NAPLES, A MOMENT OF NOSTALGIA
Countless are the visitors who have arrived in Naples in recent years firmly convinced that, in the Neapolitan city, it is impossible to spend even a single moment without bumping into tourists who have disembarked from Sweden or China! Romanian Secants Series, Adrian Irvin Rozei.
It is true that, in a city visited every year by hundreds of thousands of people, it is not easy to find places where the city’s authentic life has survived! This is certainly the case if one remains within the boundaries indicated by tourist guides under the heading of the “must-see sights of Naples”. Yet, if one has the courage and, above all, the determination to leave the “beaten track”, one can discover remarkable places that remain largely unknown to the hurried visitor.
For example, if you turn the corner, only a few metres from Piazza del Plebiscito, where the Royal Palace and the Teatro di San Carlo stand, you suddenly find yourself on a street with what might seem a predestined name: Via Solitaria. One more step and there it is: Via Monte di Dio! Here, the general atmosphere is entirely different from that of the “Spanish Quarter”, where tourist restaurants, clothing shops and fashionable jewellers follow one another in an unbroken chain.
Along Via Monte di Dio, one encounters nothing but imposing palazzi, their severe façades built of stone darkened by the passage of time. More often than not, heavy wooden gates prevent access to inner courtyards, where one might glimpse tropical gardens, with palm trees and tall shrubs concealing the residents’ activities from their neighbours and protecting the privacy of those occupying the various apartments. Yet at number 14, one can see countless young people coming and going—cheerful, energetic and smiling. They are visitors to the “Istituto Italiano per gli Studi Filosofici”, an internationally renowned and highly active cultural centre that periodically organises conferences, meetings and debates on philosophical themes. The institute also possesses an immense library containing volumes collected over half a century by Gerardo Marotta (Naples, 1927–Naples, 2017), the celebrated Italian lawyer, writer and philosopher who founded the institute in 1975. Throughout his career, Marotta received numerous awards and honorary doctorates, including one from the University of Bucharest in 2000.
Yet Palazzo Serra di Cassano possesses a centuries-old tradition, concealing memories of historical episodes that were secret or dramatic, and remain little known to the general public. The building was constructed in the first half of the eighteenth century by Ferdinando Sanfelice (1675–1748, Naples), a remarkable architect who became renowned for the spectacular works he created in the capital of the “Kingdom of Naples”, which, in the following century, would become the “Kingdom of the Two Sicilies” under Bourbon rule. In the case of the Serra Palace, the architect distinguished himself through the construction of a monumental staircase leading to the piano nobile. The façade facing Via Monte di Dio is equally imposing, thanks to a “colossal order” extending over two levels in the Corinthian style, framed by tympanum windows and characteristic Neapolitan arched balconies made of piperno. Yet the palace’s true principal entrance was on Via Egiziaca, directly opposite the Royal Palace. It was bricked up almost 220 years ago! As an Italian chronicler put it: “Quel portone chiuso urla ancora giustizia!” (“That closed gate still cries out for justice!”)
The Parthenopean Republic
In 1799, the city of Naples experienced a revolutionary episode that entered history under the name of the “Neapolitan Republic”, or, more precisely, the “Parthenopean Republic”. The name derives from the legendary siren Parthenope (in Ancient Greek, Παρθενόπης / Parthenópēs, “the maiden-faced one”). According to an ancient legend, Parthenope was buried beneath a slab of stone, above which the city of Naples was built. For this reason, its inhabitants are known as “Parthenopeans”, and the short-lived republic of the eighteenth century adopted the same name.
The “Parthenopean Republic” lasted less than six months, from 21 January to 24 June 1799. Faced with the victorious advance of the French army commanded by General Championnet, the Bourbon king Ferdinand IV fled his capital aboard a British vessel bound for Palermo. Intellectuals and ordinary citizens, inspired by the principles of the French Revolution, then proclaimed the republic. Although its existence was extremely brief, it left an enduring mark because it introduced administrative and social-justice measures that were revolutionary for their time. However, King Ferdinand IV, who returned to the city with the assistance of British troops*, broke his commitments and unleashed a ruthless repression against the republicans. Among those executed was Gennaro Serra, the son of the owner of the aforementioned palace, who was beheaded in Piazza Mercato on 20 August 1799, despite the persistent appeals made by Prince Serra.
As an act of protest, the prince had the palace’s principal entrance, which faced the royal residence, bricked up, and it has remained that way ever since. One detail, perhaps of little significance, nevertheless caught my attention in the dramatic history of the “Parthenopean Republic”: its flag. Following the model of the French flag, the revolutionaries chose a tricolour. However, they replaced the white of the French flag, which reminded them of the Bourbons, with yellow, while the dark French blue was replaced by a lighter shade of blue. The result was… the flag of present-day Romania**, even though Romania did not yet exist at the time! In any case, the tricolour of the “Parthenopean Republic” can still be purchased online today, for the modest sum of €6.95! (Naples, November 2018)
* Film enthusiasts of a certain age may still remember the 1941 film 'That Hamilton Woman', starring Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh, which was a major success on Romanian cinema screens in the late 1950s. The film presents this episode of Italian history in a romanticised manner. Yet it had been conceived from the outset as an allusion to the political situation in Europe at the time it was made. The authorities in Bucharest failed to notice that “history was repeating itself” and that the same scenario might have been interpreted, with different protagonists, during the 1950s!
** Although the colours of national flags are generally defined by law, the variations in practice—and even the dimensions of the individual stripes—can be so considerable that sometimes only vexillologists are capable of distinguishing between them! In Romania’s case, these variations even gave rise, not so long ago, to an international dispute, which was ultimately resolved… within the framework of the United Nations.
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