Iċ-Ċittadella
Godwin Vella, Daniel Cilia
Ministry for Gozo, Malta
Is it the result of aggressive serendipity that the very last two books I was invited to review both dealt with the only fortified conurbations in Gozo? The two projects could hardly have been more different.
In common, Fort Chambray and the Citadel shared the aesthetic compulsions that the Order of Malta invested in whatever it planned. However utilitarian, unpoetic and mundane its creations, even bricks-and-mortar defensive mechanisms, it aimed at bathing them in beauty.
Late in 2022, the European Union awarded its highest prize to the conservation, restoration and regeneration of the ancient, fortified city of Gozo, originally the Gran Castello and later, and more popularly, the Ċittadella. This followed an extended project that cost over 14 million euros, 12 of which came from the European Fund for Regional Development. The ‘Regiostars Award’ went to Gozo which beat 300 other EU-financed competitors throughout Europe.
This required to be celebrated with pride. After centuries-old failures to combat the ravages of time and of lethargic neglect, the Citadel seemed to have accepted its sorry state, its inevitable fading, with almost defiant fatalism.
Until its resurgence. In 2010, a regeneration master plan was drawn up and work started in earnest the following year. This book records why the authorities now pat themselves on the back for the amazing results achieved. And rarely was self-gratification so merited or so justified.
One outcome of this delight: these 100 pages, overflowing with knowledge and beauty. The book splendidly fulfils two aims – to serve as a comprehensive pocket history of the Citadel (and of Gozo) and as a tribute to its astounding allure. It found the right conveyers for both: Godwin Vella and Daniel Cilia.
The chronicles of the throbbing heart of Gozo, the Ċittadella, are finally receiving considerable attention from historians, the intrigue of their convolutions entirely out of proportion to the fortress’s rather diminutive size. We now know much more than history had discovered up to, say, 50 years ago. But black holes still persist in our knowledge.
Like: did Christianity survive in Gozo during the Islamic occupation? Like: was that masterpiece of funerary poetry, the Majmuna stone, actually discovered in Gozo or even in the Maltese islands? Personally, I have serious reservations about that. Strange that the precious marble, the pride of the Ċittadella Museum, is not illustrated in this book.
Similarly, what do we really know of the uniquely mysterious “crusader” or “Knights Templar” cemetery wantonly destroyed in the late 1940s to make way for a pious oratory? And what about Bernardo De Opuo, from ‘Villa Mirados’, the questionable hero of the 1551 massacre? Why is his coeval memorial tablet surmounted by a large fleur-de-lys? Where is Villa Mirados?
The book splendidly fulfils two aims – to serve as a comprehensive pocket history of the Citadel (and of Gozo) and as a tribute to its astounding allure
He is praised for having killed his wife and two teenage daughters rather than see them fall slaves to the Muslims. By putting them to death, was he doing them a favour, or was he simply gratifying a very macho male right of sole use and possession over inferior females?
We know that during the 250 years of Hospitaller rule, the Order unfailingly appointed senior knights as governors of Gozo. They lorded over everyone as the top men of the island. But their functions, their responsibilities, their achievements, their status and rituals, even their names, continue to remain virtually unexplored. Fancy a history of Malta ignoring everything about its rulers. Again, did the Inquisition operate in Gozo, and if so, how?
And when, in March 1802, Britain signed the Treaty of Amiens to return the Maltese islands to the Order of St John, rejoicings swept through Gozo. A petition signed by all the leading Gozitans authorised Fernando Axiaq to proceed to Trieste to welcome the deposed Grand Master Hompesch back to the islands. But Alexander Ball, who had deliberate plans for the terms of the Treaty to fail, arrested him and threw him in jail. The petition never reached Hompesch. Why is this episode almost airbrushed out of the history of Gozo?
I believe, empirically I admit, that pro capita, Gozo generated many more eminent personalities than Malta did, yet even this social (or is it genetic?) phenomenon so far remains strangely suppressed. Vella and other eminent scholars have thankfully answered many questions. I am throwing in the cauldron just a tiny few more I am still quite curious about.
Cilia claims all the imagery in these pages, and here is where I risk running out of superlatives. I must confess my unqualified weakness where Cilia is concerned. His holds me in thrall. Everything his camera captures he instantly imbues with pure magic, but for this Ċittadella project, he has overdone himself – each and every single panorama he alchemises into vibrant poetry.
Can the photograph of a reality end up being more beautiful than the reality itself? I thought that very concept to be absurd, until I was floored by Daniel’s wizardry.
Whether he throws at the Citadel viciously saturated colours or the most nuanced of anaemic shades, whether his lens faces the architectures or challenges them from weird angles, whether this results in heightened reality or in illusion, the Ċittadella is both itself and a metaphor of itself. I would not like to be forced to choose which I consider Daniel’s masterpiece, but, with a gun to my head, I would opt for this.