LETTER FROM ROME/Paddy Agnew: Ecery St Patrick's Day in Rome, a cross-section of the Irish community in the Eternal City, clerical and non, gathers for a special morning Mass in one of the Irish religious houses.
This household cannot claim to have been ever-present at such events, but we have put in the odd family appearance, distinguished by style and the Baroness' hat but, alas, oft marred by our late arrival.
If it is the turn of Irish Franciscans to stage the service in their handsome little church at the Collegio Sant'Isidoro, just off central Via Veneto, then arriving late can be problematic.
Friendly friars direct the latecomers upstairs where you sit in the organ loft, blessed with a splendid view of the organist, his pipes and his choir - but able to follow the service in sound only.
It was, therefore, with some relief that your correspondent recently made it into the very nave of the Sant'Isidoro church, accompanied by the current guardian of Sant'Isidoro, Father John Wright.
The purpose of our walkabout was to view the little Capella Da Sylva sidechapel which recently made national headlines when two splendid marble females, Charity and Truth, were restored and revealed in all their full-bosomed glory.
Standing in the nave of the church and admiring the Da Sylva chapel, designed by Baroque maestro Gian Lorenzo Bernini, I was reminded of an incident recounted by Dermot Keogh in his work Ireland And The Vatican.
He relates how Italy's entry into the war on June 10th, 1940, had plunged the Irish religious community in Rome into dismay and uncertainty.
The Irish "envoy extraordinary" to the Mussolini state, namely Michael MacWhite, visited the religious houses, warning that "due caution" had to be taken in public places because English-speakers were often identified in the Italian mind with England.
A meeting of all the heads of Irish religious houses was convened at the Irish College.
There were those, including the rector of the Irish Augustinian community, Father Maurice MacGrath, who felt that, in the interests of safety, the entire Irish community should abandon Rome or risk being "killed in our beds".
The guardian of Sant'Isidoro, Father Hubert Quinn, begged to differ, surprising his colleagues when suggesting that there were those who "were willing to take the risk in order to protect their historic possessions here".
Father Quinn was referring to the fact that the Irish Franciscans had been in Sant'Isidoro since theologian Luke Wadding installed the first batch in June 1625. It may also have been that Father Quinn knew both his baroque art and the value of central Rome real estate.
Whichever it was, the church of Sant'Isidoro is now one of the countless central Rome buildings controlled and regulated (at least for architectural purposes) by the Italian Arts Ministry. Furthermore, it was one of the ministry's restoration experts, Dr Angela Negro, who prompted the restoration of the Da Sylva chapel.
She had long been aware of the little sidechapel's significance. Drawings, now in Leipzig, prove that the chapel was designed by Bernini for his friend, Rodrigo De Sylva, a Portuguese aristocrat with whom he shared lodgings at nearby Via Della Mercede.
Given that at the time (1662-1663) Bernini was involved in the not unimportant task of designing and building the colonnade in St Peter's Square, it would seem Mr De Sylva was a persuasive man.
Bernini set his "pupils" to work, with Giulio Cartari and Paolo Naldini responsible for the Charity and Truth sculptures. The female nudity of their baroque taste, however, proved too much for an unidentified Franciscan guardian of last century, who decided the bare breasts had best be covered up with the equivalent of a brass T-shirt.
Such small-minded prudery was undone by Ms Negro and her restorers last summer, aided, abetted and funded by the Italian Federation of Tobacconists no less. The team was delighted to discover that when the brass bras were removed, the statues underneath were undamaged .
Furthermore, the restoration also uncovered frescoes by Giacinto Gimignani, frescoes which some sensitive soul had simply painted over during a previous "clean-up" of the chapel.
Visitors to Sant'Isidoro can retrace the story of this most recent restoration thanks to a series of splendid drawings.
Mind you, if you just happen to be in Rome on St Patrick's Day, try not to turn up late at Sant'Isidoro - unless you are an organ buff, that is.