August 12, 2025

Monarchist by Conviction, Anarch by Necessity

Whenever we meet someone for the first time, the same questions tend to come up. For new readers online, I’ll try to answer the ones that truly matter, as clearly and simply as I can.

I was under the impression that you were a monarchist, so why did you describe yourself as an anarch? What exactly do you mean by ‘anarch’?

The special trait making me an anarch is that I live in a world which I "ultimately" do not take seriously. This increases my freedom; I serve as a temporary volunteer. ~ Eumeswil, Ernst Jünger

A monarchist by conviction, I am an anarch by necessity. That is to say, I hold, by reason and by faith, that monarchy is the political form most aligned with human nature, tradition, and the sacred. I see hierarchy not as oppression but as order, and in the person of the king as a symbolic center around which a people become a nation. My conviction is not nostalgic, but metaphysical, rooted in the belief that authority, rightly understood, flows from above.

Yet I live in a world that has cast down its thrones, mistaking liberty for license, and order for tyranny. It is an age of managed illusions, algorithms, mass man, interchangeable leaders, and rootless citizens. In such a world, to act politically is to shout into the wind.

So I do not join parties, nor do I deign to vote. Instead, I follow the path of the anarch, an ideal I aspire to, inspired by the vision laid out by the great German writer, philosopher, and soldier Ernst Jünger (1895-1998).

Introduced in Jünger’s 1977 novel Eumeswil, the anarch is a sovereign individual—someone who is internally free, indifferent to regimes, yet capable of navigating or even serving within them. He is inwardly detached, self-mastered, and apolitical. His kingdom is not of this world, although he moves through it with awareness and precision.


Despite the similarity in terms, the difference between Jünger’s anarch and the anarchist is profound.


An anarchist is a political activist who aims to eliminate all forms of external authority, particularly the state. Typically, an anarchist is an activist, often militant or revolutionary, defined by opposition to hierarchy and centralized power. The anarchist dreams of replacing the existing order with a radically decentralized or stateless society through protest, agitation, or even violence. His struggle is external, ideological, and collective.


The anarch, by contrast, is not a bomb-thrower; he observes power rather than acts against it. He may work within a regime without losing his spiritual integrity. He adopts roles without identifying with them. He prefers inner detachment over outward rebellion. He is “in the world, but not of it.” Grounded in self-sovereignty, discipline, and inner freedom, the anarch possesses a near monastic metaphysical reserve. He is not a revolutionary but something more radical—a man who transcends politics.


Related, but distinct, is Jünger’s earlier figure of the forest fleer (Waldgänger), introduced in his 1951 essay Der Waldgang (The Forest Passage). Both the anarch and the forest fleer are symbols of resistance and inner freedom, but they differ in context, attitude, and spiritual focus.


The forest fleer is the man who withdraws from a totalitarian or mass society, not in defeat, but in defiance. He “flees to the forest” symbolically. The forest symbolizes a realm beyond the grasp of the state, a mythic and existential space of freedom and moral courage. He is the one who says “No” when all others submit. Not primarily an outlaw or political agitator, he is a free man who accepts solitude, risk, and responsibility.


In Jünger’s view, the forest is the antithesis of the administered world. It evokes the ancient Teutonic hero who retreats into the woods when society becomes unjust, the Christian hermit who flees to the desert to preserve truth, and the idea that even under complete control, one free man remains ungovernable.


The anarch, by contrast, need not flee because he carries the forest within. He may (like Martin Venator in Eumeswil) serve a tyrant, live under surveillance, or work as a historian, yet he never spiritually submits. His resistance is not overt but rooted in his very being. The anarch is not a revolutionary; he is more radical. He does not challenge the state directly but questions the world itself.


In short, the forest fleer is a man of action amid the ruins, like an underground fighter or partisan. The anarch is a sovereign being after the collapse, a metaphysical exile living outside the political and historical current. One fights for freedom; the other embodies freedom.


