Some historians believe that the origin of the structure dates back to ancient tree rituals in which the majo, the largest tree, was assumed as a symbol of fertility. The difference is that people would circle around the majo and move around it, while the lily is dynamic and carried among the people. Its symbolic meaning also differs from ancient festivals characterized by phallic worship. In fact, the lily is closer to religion and devotion to the patron saint rather than a request for prosperity.
But there is also the hypothesis that sees the lilies as an exaggerated evolution of the “cataletti,” the wooden carriers with which the faithful transported large lit candles in honor of the patron saint. Candles in dialect were called “cilii,” and from here the term lilies arises.
Over the centuries, the size of the cataletti became increasingly larger, the shape changed from square to pyramidal, with multiple stacked levels, and in place of the candles appeared the first decorations made with flowers and wheat ears.
Then in the 1700s, competition began among various trade guilds; the obelisks reached ever greater heights and the decorations became more sophisticated. In the 1800s, drapes and papier-mâché decorations started, and the lilies were enriched with Gothic, Baroque, and Rococo motifs.
The construction of the lilies of Nola is very complex and takes several months of work. Essentially, well-seasoned fir, poplar, or chestnut wood is used because every time the lily is struck on the ground, it must emit a sharp sound. The work involves carpenters, boatwrights, painters, sculptors, and the design is increasingly often the work of architects. First, the central structure of the spire, the “borda,” is made; it was introduced for the first time in 1887 to provide greater stability and elasticity to the lily.
This long shaft tapers at the top and is composed of four pieces of wood joined together with bolts and locks. When the borda is finished, but not before affixing the image of Saint Paolino on the wood, it is raised and leaned against a building, and tied with long ropes wherever possible to prevent it from falling. If the operation succeeds, amid bursts of firecrackers and small mortars, the “master of the feast” with the head of the paranza and all members of the guild pop the champagne, toast, and wet the shaft for good luck. At this point, the base of the lily is prepared, a square structure, three meters high and two and a half meters wide, with twenty-centimeter-thick wood beams. At the center, perpendicular or slightly tilted backward, the long wooden spine is positioned around which the entire scenic machine will be built. Then the other levels are assembled, six pieces in total, which narrow and become shorter as they rise higher. The sizes of the lily are predetermined and must be the same for all: “for’ ‘e carcere,” where the current Mandamentale Prison stands, a popular jury is tasked with ensuring that each obelisk fits within the established parameters, under penalty of exclusion from the feast.
When the entire framework is complete, the wooden bars used to lift the structure are arranged: eight fixed “varre” running across the base lengthwise and eight “varricelle” per side laid crosswise, which can be removed to pass through narrower alleys. Formerly, the “varre” were tied to the base with “muscielli,” very strong ropes, almost entirely replaced today by elastic bands and other more modern materials. Now the lily is complete and “naked,” weighs about two tons, and is twenty-five meters high.
During the procession, the lilies are accompanied by a boat, also carried on the shoulder, which forms the centerpiece around which the whole feast revolves. On board are the statues of Saint Paolino and a Turkish man holding a saber. This year, for the first time, no committee applied to build it. Therefore, the Municipality asked the Pro Loco to do it and allocated a contribution of 35,000 euros. Meanwhile, the Nolana County Association proposed forming a permanent committee to handle this task in future years.
The assembly of the eight lilies takes place in various points of Nola’s historic center, and when finished, the men of the paranze, accompanied by the music band, move them close to the homes of their respective “masters of the feast.” This is the first official test, and now the frame can finally be covered with the papier-mâché works created by the “lily masters.” The art of working with papier-mâché developed in Nola in the early 1800s, and although sophisticated products like polyurethane or epoxy resins are now used, papier-mâché remains the preferred material to create these scenic machines with ever more surprising aesthetics. The procedure to build the panels might seem simple at first glance but actually hides an art passed down through generations. Craftsmen first prepare various plastic sketches, then create the forms with plaster on which the papier-mâché will be modeled.
After verifying that the joints of the individual pieces fit precisely, they proceed to the final painting and then assembly on the “naked” lily, which is done using a pulley previously mounted on the spire. When the obelisk is finished, it weighs over four tons, and the 120 “cullatori” of the paranza have the tiring job of carrying it on their shoulders along the narrow streets of Nola’s historic center, finally stopping in the Cathedral square. All the terms used in the feast come from the Naples port environment, where men were once recruited to transport the lilies: the paranzaro was the one organizing the group of dockworkers to unload ships, while the “cullata” was the name given to the oscillatory movement of loads carried on the shoulder. Unfortunately, many old terms are gradually disappearing because the feast of the lilies is increasingly marked by technology and competition. Before loudspeakers were introduced, for example, there was a command that the paranzaro gave to lift and strike the heavy structure on the ground: …”uagliù…aizate ‘e spalle…cuonce cuonce …e ghiettele!” with three long and slow attention calls. Today, this phrase is no longer heard in Nola. But you can hear it in Brooklyn, in the community of Nola emigrants to the United States in the early last century, who carried a bit of their traditions in their suitcases as well—like the feast of the lilies held every year in Williamsburg.
