Our last hours in Napoli (pop 908,082 in 2025) and we wake to some decent weather, but the weather app says it will not last. Leaving our bags at the hotel, we return to the Piazza del Gesù Nuovo. The morning sun on the Guglia dell'Immacolata (above, Giuseppe Genoino, 17th-18th centuries) is spectacular.
We are taking the advice of the Tour Director from our tour of Puglia – asked about sights to see, he mentioned just one place, the Cappella Sansevero (late 16th century) and its eighteenth-century sculpture. We reserved tickets for 8:45 this morning; when we arrived, we tried to reserve tickets, but they were sold out on Monday, and the Museo is closed on Tuesdays. That leaves a tiny window before our flight home.
The Cappella is the product of efforts organized and executed in the mid-eighteenth century by Raimondo di Sangro, the seventh Principe di Sansevero, a scientist, inventor, and writer; the Cappella was founded in about 1590 by Giovan Francesco di Sangro, the first Principe. Unfortunately, photography is prohibited, so all our images are from Museo Cappella Sansevero.
The Cappella is between grand and intimate, and there are dozens of live-sized statues. The space is dressed in veined, honey-colored stone and trimmed in white. There are four shallow, arched chapels on each side and an altar space at the far (north) end. The capitals resemble Corinthian and Tuscan, an unusual combination, but the architecture is secondary. The ceiling is ablaze with tromp-l'œil vaults, grisaille reliefs, and a flurry of angels. But the centerpiece is the "Cristo Velato" ('veiled Christ', 1753) by Giuseppe Sanmartino: the body of Christ under a 'transparent' sheet.
L'altare maggiore holds the "Deposizione" (Francesco Celebrano, 1762-68), a relief panel that fills the archway. Above, in an elliptical gold wreath, surrounded by angels and rays of holy light, is "La Pietatella" (unknown artist, 16th century), the 'miraculous' icon that sparked the creation of the chapel.
The other statues comprise an allegorical cycle, with dedications to various members of the Sansevero family and lineage. The first two closest to the entrance are "Amor Divino" (attr Michelangelo Naccherino, c1609-15; Francesco Queirolo, c1755) and "Decoro" (Antonio Corradini, 1751-52), a pair of male figures in shallow niches. "Amor Divino" extends a hand with the Sacred Heart, while "Decoro" is wrapped in the skin of a lion.
SIC FLORET DECORO DECUS[thus beauty blooms with grace]
[images from Museo Cappella Sansevero]
Many of our timed group is gathered around the "Cristo", so we hang back. We use the inital full bay to our left (west) as a 'sampler'. Under the arch is the "Monumento a Giovan Francesco di Sangro" (attr Giacomo Lazzari, early 17th century), the tomb of the first Principe di Sansevero; he wears his armor and a ruffled collar.
The Monumento is flanked by two allegorical firgures. "Liberalità" (Queirolo, 1753-54) stands on the left, with an eagle and a cornucopia of money and jewels; a portrait and dedication to Giulia Gaetani d'Aragona (wife of the 4th prince) is in the roundel above. "Zelo della Religione" (attr Fortunato Onelli & Celebrano et al, c1767) is on the right and shows a figure to the side hold a lamp while snakes slither between the pages of the books at his feet; the dedication is incorporated into the piece, with the portraits of the two wives of Giovan Francesco held by putti.
[images from Museo Cappella Sansevero]
The next figure is "Soavità del Giogo Coniugale" (Paolo Persico, 1768), a pregnant figure holding two hearts and a feathered 'yoke', with a putto holding a pelican chick on the base, thus symbolizing love, obedience, and sacrifice.
The last figure on the west side is "Pudicizia" ('modesty', Corradini, 1752), a thinly veiled female nude with a swag of roses. A tour de force in carving skill, the figure also holds a broken corner of a large tablet or tombstone. The work is dedicated to Cecilia Gaetani dell'Aquila d'Aragona, Raimondo di Sangro's mother who died soon after giving birth:
Eternal peace to Cecilia Gaetani dell'Aquila d'Aragona … celebrated for her social graces, manners, intellect, charity, devotion, and loyalty which were outstanding enough to make her know as one of the most kind and chosen women of all times. She lived to be 20 years old and died on December 26, 1710. Her son, Raimondo de Sangro Prince of Sansevero, raised this monument in honor of his unequalled mother so that she would always be remembered for her exception virtues. (Fazio Macci, "Chapel of Sansevero Museum", trans Kishori Koch, Alfa Grafica, 2016)
The text of the tablet makes room for more sculpture in the base: "Noli Me Tangere" depicts the scene of the resurrected Christ and Mary Magdalene and broken tree refers to the young mother's death. The work reminds us of the "Veritas" ('truth', Raffaelle Monti, 1853) at the Casa-Museu Medeiros e Almeida in Lisboa.