~ By Giovanni di Napoli, August 11th, Feast of Santa Filomena

Our Lady’s Dowry: Marian Music from Mediæval England

A rich artistic culture flourished in Mediæval England, which was marked by an intense piety that belied the political instability of the age. English music was renowned on the Continent for its refinement and characteristic ‘sweetness’.

Lady Margaret Beaufort – mother of Henry VII and grandmother of Henry VIII – was instrumental in securing the crown for the Tudor dynasty at the conclusion of the Wars of the Roses. Despite her political manœuverings, she was famous for her religious devotion and was an important patroness of the arts.

On Sunday, August 24, Musica Transalpina presents a program of music from early Tudor England, featuring the Missa O bone Jhesu by Robert Fayrfax, which was commissioned by Lady Margaret. This mass survives in three choirbooks compiled around 1515, 1520, and 1525, but this mass setting would have to predate Lady Margaret’s death in 1509. A closer look at her treasurer’s payment records indicates that she paid Fayrfax 6 shillings and 8 pence for a new mass on August 11, 1507, positively dating this composition to that year.

Join Musica Transalpina as we present works by Fayrfax, Tye, and Byrd on Saturday, August 23, and Sunday, August 24, 2025.

Saturday, August 23, 2025 at 7.30 P. M.

Sierra Madre Playhouse
87 W Sierra Madre Blvd,
Sierra Madre, CA 91024

Sunday, August 24, 2025 at 3.30 P. M.

St. Mark’s Presbyterian Church
2200 San Joaquin Hills Road
Newport Beach, CA 92660

August 11, 2025

Paris: Where History, Art, and Romance Flow Together in the Cultural Heart of Europe (Part 1)

See Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

To stroll through Paris is to wander in the cultural heart of Europe, where every boulevard and narrow cobbled street seems steeped in centuries of artistry, thought, and romance. Here, Gothic spires rise above the Seine, the light of the old masters dances across museum walls, and café terraces hum with the timeless ritual of conversation over coffee and wine. The city is a tapestry of the monumental and the intimate—majestic landmarks like the Louvre and Notre-Dame stand alongside hidden bookshops, flower markets, and sunlit gardens. More than a destination, Paris is an experience of culture in its purest form, a place where history and modernity converse with effortless elegance. Many thanks to my friend for sharing the beautiful photos of his recent trip, which brought this vision of Paris vividly to life.

Tenth Sunday After Pentecost at St. Michael's Church in Staten Island, New York

August 10, 2025

Remembering Antonio Molle Lazo, Carlist Martyr

"I will suffer the greatest torments rather than apostatize from my God."
Today we remember the martyrdom of Antonio Molle Lazo (b. 2 April 1915 — d. 10 August 1936), a young Requeté who was captured, tortured, and brutally murdered while trying to protect the nuns at the convent of the Hermanitas de la Cruz (Little Sisters of the Cross) in Peñaflor, Seville, from Republican militiamen during the Spanish Civil War. His dying words were ¡Viva Cristo Rey!

Final Preparations Complete for the 136th Annual Feast of San Rocco di Potenza in Little Italy, New York

San Rocco, ora pro nobis
As the 136th Annual Feast of San Rocco di Potenza approaches, members of the Society gathered Thursday evening at the historic Shrine Church of the Most Precious Blood (113 Baxter Street) in Little Italy, New York, to finalize preparations. The miraculous papier-mâché statue of San Rocco was placed on the Guariglia side altar against a vibrant scarlet backdrop, while fresh flowers were arranged before both the high altar and the saint’s image.
Mass will be celebrated at 11:30 A.M. on Sunday, August 17th, followed by a solemn procession carrying the statue and a first-class relic of San Rocco. The streets of Little Italy and Chinatown will echo with the music of Danny Vecchiano and the Giglio Band as the faithful accompany the saint.


Religious articles and raffle tickets will be available for purchase outside the church.

