own way, an escape into the past, and for a little while I was happy to lose myself in both.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 1st, Feast of Sant’Egidio 

Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost at Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Jersey City, New Jersey

Simple Pleasures — Napoli or Nothing

Spotted this Napoli or Nothing sticker on the bar at the Italian American Emporium in Little Italy, New York. The bar is slowly becoming a collage as more stickers are added, with plenty of room still left to fill. Among the growing collection, this little declaration of Neapolitan pride immediately caught my eye.

Buon Capodanno Bizantino! Happy New Year to Our Byzantine Brethren!

In the Byzantine Rite September 1st is the beginning of a new liturgical year. For centuries, Byzantine civilization flourished in Southern Italy until being absorbed by the dominant Latin population. However, pockets of the Divine Liturgy and old cultural traditions still exist today and, in some cases, they continue to grow and thrive again.

Harking back to its Imperial roots, Amalfi and neighboring Atrani commemorate Byzantine New Year with a two day medieval themed festival, extolling the past glories of the ancient maritime Republic. Beginning on the eve on August 31st, revelers will partake in a series of popular amusements and entertainments, including music, local delicacies, fireworks and, of course, the grand procession of Knights and Ladies in period costumes (corteo storico rievocativo) reenacting the bygone investiture of the new Magister di Civiltà Amalfitana. 

In celebration, I’m posting prayers for the Beginning of the Church Year from Byzantine Catholic Prayer for the Home. They are meant for private use. Pictured is my WWI Byzantine Cross Combat Rosary from Rugged Rosaries. Buon Capodanno Bizantino!

Troparia

Troparion of the lndiction Tone 2 You spaced the seasons and the years on Your Own authority, so bless the beginning of this New Year, O Creator. Preserve our authorities and our state in peace, O Lord, through the prayers of the Theotokos, and save us.

Kontakion of the lndiction Tone 2 Christ our King Who dwells on high, bless the beginning of this new year. For You are the One Who set the seasons and the years. You are the One Who made both night and day. Protect our authorities, our state and our people, and keep them at peace, O merciful Lord. 

Stichera
Glory be...now and ever…O Eternal Word and Son, together with the Holy Spirit, Creator + and Maker of all things visible and invisible, bless the beginning of the year, keep in peace all the faithful, through the prayers of the Theotokos and all Your saints. 

Views from the Far North: Friends' Journey Through Iceland

Leif Erikson monument in front of Hallgrímskirkja Church, Reykjavik

Friends recently returned from Iceland and shared photographs from their journey through that strange and beautiful northland. Their images reveal a landscape that seems almost primordial: immense waterfalls plunging through black rock, glaciers stretching toward distant mountains, erupting geysers, volcanic fields, dramatic rock formations, lonely roads, and native wildlife beneath vast skies.

(Above and below) Traditional Icelandic turf houses

(L) Monument to Snorri Sturluson. (R) Geothermal pool and
doorway to tunnel thought to be linked to Sturluson's house

Búlandstindur mountain

(L) Strokkur Geyser. (R) Dynjandi Falls

Dynjandi Falls

Seljalandsfoss Falls

Dynjandi Falls

Stuðlagil Canyon

Basalt columns

Icelandic horses

Puffins

Arctic fox

(L) Raven. (R) Seal

Blue ice

(L) Reynisfjara. (R) Hvitserkur

Reynisfjara Black Sand Beach

Garðar BA 64

Presentazione del libro Insigne Real Ordine di San Gennaro di Alfonso de Ceballos-Escalera e Fabio Cassani Pironti

Drawn to the Sphinx

Aeolipile (steam blower), South German, Augsburg, or Bohemian, Prague (Czech Republic), ca. 1590-1600, bronze with dark patina, silver

After re-visiting the Della Robbia exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, I first meandered through the nearby Northern Renaissance Gallery, then found myself among the antiquities of Greece and Rome. Along the way, I was drawn again and again to the figures of the Sphinx.