[images from Museo Cappella Sansevero]
We turn from the side chapels to take a close look at the "Cristo Velato". The artistic magic lies not only in the rendering of the sheer fabric, but in the way the subject's expression comes through the cloth, and the anatomy and skeletal structure is tangible below the cloth and the skin. And it's not only the veil, but the softness of the pillows, the tensions of the bedding, the details in the darker carpet of the platform. The inclusion of the crown of thorns, pliers, and nails goes way beyond showing off.
Contrasting the "Cristo Velato" with its neighbor, the "Pudicizia", connects life and death, with the subtext ("Noli Me Tangere") foretelling the Resurrection. This is Christ lying in state.
We remember the performance of "Trapassati" (Mauro Maurizio Palumbo) with the dancer creating expressions under fabric during yesterday's visit to the Chiesa del Purgatorio ad Arco (di Santa Maria delle Anime, 17th century). We are also convinced that the sculptors must have draped their models with wet sheets – in any case the results are stunning.
[images from Museo Cappella Sansevero]
We complete the tour of allegorical sculptures on the eastern side. "Disinganno" ('disenchantment', Queirolo, 1753-54) counterpoints the "Pudicizia" on the other side of the altare, and is dedicated to Antonio di Sangro, Duca di Torremaggiore, Raimondo's father. Here, an angel works to free a man caught in a thick net, freeing his father from his grief. A relief of "Gesù che Dona la Vista al Cieco" ('Christ and the blind man') is in the base, again as a response to the "Noli Me Tangere", the miracle of healing. A book is open with to following verses:
- VINCULA TUA DISRUMPAM / NAHUM CAP. I, VERS. XIII
- VINCULA TENEBRARUM ET LONGÆ NOCTIS QUIBUS ES COMPEDITUS / SAPIENTIÆ CAP. XXII, VERS. II
- UT NON CUM HOC MUNDO DAMNERIS. / PAUL'I. AD CORIN. CAP. XI, VERS. XXXII.
["I will burst thy bonds asunder / those bonds of darkness and long night with which you are fettered / so that you will not be condemned with this world."] (Wikipedia)
The sculptural virtuosity is in the intricate netting, cut from a single block of marble. This trio, Corradini's "Pudicizia", Sanmartino's "Cristo Velato", and Queirolo 's "Disinganno", gives each artist a moment to shine – goodness, do they shine. But arranged as a group by Raimondo di Sangro, the relationships between the three tell a powerful, personal story and reflect a son's honor for his parents and his faith.
Raimondo celebrates his wife in the next piece, "Sincerità" (Queirolo, 1754-55). This figures plays with the "Soavità del Giogo Coniugale" opposite' she holds a single heart and a caduceus, and the putto plays with two turtle doves versus the pelican chick.
[images from Museo Cappella Sansevero]
The "Domino di Sé Stessi" ('self-domain', Celebrano, 1767) incorporates the portrait relief of Girolama Lofreddo (Raimondo's paternal grandmaother), again like the "Zelo della Religione" on the other side. Instead of serpents and texts, here we have a lion in chains.
Finally, "Educazione" (Queirolo, 1753) presents a woman teaching a young boy, with the inscription: "EDUCATIO ET DISCIPLINA MORES FACIUNT" ('education and discipline form good morals'); the boy holds "De Officiis" by Cicerone, a text explaining moral duties.
[images from Museo Cappella Sansevero]
The ceiling 'volta' is covered with the "Gloria del Paradiso" (Francesco Maria Russo, 1749). Rather than tying the chapel together, the colors and dynamism are so 'over the top', it borders on distraction. Angels break through an opening in the roof, as the Holy Spirit shines towards l'altare maggiore and the "Cristo Velato", with the Latin text: "MATER PIETATIS" ('mother of piety').
We exit from the 'cavea sotterranea' and stop to wonder at the "Macchine Anatomiche" (Giuseppe Salerno, 1756-64), another of Raimondo's projects. The couple may be more macabre than the sights in the Chiesa del Purgatorio, skeletons covered with silk and wax to model the circulatory system.
The visit takes less time than we anticipated, undoubtedly because our iPhones are in our pockets. Out of the gift shop door, we hear and see the steady rain is back. We make our way quickly to the Monastero di Santa Chiara (14th-17th centiries). One thing we don't want to do is board a plane soaking wet, but we also don't want to miss our chances to see new things.