We look forward to celebrating with you. Viva San Rocco!

Photo of the Week: La Fontana dei Tre Delfini, Reggia di Caserta, CE

Photo by Andrew Giordano

Feast of the Assumption at Corpus Christi Church in South River, New Jersey

August 9, 2025

Amongst the Normies

Surrounded by “normies”—that is to say, Democrats and Republicans—I’m subjected to some of the most asinine debates imaginable. Ever since The Donald’s imperious return to power, two of them in particular have been at each other’s throats almost constantly. Even when I tell them to “get a room,” it only shuts them up for a New York minute—if that.

They learned long ago not to expect me to take a side in their petty squabbles, but that hasn’t stopped them from trying, time and again. No matter how many times I insist I’m neither a Democrat nor a Republican, they keep lobbing party-line talking points at me like I’m some kind of swing vote.

Poster children for democracy, they are uninformed, emotional, and utterly hypocritical. He is young and dumb—the kind of overconfident dimwit you’d hate to have arguing on your side. She is a glib, elitist snob, without a trace of virtue or self-awareness. Like all ideologues, they both parrot some of the most cringeworthy things I've ever heard.

Examples?


He made a complete 180 on the Epstein client list—now swallowing the DOJ’s dubious claim that its investigation turned up nothing.

He also believes the wild conspiracy theory that Michelle Obama is a man.

Equally deluded, she staunchly maintains—with smug certainty—that the former First Lady is, in fact, a woman.

She also openly supports the accused CEO-killer Luigi Mangione—not because she thinks he's innocent, but because he did it! (So much for due process when it's her cause.)

They are so politically stunted, so narrow-minded and ensconced in their liberal-bourgeois Weltanschauung, that they think I’m joking when I tell them that I’m a Monarchist. The idea that someone could exist outside their corrupt two-party system—let alone a counter-revolutionary, arch-reactionary traditionalist—simply does not compute.

Once, I foolishly tried to explain that I am an Anarch—as Ernst Jünger envisioned it (a sovereign individual who remains inwardly free and aloof from the state). They, of course, thought I meant anarchist, which, as we all should know, is the very antithesis—the antipode—of the Anarch. More on that at a later date.

Needless to say, I wasn’t the least bit surprised when, upon realizing I wouldn’t take either side, they called me a “socialist” and a “fascist,” respectively. Slander is their shared tongue. For all their bickering, moral panic, and historical illiteracy, they are two sides of the same coin—and speak the same language.

So I nod, smile, and get on with my day. Let them fight over the helm of a sinking ship. For my part, I will focus on self-mastery, inner detachment, and remain beholden to the throne of Heaven—that is, the transcendent authority of Christ the King—which, of course, makes me the most dangerous of all.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, August 8th, Feast of the Fourteen Holy Helpers

Announcing the 46th Annual St. Pio Festival at the National Blue Army Shrine of Our Lady of Fatima in Washington, New Jersey

August 8, 2025

Remembering Maria Teresa of Austria, Queen of the Two Sicilies

31 July, 1816 — 8 August, 1867
In memory of Maria Teresa of Austria, Queen of the Two Sicilies, we pray for the happy repose of her soul. Viva ‘a Reggina!

Eternal rest grant unto Her Majesty, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon her. May her soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

25th Anniversary Feast of the Assumption Solemn High Choral Mass at the Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

