The Neapolitan saying Vedi Napoli e poi muori, or "See Naples and die," was coined during the eighteenth century, when the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies was a popular destination on the Grand Tour. This cultural excursion to Europe's principle cities, a conventional undertaking by Northern Europe's well to do as part of their education, was considered incomplete if Naples wasn't included. The expression, often attributed to the German writer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832), is not as ominous as it may first appear. It quite simply means: After visiting Naples one can die content, having seen everything worth seeing in life. Considering the opulence and prestige of eighteenth and nineteenth century Naples this was no idle boast."Hell, you call it?" asked Don Quixote. "Call it by no such name, for it does not deserve it, as you shall soon see." ~ Miguel de Cervantes
Faust, etching by Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn
Naples was Europe's third largest city, behind only Paris and London. It was a major center for Baroque art and architecture, as well as music. In 1735 HRH King Charles of Bourbon established the first university chair of astronomy in Naples. In 1748 full-scale excavations of Pompeii and Herculaneum were begun. On September 27th, 1818 its arsenal launched the Real Ferdinando I, the first steamship of the Mediterranean. In 1819 HRM King Ferdinand I founded the Astronomical Observatory (Osservatorio Astronomico di Capodimonte). It was the first scientific center of its kind in Europe. The Naples-Portici railroad, built in 1839, was the first on the continent. Naples was by far Italy's most industrial and affluent state. Over the years countless writers, artists, musicians and scientists from across Europe made the pilgrimage to the "picturesque" South and partook in her many splendors. It truly was Naples' Golden Age.
Admittedly, this was not always the case. Under the Spanish viceroyalty (1504-1703) the local superstitions and religious peculiarities of the lazzaroni (Naples' lumpen-proletariat) offended Spanish Catholic sensibilities, which gave rise to the Inquisition and the Jesuits' "civilizing mission." This, of course, led to another famous saying about the South: A paradise inhabited by devils. However, this "interregnum" period was preceded by centuries of rule, sometimes good and sometimes bad, by the Aragonese, Angevins, Hohenstaufen and, of course, the Altavilla, under whose dominion the Regno has been called, "The Kingdom par excellence." Going back further still, the Romans called the region Campania Felix, or happy land, for its great fecundity.
Sadly, those days are long gone. The city's popularity began to wane during Napoleon's rampage across Europe. The Piedmontese invasion in 1860 sealed its fate. Following the conquest and annexation into the Kingdom of Italy the once-proud capital was relegated to a provincial backwater, robbed of its wealth and prominence. Add to this the mass bombings by the Allies during WWII and the sabotage by the retreating Germans. The impoverished city has yet to recover from these devastations.
Today, Naples has a poor reputation. Unemployment and crime are high. It is often skipped by tourists, who (if they bother visiting Campania at all) usually visit Sorrento, Capri, Pompeii or the Amalfi Coast, instead. A new popular saying, Va fa Napoli, has replaced Goethe's. It literally translates into "go to Naples," but figuratively means "go to hell."
I'll never forget my first visit to Naples. It felt as though I returned home after a very long journey. If Carl Jung's theories about "racial memories" or "collective unconscious" are correct, over two thousand years of history is coursing through my veins, and this was never more heightened than when I was in the Siren City.
"Blood is a juice with curious properties," wrote Goethe (Faust). Everything, from the burial of spurned Parthenope at Megaride to the destruction of the Ostrogoths on the crags of Mons Lactarius near Mt. Vesuvius; the death of Romulus Augustus, the last Western Roman Emperor, to the ascension of Charles of Bourbon; the joyous return from the Battle of Lepanto to the sad departing of my ancestors on a steamship destined to New York Harbor, are all part of who I am.
If we are to remain a distinct people it's vital that we strengthen the bonds to our ancestral homeland and to our past. We must reject the scourge of rootless individualism that has reached grotesque proportions and return to the idea of an organic community. In other words, be a nation and a people in the true sense of these words. Only by retaining our historical memory will we be able to forge our own destiny.
An excellent way for the diaspora community to bolster our identity is by visiting "the old-country" and experiencing the people and culture firsthand. Obviously, a short vacation doesn't make someone an expert (there is, after all, more to Naples than 'O Sole Mio and pizza) but like the Grand Tour of old, this will help us to reconnect with our unique patrimony. It will allow us to participate, albeit in a minor role, in Parthenope's grand narrative.
I understand that holidays to Europe are expensive and not always feasible, but if we cannot go there at the very least we can still support individuals and institutions that promote positive cultural initiatives here. There are countless things we can do. First and foremost, take the time to teach the younger generations. Read Giambattista Basile's fairy tales to your children; listen to the overtures of Domenico Cimarosa and classical guitar compositions of Ferdinando Carulli; attend lectures about the philosophy of Giambattista Vico or poetry readings featuring the prose of Salvatore Di Giacomo; visit museums exhibiting the works of Vincenzo Gemito, Salvator Rosa, or the antiquities of Magna Graecia; study our native tongues (Neapolitan, Sicilian, et al.). It will instill pride and a true identity.
I've been to "Hell," and like untold others I returned with a fire in my belly and a passion for all things Neapolitan.
~ Giovanni di Napoli, August 6th, Feast of the Transfiguration of Our Lord
* Updated Sunday October 8, 2023
