Under Benito Mussolini, who was obsessed with recreating his own version of the Roman Empire, the village that had for centuries been called Borgo San Donnino was recrhistened—or, rather, un-christened—Fidenza. The new name harkened back to the place’s long-ago history as a Roman encampment along the Via Emilia trade route, a settlement that was called Fidentia, “trust” or “confidence” in Latin (or so Google tells me).
It was thus that the town’s patron saint, San Donnino, was ejected from the town’s name. But decades later he is in no danger of being forgotten. That’s thanks first of all to the austerely beautiful 12th-century cathedral that was built over his grave and in his honor, Fidenza’s most venerable and tourist-attracting landmark. It also helps that San Donnino has a very catchy story.
Legend has it that Donnino (Domninius in Latin) was a high official under the unfortunately named Roman emperor Maximianus, both a military chief and the first keeper of the emperor’s crown. Defying Maximianus’s furious opposition to the spread of Christianity, Donnino converted, as did hundreds of other members of the military. They were systematically martyred, and eventually the emperor’s men came after Donnino.
They caught up with him on the banks of the Stirone, where he was summarily decapitated. Powered by either faith or an extreme case of cadaveric spasm, Donnino picked up his head and crossed to the other side of the river before finally succumbing to being dead
He was supposedly buried where he fell, by persons unknown. His grave soon became a site of devotion for other Christians and he was credited with several miracles, albeit rather unimpressive ones. One concerned a man whose horse was lost. He prayed to San Donnino and his horse turned up sometime afterward, which doesn’t seem terribly miraculous. Then a pregnant woman was crossing a nearby wooden bridge when it collapsed. She called on San Donnino for help and was saved, although if we can go by the depiction of this miracle in a frieze on the front of the Fidenza Duomo, the saint didn’t do anything for the other citizens on the bridge, who appear to be crashing into the river.
I’ve also seen very nonspecific comments about San Donnino’s posthumous penchant for healing the sick. Perhaps that’s what the panel (below) on the saint’s former crypt in the Duomo is trying to indicate by showing San Donnino with a man with a crutch. Is he healing him, or offering him his head, or perhaps just some theological advice?
All that is the traditional view of the saint, and it hasn’t gone out of fashion. Every year the town spends October 9, the date of San Donnino’s martyrdom, plus quite a few more days besides, celebrating Fidenza’s patron saint with an all-city festa. One year this large chalk drawing appeared on a street near us as part of the festivities.
But there are also plenty of more modern, and less reverential, takes on this locally famous personage. Last fall a show in the town’s exhibition space, formerly the classical high school and before that the local Fascist headquarters, featured portraits of the saint by several local illustrators.
The exhibit offered little printed cards of some of the images, reminiscent of prayer cards. But instead of a prayer, the text on the other side memorializes the show, “Contemporary San Donnino,” in which “some of the most brilliant illustrators on the international scene” revisit “the myth of the cephalophorus patron saint of Fidenza.” That word (cefaloforo in Italian) was new to me; it means “head-carrying.” Apparently so many saints miraculously carried their heads around after they were cut off that the word “cephalophore” was cointed to describe them.
Also on display at the show was this T-shirt, but they didn’t seem to have any for sale. As a non-native Fidentina I wouldn’t be qualified to wear one, anyway. (“Borgo” of course refers to the town’s old, pre-Fascist name.) I thought the globus cruciger tie (the globe-and-cross symbol of Christian authority) was a very appropriate accessory.
In recent weeks there have been several city festas, although none on the massive scale of the San Donnino festival in October, and I’ve been expecting the saint to turn up again. So far I’ve only spotted him once, on one of the windows that Ale Giorgi, an illustrator in last fall’s show, decorated all over town. The occasion was the InBORGO festa, “un weekend creativo a Fidenza” with readings, talks, walks, and other activities. (At least I think that’s which festa it was…really, there is something going on here nearly every weekend, so I might be remembering the wrong one.)
The “for rent” sign is one of many in our little centro storico. The town’s economy was hit hard by the pandemic and by all the changes that are hurting small local shops everywhere. But Fidenza’s streets and piazzas and bars are full of people, especially now that the rain has stopped and the weather has turned warm, and the town’s mood seems as lively and upbeat as ever. I hope that, like San Donnino, Fidenza’s downtown will find a way to keep going.
Your observations of the local culture are hysterical as usual! I LOVE the contemporary art depictions of the saint, and Maximianus was one weird looking dude. Thanks for sharing!
it's always a pleasure to ready your "Quanto? Tanto!" We always hope for more. It is good to learn about the origins of the town as well as its change in name.! We hope for more of "tanto!"