August 6, 2025

Ponderable Quote from “The Compleat Monarchist” by Charles A. Coulombe

In 1831, Charles Felix, last male member of the House of Savoy, kings of Sardinia, died. He was succeeded by his much-distrusted distant cousin, Charles Albert. Liberally inclined (as witnessed by his abandoning of the Maundy Thursday foot-washing ceremony), the new king schemed to depose all his brother monarchs on the Italian peninsula— including the pope — and establish a unified and centralised liberal monarchy. Because of his role in the 1848 rebellions, he was deposed and replaced by his son, Victor Emmanuel II. Assisted by his wily prime minister, Count Cavour, over the next eleven years, through a combination of warfare and diplomacy, Victor Emmanuel would succeed in driving the Austrian emperor from his Kingdom of Lombardy-Venetia, other branches of the Habsburgs from Tuscany and Modena, the Bourbons from Parma and the Two Sicilies, and Bl. Pope Pius IX from the Papal States (he withdrew into what is now the Vatican). When the smoke had cleared in 1870, Italy was united, centralised, and anticlerical. But the adherents of the deposed rulers were called Legitimists; for another decade, the supporters of the exiled Neapolitan Bourbons carried on guerilla warfare. Starting in 1860, thousands of young men came to fight for the pope in the Pontifical Zouaves, which became a sort of Legitimist Foreign Legion? After the final defeat in Rome, the Zouaves returned to their various homelands, spurring devotion to the Sacred Heart and Catholic Action wherever they had come from. One other result of the Risorgimento was the emigration of millions of Italians to the United States, Canada, Argentina, Australia, and elsewhere, in order to avoid both the heavy taxation and the conscription the new regime favoured.

* Reprinted from The Compleat Monarchist by Charles A. Coulombe, Os Justi Press, 2025, p. 211

Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary at the Shrine Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament in Raritan, NJ

August 5, 2025

New Book: The Suicide of the Revolution

A new title that may be of interest to our readers. Available at utpdistribution.com


The Suicide of the Revolution by Augusto Del Noce (translated by Carlo Lancellotti)

Publisher: McGill-Queen's University Press
Publication date: April 14, 2026
Hardcover: $125.00
Language: English
Pages: 368

Read description

Click here to see more books

Listing does not imply any endorsement

Feast of Our Lady of Knock at the Shrine Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament in Raritan, New Jersey

August 4, 2025

Photo of the Week: Gold "Augustalis" of Frederick II Hohenstaufen

Gold "Augustalis" of Frederick II Hohenstaufen (r. 1215-50)
Minted about 1230-50 in Messina, Sicily, Metropolitan Museum of Art
Photo by New York Scugnizzo

Feast of the Transfiguration at Corpus Christi Church in South River, New Jersey

August 3, 2025

"Astracum ad sole": The Description of Some Houses from the Neapolitan and Phlegraean Areas, from Medieval Documents (10th-14th century) — Part 2

By Regnum_Neapolitanum
x.com/1309Regnum

Read Part 1


For this period, we have access to a more voluminous quantity of documents, primarily from the aforementioned Cancelleria Angioina, from the episcopal archives, and (particularly for the Phlegraean Area) from various documents from the Benedictine Monastery of Montevergine. Unlike those from the ducal period, the documents from this era also provide us with significantly more useful sources for understanding the dwellings of urban areas.


The information we can glean from some sales documents from 14th-century Pozzuoli are quite intriguing. We know, for example, that houses in Angevin-era Pozzuoli could have had an oven (domus cum furno). This oven, logically, had to have its own chimney. From a document dated June 1339, we know, for example, that an agreement was reached between two residents of Pozzuoli. The first had an oven built against the wall of the second's house. The latter gave his consent to the construction, provided that the chimney was high enough to prevent smoke from entering his home. [33]


The houses could also be equipped with a cellar, perhaps used to store wine (cellarium, cellario parvo), or even a cistern for water (piscinalem, domus cum pissina), often built into the very foundations of the house.


Among the various expressions I came across, however, I found one that particularly struck me: astracum ad sole. This term is clearly the "medieval Latin ancestor" of a term still used today in Naples and surrounding areas to refer to the terrace of a building: astreco. More precisely, this expression comes from the ancient Greek ὄστρακον, ostrakon, meaning "potsherd,” "terracotta,” and is clearly a reference to the fact that these terraces were covered with tiles made of this material. The fact that these terraces are described in documents as ad sole (that is, "in the sun,” "exposed to the sun") suggests that they were used by the inhabitants of these houses primarily as a place to hang out freshly washed laundry to dry (as is often done even today). 


