Skeletons and other Neapolitan beliefs

We walked to Santa Maria delle anime del Purgatorio ad Arco one morning, via the high green courtyard of the Conservatory of Music, where voices soar and pianos roll in glorious chaos, and a plump young stone Beethoven sprawls. Santa Maria is, by contrast, a quiet place with its own raucous inner music.

The Baroque church is immaculate and light--only the altar painting hints at the peculiarly Neapolitan form of worship, the adoption of the skulls of the pezzentelle--little begging souls of purgatory. In the Manneristic painting a dark haired Neapolitan Madonna reaches down for the straining burning souls in Purgatory. What is hidden from view is the marble skull below it. The practice, exemplified also by the Fontanelle Cemetery with its caves of bones, was to adopt skulls, polish them, care for them, pray and make offerings for their anonymous souls. In 1600, at Santa Maria delle anime del Purgatorio ad Arco, as many as 60 masses a day were held for these anonymous souls by the superstitious poor, who received in turn favors from aristocratic believers. Encouraged by The Counter Reformation, which was very interested in the souls of Purgatory, the practice was banned by a Cardinal in 1969 but continued in force till 1980, with a special streetcar to handle the heavy traffic to the church. Due to the church's official position, I couldn't take pictures--I was not even allowed to keep the brochure.

Crypt of Santa Maria delle anime del Purgatorio

Below is the dark crypt for worshiping the bones and skulls that have been deposited at a deeper level in a mass grave for the poor. The bones are worshiped and prayed for, in hopes that the supplicant will be given the same favor. Skulls, bones, trinkets and photographs in gaudy little niches are covered with photographs of the supplicants who hope to be favored in the afterlife. Lucy, the Patroness of Brides, is celebrated --legend has it her rich father killed her because she fell in love with a poor man. (The tale has probably been developed over time.) Tables of photographs of the dead and the supplicants reminded me of New York in the days after 9/11. The nobleman who financed the church is prominently represented by his family's skulls.

Veiled Christ

A few streets over is the much-advertised Sansevero Chapel which was open even during siesta, at an exorbitant price--7 euros to visit the small chapel and 2 ghoulish "anatomical machines." Masonic Grand Master, alchemist and touted enlightenment figure, Raimondo di Sangro, seventh Prince of Sansevero, had engaged skilled sculptors for his family's mausoleum. He envisioned an artistic monument to initiation into higher mysteries. The chapel carries the mystique of his reputation as a magus. Most celebrated among the skillful marble sculptures are the Veiled Christ, a remarkably detailed marble of the body in a placenta-like veil, and the so-called figure of Modesty who is rather an extremely explicit body beneath a gauzy clinging veil, also in marble. Another tour de force in marble is the fish net over Raimundo's prodigal father, a dissolute man who woke up to the Lord late in life. The dense chapel is filled with pompous symbols and Baroque theatre, but it was most conspicuously filled with thuggish guards. We concluded the place had been taken over by the Camorra (Naples' crime family), as more and more strong men appeared at every minute to keep me from taking photos. They urged us to the lower level with its anatomical machines (skeletons) which were supposed to be wonders of the prince's alchemical skills. So-called "real blood vessels" enveloped the two skeletons, looking more like webs of gray metal. Rumors have since hounded the alchemist that he froze the blood of two young men while they were still alive.

Cloister, Carthusian Monastery

San Gaudosio Catacomb

Skeletons, in fact, are everywhere. Skulls line the cloister of the sumptuous Carthusian Monastery. Below Naples, in the Catacombs of San Gaudosio, Dominican monks who treated the corpses of Bishops also decorated the corridors by embedding skulls and sometimes whole skeletons into the wall plaster, painting whimsical clothing around them.