We pay for entry and head for the bathrooms near the gift shop to towel-off. And the Monastero doesn't disappoint, especially the 'Chiostro Maiolicato' (Domenico Antonio Vacaro, 1739-42). Strangely, the sun is out while the rain pours down. The verdant garden flashes through the refracted haze; the tiled curbs and columns pick up and multiply those colors. Thus, the Chiostro feels less contemplative, and more celebratory.
A wide stair leads from the Chiostro to the 'Coro delle Monache' (nun's choir). At the landing we can see into the 'Sala con Affreschi Cinquecenteschi' (1500's fresco room). Though the Sala is not open to the public, we can readily see the "Giudizio Universale" on the wall to the left. The history of the Monastero includes a visit from Giotto, who painted "Storie del Vecchio Testamento" and "L'Apocalisse" (1328-33) in the Coro, but they were destroyed during the bombings of WWII – perhaps these frescos are an attempt to recreate, at least in spirit, those lost.
We step down to the peristyle and continue towards the Museo dell'Opera. The "Storie Francescane" frescos on and walls carry messages of Franciscan devotion, followed by the 'Monache Clarisse'.
After a closer look at the tiles on the curbs, we may also to read a story of Napoli and Vesuvio, tying the nuns' devotional practice and the nervous reality of this city.
Museo dell'Opera showcases more remnants and remains from the WWII bombing of the church. Because of this, the exhibits are all in pieces, rather than full artworks. Still, they are fascinating, and the presentations attempt to connect the pieces, with their layout and with photos.
For example, the Sala dei Marmi structures these fragments on panels or in frames that show this incomplete nature.
The pieces in the Sala dei Reliquiari survive intact but have lost their context. But the objects are varied and beautiful: the silver bust of "San Bartolomeo Apostolo" (Francesco Leone, 1470), a procession of polychrome busts (including "Ecce Homo" sculpted by Giovanni da Nola in 1520 and "San Giovanni Dolente" attributed to Giovanni Bertini from the first half of the 14th century), and the processional drape of "Santa Chiara" (17th century).
We finish the circuit of the Chiostro as the weather calms. The taller windows along the southern arcade create spaces for individualized saints, which are conveniently labeled and accompanied by angels in the upper register.
A few visitors venture out among the tiled posts, but the western viale, the longest of the four, is closed for renovation.
The 'Chiostro Maiolicato' escaped the damage from WWII and consists of long benches with 'arched' backs between octagonal columns. The columns are wrapped with spiraling garlands of grapes, lemons, and sunflowers.
The scenes depicted in the seatbacks include seascapes, vignettes of village life, and allegorical illustrations – in blue and golds, and touched with greens and browns.
Tucked in to the northeastern corner is a room with the "Presepe" (18th century), much larger than anything from yesterday's walk along 'La Via dei Presepi'. The Bambino Gesù is under a stone arch next to Maria at the top of a sharp hill. Angels sit on the columns and ruined walls, with the Stella di Betlemme centered in the archway.
The Magi are on the hill to the left in crimson robes. Villagers and livestock, including a camel (?) fill the lower portion of the Presepe. An 'urban' area is to the left of the scene, with townsfolk watching the miraculous birth from their balconies.
Because the Basilica di Santa Chiara (1313-40) was rebuilt in 1953, the interior is very plain for a Gothic church. But there are moments of color and and expression, like the Museo, a church reassembled from parts. The church has its own Presepe under glass near the entrance.
The 'rebuilt' character of the chapels is exemplified by the Altare Maggiore. Behind the "Crocifisso Ligneo", the altarpiece appears to be pile of Gothic architectural elements and carvings: a pointed arch with damaged and broken columns, the figure of Roberto d'Angiò ("ROBERTUM REGEM"), a mourning scene of the "Pietà", a Gothic arcade with saints, large tombs on either side, and a lacey Gothic altar table.
We make one last stop at the Chiesa del Gesù Nuovo (15th-18th centuries). Yesterday's visit with such bad light demands a quick revisit. We are struck by the contrast between the structural components and the warm tones of the decorative vaulting – everything is just so vibrant.
We return to the eastern lateral Cappella del Sacro Cuore di Gesù, now unoccupied, to get a better look at the dome and the "Sacrificio di Aronne" (Gaetano D'Apuzzo, 1790)' we're disappointed to see how much water damage has affected the fresco. Exiting, we also get another look a the "Cacciata di Eliodoro dal Tempio" (Francesco Solimena, 1725), and that looks like a whole other painting.
We owe Napoli another visit; the weather fenced us into a tiny area in the historic center We simply don't have a fair or complete impression of the city – though what we saw was fun and amazing. We look forward to it (plus there's pizza).
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