An important point concerns the fact that even city houses could very often be equipped with a garden (viridarium), or a cultivated vegetable garden (domus cum uno orticello).


This last detail is important: the urban centers of medieval Campania in fact almost always seem to be areas that today we would define as "low population density," with buildings frequently interspersed with gardens, small plots of cultivated land, or even, in some cases, empty land, on which, simply, nothing had yet been built.


This fact is clear from documents since the ducal era, such as when, for example, in May 997, a small vegetable garden is described located within the walls of the citadel of Pozzuoli, near a house (orticello qui antea casa fuit posita), bordered by a stone wall and a public alley. [34] Or, even more accurately, still within the walls of Pozzuoli, in July 1026, an empty plot of land with a cave (terra vacua nostra una cum gripta), bordering the home of a certain Sergio Boffa (et a parte mediana est coniuntum cum domum Sergii Boffa), and a public road (platea publica). [35]


A situation that is often found in documents from the Angevin era, such as in November 1317, when a certain priest Landolfo de Marzano sold Corrado de Costanza a vacant piece of land located outside the walls of the city of Pozzuoli [36] (extra menia seu muros dicte civitatis Putheoli) between the church of Saint Agnes (for the restoration of which the aforementioned Landolfo de Marzano was forced to sell the land) and some houses seu curtem (therefore perhaps they themselves were located around a further courtyard), belonging to the same de Costanza. [37]


Just as the modicae terulae, located in the urban centre of Pozzuoli, owned by the Cathedral of the same city, and ceded on 29 May 1318 to the judge Giacomo de Cioffis in order to build an ecclesia seu cappella dedicated to Saint James, [38] (still existing today, although unfortunately mutilated), [39] must have been empty.


On the contrary, the lands belonging to five houses located just outside the walls of Pozzuoli and equipped with shared vegetable gardens, sold by a certain Maria de Fusca to Raimondo Russo for the sum of 23 ounces of gold in December 1336, had to be cultivated. [40]


Similarly, the bishop's palace (palatium domini episcopi Putheolani) must also have been equipped with a garden. [41]


If we try to imagine the typical urban environment of a small town in this area during the Middle Ages (such as Pozzuoli), we can imagine it as a collection of small "districts" delimited by streets, consisting of a small number of houses, mostly facing the streets and therefore concentrated near the edges of these districts. The central area of these small districts (similar to a sort of courtyard between the various houses) would have housed gardens and small cultivated areas. Along the city streets, on the ground floors of buildings, there were also various workshops and stores, whose entrances were often covered by a shelter (pennata), designed to protect the entrance (and any outdoor stalls) from the elements.


The general skyline of the settlement must have been dominated by public buildings, such as, in the case of Pozzuoli, the aforementioned episcopal palace, the town hall, [42] and the Palatio Comitis, [43] the residence of the Count of Pozzuoli (certainly not a building of excessive proportions, in any case, and - of course - used for other purposes after the dissolution of the county and the creation of the municipality in May 1296). This was in addition, of course, to the various churches located throughout the city, some of which were parish churches, such as the one of Saint Maximus, documented as early as March 1288, [44] or the one of Saint Liborius, documented as early as October 1308. [45] Over these, the Cathedral of Saint Proculus [46] dominated with its tall bell tower, a structure with a history unto itself, and a discussion of which would greatly extend this article.