Gothic chapel of the Duomo

Another repository of very Neapolitan belief is the Duomo, where we walked in the driving rain one afternoon. The Cathedral to San Gennaro is an enormous cavernous church, originally gothic, now every surface Baroque marble, but an exquisite gothic chapel remains. The Tresoro is filled with gold reliquaries, including the famous one of San Gennaro that contains two vials of his blood. They are said to liquify on two religious days of the year--if they fail to do so, calamities are imminent. This centuries' old practice continues in the present. Priests parade the vials for the people to see and kiss--certainly the heat of all these worshipers must melt the substance in the vials!

Oldest Baptistery in the Western World

What is now a side chapel of the Duomo had been the original 4th c. church. Later it was cloaked in Baroque marble, an almost carnavalesque little theatre, but it retains a dignified 14th c mosaic chapel. And in a more primitive room from the original 4th c. church is the oldest Baptistery in the Western World. A rough stone basin sits in the brick floor, where supplicants were doused in rising springs. Then they had only to raise their eyes up to sparkling Byzantine mosaics of the 4th c.

4th c. Byzantine mosaics

In many churches the tin ex-votos lined up remind you of a general faith in healing powers. One bright morning we passed through a little street famous for its mandolins, pushing against the crowds of the dense neighborhood to the opulent Gesu Nuova church, the Jesuit monument to heavy marble and Jesus. The sun poured through high windows while Neapolitans prayed and confessed to priests with their unctuous smiles.

Ex-votos in Gesu Nuova

An entire wing is devoted to a priest-doctor who tirelessly treated the poor often at his own expense, icon to the stark contrasts with Jesuit extravagance. Joseph Moscati (1890-1927, sainted 1987) cared tirelessly for the helpless and the poor. He found them waiting for him on his doorstep when he came home for lunch, when he wasn't treating them in his cabinet. A prayer on the wall of Gesu Nuova reads:

Dear Saint, ... who always took care of both the body and soul of every patient,

Look on us, who have recourse to your heavenly intercession... a share in the dispensation of heavenly favours....

Ex-votos, il Cabineto Segreti

Good luck phallus from Pompeii

In Roman times, ex-votos were more vivid, as the piles of clay genitals displayed in the il Cabineto Segreti of the Pompeii collection reminds us. These were offerings to beg for healing, or in gratitude for an affliction cured. Also in this interesting collection are bronzes of huge male organs for good luck and protection from the evil eye--the malocchio. On the streets of Naples, countless chocolate male organs are sold for the same purpose.

Priapic phallus for good luck

Another very Neapolitan belief is in the smorfia, an ancient collection of dream symbols which interprets them as numbers that people use to play the lottery. It is still widely referred to, in fact people know parts of it by heart: if you dream of an insane person, bet on #22, if you dream of Naples or God, bet on #1, and so on. It has been traced back to the Greeks' interpretations of dreams, oneirocriticism, and has only been in published form since the Middle Ages. It is also said to be connected with the Kabbalah.

Household gods of Pompeii

As mentioned in my blog on Pompeii, household gods still command Neapolitan respect. The monacello, based on the Greco-Roman Larares, merit their own little plaques in the kitchen. I too dreamt of the little boy in a white tunic quite a few times in Naples, even before knowing who he was.

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Cloister of San Gregorio Armenio

At the convent of San Gregorio Armenio, a line of street people stands at the frescoed door, waiting for the pastries the round little nuns are known for. We went in with a class of giggling teens to the delightful cloister of orange trees under Baroque arches, a life-size Christ and the Samaritan woman. Below, through a grate, we glimpsed, between teenagers, the elaborate chapel that seemed like another dimension, with its geometric trompe l'oeil floor. Amidst the baking smells we exited to go around the crammed block to see it in its full Baroque ornamentation. The guidebook pointed out the symbolism of the order of San Gregorio: beheadings, blood, etc. But what struck me was the assimilation of Mary to a pagan cow goddess. Paintings everywhere featured crescent moons on their backs, with the horns pointing upward like cow horns. But most surprising, Mary on the altar painting wore the yoke of an ox on her shoulders!

San Gregorio Armenio

 Sacred and profane are the long Neapolitan traditions, to ward off ill fortune!