Winged, beautiful, and deadly, the offspring of Orthus and the Chimera (or, in some traditions, of Typhon and Echidna) belongs to that shadowy realm where beauty and terror become inseparable. An enigmatic creature of ancient Hellas, her riddle meant revelation or death. It is little wonder that artists and poets found her irresistible.

As I wandered through the museum halls, it felt as if I were passing through a dream where sacred mysteries, strange creatures, and intimations of death converged. The Sphinx seemed perfectly at home there, silently guarding the threshold between beauty and oblivion.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, August 30th, Feast of Santa Rosa da Lima, the Holy Martyrs of Salerno, and San Fiacrio

Intended to be filled partway with water through an opening in the sphinx's headpiece and then heated, this mysterious vessel releases pressurized steam through a pin-sized hole between her lips. If blown over glowing coals, the steam can create a flammable gas composed of hydrogen and carbon monoxide, so that the sculpture appears to spit fire just like the mythological sphinx

Marble capital and finial in the form of a sphinx, Greek, Attic, ca. 530 B.C.

Marble stele (grave marker) of a youth and a little girl, Greek, Attic, ca. 530 B.C. Inscribed on the base: To the dead Philo and Me [...] the father erected (this) monument, and together the dear mother...

Limestone Sphinx, Greek, Attic, ca. 550-525 B.C.

(L) Marble sphinx on a cavetto capital, Greek, Attic, ca. 580-575 B.C.
Inscribed on the plinth: I am the monument of [ ]linos.
(R) Sphinx stand, Greek, Attic, red-figure, ca. 520 B.C.

Nenfro statue of a winged lion, Etruscan, ca. 550 B.C.

Several statues of this type, made from nenfro, a kind of volcanic stone used
extensively at Vulci, depict winged lions and sphinxes. These were set up to
protect the entrances to subterranean chamber tombs covered by a tumulus
(earthen mound). They often appear in pairs and represent the Etruscan
response to a long tradition of guardian figures stretching back to
ancient Egypt and the Near East

Photo of the Week: Statua di Augusto, Via Cesario Console, Napoli

Photo by New York Scugnizzo

Regina Pacis Academy Monthly Traditional Latin Masses in Norwalk, Connecticut

Il Portastendardo di Civitella del Tronto (n. 62 - Agosto 2026)

Simple Pleasures — A Long-Overdue Re-Bagging

Re-bagging and boarding my old comic books has been on my to-do list for longer than I care to admit. What I imagined would be a simple after-dinner task quickly turned into a multi-evening trip down memory lane. It was impossible to replace the old bags without stopping to flip through them, admire the art, or reread a story I had nearly forgotten.

The diversion has been a welcome bit of escapism, even if progress has been slower than expected.

The Decollation of St. John the Baptist

Salome with the Head of John the Baptist,
ca. 1876, Gustave Moreau (1826-1898)

On August 29th, the Church commemorates the Passion of St. John the Baptist, the beheading of the voice that cried out in the wilderness.

John had rebuked Herod Antipas for his unlawful union with his niece and sister-in-law, Herodias, and for this he was cast into prison. At Herod’s birthday feast, Salome, the daughter of Herodias, danced before the court and so pleased the ruler that he rashly promised to grant whatever she desired. Prompted by her mother, she asked for the head of John the Baptist upon a platter.

I have always been struck by the terrible contrast of the scene: the revelry of the palace and the solitude of the prison, the weakness of Herod and the steadfastness of John. One man possessed a kingdom yet could not master himself. The other possessed nothing, not even his freedom, yet remained unafraid to speak the truth.

The sword silenced the herald of Christ, but it could not silence what he had proclaimed. Evviva San Giovanni! 
 
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, August 28th, Feast of Sant’Agostino di Ippona

New Book: History of the Young Francesco II of Naples

A new title that may be of interest to our readers. Available at Amazon.com

• History of the Young Francesco II of Naples by Romualdo M. De Velazquez

Publisher: Independently published
Pub. Date: August 5, 2026
Paperback: $21.00
Kindle: $1.99
Language: English
Pages: 276

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