Also in the case of Pozzuoli, starting in the late 13th century, the rise of a wealthy urban class began to emerge more clearly, which, in some cases, ended up acquiring a status approaching that of the nobility. In these cases, families belonging to this class tended to enlarge their homes, effectively creating small palaces, probably always with a fairly sober overall appearance, but sometimes also featuring portals and windows discreetly decorated in the style of the period, [47] with coats of arms prominently displayed on the walls. [48]


Between the late 13th and early 14th centuries, Pozzuoli also experienced a strong expansion of the aforementioned thermal tourism, which, as mentioned, had never disappeared throughout the Middle Ages and, thanks to the interest of the first three Angevin rulers, would experience a strong revival. The area of Tripergole, a small settlement located about 3 km from Pozzuoli, near Lake Averno, where several thermal facilities were concentrated, was also particularly affected during this period. In this area, in particular, King Charles II of Anjou commissioned the construction, at his own expense, of a very large hospital with 120 beds for the poor who frequented the Pozzuoli baths between 1299 and 1307. [49]


The situation must not have been much different in the urban area of Naples itself, which, in those very years, having become a royal seat under King Charles I of Anjou, was on its way to becoming a major European metropolis. Aside from the obvious differences, due to a much larger population and different concentrations of residents, such as port traffic or the presence of commercial districts with workshops, stores, and markets, which could therefore give rise to neighborhoods with a higher-than-average population density, the Neapolitan urban landscape must have appeared - all things considered - quite similar to that of Pozzuoli.


As in Pozzuoli, Naples must also have had several homes belonging to wealthy urban citizens. Or, there were also homes belonging to families of the chivalric nobility, who, especially following the construction of the Maschio Angioino (originally built by Charles I between 1279 and 1282), wanted to be represented in the new neighborhood that arose around the great castle under construction, having highly respectable mansions built for them. Such as the one belonging to the Provençal Des Baux family, discovered by chance during construction work on the subway line in Piazza Municipio, and recently the subject of a very interesting archaeological excavation.


Furthermore, starting from the Angevin period, the presence of various public utility services in urban areas, such as aqueducts and sewers, is more clearly attested.


The presence of the aqueduct in Naples is documented throughout the Middle Ages. [50] Its general cleaning and restoration was ordered by King Charles I in 1268. From contemporary documents, we also know that the construction of an additional aqueduct was necessary during that period to supply the aforementioned area that was becoming urbanized around the Maschio Angioino.


When in November 1343 the entire Tyrrhenian area was shaken by a powerful earthquake (followed a few minutes later by a tsunami), the then elderly bishop of Pozzuoli, Paolino Veneto, [51] wrote a letter to the Regia Curia, describing the damage suffered by the city of Pozzuoli [52] and requesting that top priority be given to repairing the aqueduct that supplied the settlement, which had been damaged by the seismic event.


We also know more details about the sewers from this period onwards.

For example, through a document dated April 11, 1301, we know that King Charles II issued orders for the construction of new rainwater drainage channels and additional underground sewers for the city of Naples. At the same time, the king strictly prohibited the dumping of any type of garbage in the streets. Similar projects involving drainage channels date back to the time of Charles I, who in the 1270s ordered the construction of a drainage system to reclaim the area east of the walls of Naples, an area often swamped by the frequent flooding of the nearby Sebeto River.


In Naples, as in Pozzuoli, there were also several public baths and spas throughout the city, attested in the city at least since the 8th century, but whose use, exactly as in Pozzuoli, must have been present in the city continuously since ancient times.


During this period, several royal initiatives aimed at improving the city's road network were also known.


In 1279, for example, Charles I ordered the construction of a coastal road connecting the Beverello wharf area to the Chiatamone district, crossing the area of the current Santa Lucia district. His son Charles II, in July 1301, instead ordered the streets of Naples to be repaved with bricks specially produced in the cities of Gaeta and Maddaloni by specially trained workers (pingarii and tegularii). [53] Between 1305 and 1307, he also oversaw the construction of a new coastal road, the latter overlooking the stretch of the old city walls facing the sea, necessary to relieve congestion for goods transiting through the port of Naples during the construction of the new main pier. [54] Also in 1307, he oversaw the "extraurban" roads, commissioning the repair of the roads leading from Naples ad Casalem Planure, ad Sanctum Erasmum, Paturtium et Succavam, which had been dirute et rovinate ex tempestate aquarum. Similar measures would also be taken by his successor, Robert, who on June 15, 1317, ordered the repair of several Naples roads using flint quarried in Pozzuoli, Tripergole, and Quarto Flegreo. On 16 January 1339, however, there was a provision by the king himself, in which he ordered the repair cum zappis et oportunis aliis munimentis of the road that led from the Neapolitan district of Piedigrotta to Tripergole, passing through Pozzuoli.


