Some historians argue that the origin of the structure dates back to ancient tree rituals in which the majo, the largest tree, was taken as a symbol of fertility. With the difference that around the majo people would walk and move, while the lily, on the other hand, is dynamic and is moved among the people. Its symbolic meaning is also different from that of ancient festivals characterized by phallic worship. The lily is indeed closer to religion and devotion to the patron saint than to the request for prosperity.
But there is also the hypothesis that sees the gigli as an exaggerated evolution of the “cataletti,” the wooden carriers with which the faithful transported the large lit candles in honor of the patron saint. The candles in dialect were called “cilii,” and from here the term gigli originates.
Over the centuries, the size of the cataletti has become increasingly larger, the shape from square has become pyramidal, with more superimposed tiers, and instead of the candles, the first decorations made with flowers and wheat ears appeared.
Then in the 1700s, the competition between various trade guilds began, the obelisks took on greater and greater heights and the decorations became more sophisticated. In the 1800s, draperies and papier-mâché decorations began, and the gigli were enriched with Gothic, Baroque, and Rococo motifs.
The construction of the gigli of Nola is very complex and it takes several months of work. Essentially, fir, poplar, or well-seasoned chestnut wood is used because every time the giglio is slammed on the ground it must produce a sharp sound. Carpenters, shipwrights, painters, sculptors are involved in the work, and the design is increasingly often the work of architects. First, the central structure of the spire, the “borda,” is made, introduced for the first time in 1887 to give greater stability and elasticity to the giglio.
This long axis tapers at the top and is composed of the union of four pieces of wood joined together with bolts and locks. When the borda is finished, but not before affixing the image of Saint Paulinus to the wood, it is raised and rested against a building, and with long ropes it is tied wherever possible so it doesn’t fall. If the operation is successful, amid the bursts of firecrackers and small mortars, the “mastro di festa” with the capo paranza and all members of the guild pop the champagne, toast, and wet the pole for good luck. At this point, the base of the giglio is prepared, a square structure, three meters high and two and a half meters wide, with pieces of wood twenty centimeters thick. In the center, either vertical or slightly tilted backward, the long wooden core is positioned around which the entire stage machine will be built. Then the other tiers are assembled, a total of six pieces, which become narrower and shorter as they go up. The giglio’s dimensions are predetermined and must be the same for all: ” for’ ‘e carcere,” where the current Mandamentale Prison is, a popular jury is tasked with checking that each obelisk complies with the established parameters, under penalty of exclusion from the festival.
When the whole framework is complete, the wooden bars that will be used to lift the machine are arranged: eight fixed “varre” that go from one side to the other of the base lengthwise, and eight “varricelle” on each side, arranged transversely, which can be removed when crossing the narrowest alleys. Once, the “varre” were tied to the base with “muscielli,” very strong ropes that have almost completely been replaced by elastic bands and other more modern materials. Now the giglio is complete and “bare,” it weighs about two tons and is twenty-five meters high.
During the procession, the gigli are accompanied by a boat, also carried on the shoulder, which constitutes the fulcrum around which the whole festival revolves. On board are the statues of Saint Paulinus and a Turk holding a saber. This year, for the first time, no committee requested to build it. The municipality therefore asked the Pro Loco to do so and allocated a contribution of 35,000 euros. Meanwhile, the Associazione Contea Nolana has proposed to establish a permanent committee entrusted with the task for future years.
The setup of the eight gigli takes place in different points of Nola’s historic center, and once work is finished, the men of the paranze, accompanied by the music band, move them close to the homes of their respective “maestri di festa.” It is the first official test, and now finally the frame can be covered with the papier-mâché works made by the “giglianti” masters. The art of working papier-mâché developed in Nola at the beginning of the 1800s and although sophisticated products such as polyurethanes or epoxy resins are now used, papier-mâché remains the preferred material to make these stage machines with ever more surprising aesthetics. The procedure to build the panels may seem simple at first glance, but in reality, it hides an art passed down for generations. The artisans first prepare the various plastic sketches and then create the shapes with plaster on which the papier-mâché will be molded.
After checking that the joints of the individual pieces match exactly, the final painting is done, and then the assembly on the “bare” giglio begins, which is done using a pulley previously mounted on the cusp. When the obelisk is finished it weighs more than four tons, and the one hundred and twenty “cullatori” of the paranza have the arduous task of carrying it on their shoulders along the narrow streets of Nola’s historic center to stop then in the cathedral square. All the terms used in the festival come from the port environments of Naples, where once men were recruited for carrying the gigli: the paranzaro was the one who organized the group of stevedores to unload ships, while the “cullata” was the name given to the oscillating movement of the loads carried on the shoulder. Unfortunately, many of the ancient terms are gradually disappearing because the gigli festival is increasingly characterized by technology and competition. Before the advent of loudspeakers, for example, there was a command that the paranzaro gave to raise and slam the heavy structure to the ground: …”uagliù…aizate ‘e spalle…cuonce cuonce …e ghiettele!” with three long and slow calls for attention. Today this phrase is no longer heard in Nola. But it can be heard in Brooklyn, in the community of Nola emigrants to the United States at the beginning of the last century, who in their suitcases also brought some of their traditions. Like the gigli festival held every year in Williamsburg.