Notes

[33]  M.V. CIII, 16.
[34]  R.N.A.M. n. 252.

[35]  R.N.A.M. n. 333. 

[36]  From the early Middle Ages until the second half of the 13th century, the urban area of city of Pozzuoli consisted essentially only of the aforementioned fortified citadel. During the Angevin period, between the late 13th and the first half of the 14th century, the city experienced a period of significant urban and demographic growth, also due to the abolition of the county and the creation of the Civitas Demaniale (May 9, 1296), and thus began to expand beyond the citadel's walls. 

[37]  M.V. vol. CIII, fol. 5. 

[38]  Unfortunately, the 1318 document is now lost, and is known only through a transcription made in the 17th century by the historian Camillo Tutini (1600-1670). 

[39]  The Chapel of Saint James de Cioffis in Pozzuoli was severely vandalized by unknown assailants between late November and early December 1990, when the Gothic portal was smashed with shovels, while the tomb of the founder Giacomo de Cioffis (+ February 2, 1332) was stolen from the inside. The only surviving item is a wooden crucifix with traces of gilding dating back to the late 13th/early 14th century, commonly believed to be a gift from King Charles II of Anjou for the church of Saint Martha of the hospital of Tripergole (founded by him in 1299), and later placed in this chapel after the hospital was destroyed by the eruption of Monte Nuovo in 1538. 

[40]  M.V. CIII, 10. 

[41]  A.C.P. cartella A, n.ri 16; A.C.P. cartella A, n. 46, A.C.P. cartella B, n. 101. 

[42]  A.C.P. cartella C, n. 136. 

[43]  In a document dating back to 5 June 1122, there is mention of a curte dicti Comitis et palatio suo, while in November 1269 the Castle of Pozzuoli was entrusted to a castellan esquire, assisted by eight servientes (In Castro Putheoli Castellanus scutifer et octo servientes), all 9 of whom were paid a total of 53 ounces of gold and 16 tarì per year. 

[44]  A.C.P. cartella A, n. 4. 

[45]  M.V. vol. CIII, fol. 4. 

[46]  The Cathedral of Saint Proculus is first documented in the aforementioned R.N.A.M. document no. 333 of July 24, 1026, as Episcopium Sancti Proculi. Recent archaeological investigations have allowed us, however, to predate the continuing use of this church by several centuries; in particular, the discovery of a fragment of the balustrade surrounding the presbytery, dating to the late 8th century, allows us to assign the consecration of this cathedral to a period not necessarily later. 

[47]  In Pozzuoli, two fine examples of Angevin-era civil portals have survived (and have recently been restored): one featuring a segmental arch with a "bar tracery" cornice in Vico Sant'Artema, and another, more sober one, featuring two simple corbels placed on the jambs, located in Via Crocevia. Furthermore, during the latest restoration work, several other examples of worked stone materials were also discovered, such as capitals, small columns (including some twisted ones), and various moldings, originating from Gothic architectural elements of medieval buildings, such as portals and windows. 

[48]  Also during the latest restoration, a marble panel dating back to the 14th century bearing the coat of arms of the di Costanzo family was discovered, set into the wall of a house in Via San Procolo, above an entrance, probably originally owned by this same family. 

[49]  The Tripergole Hospital was unfortunately destroyed by the eruption of Monte Nuovo, which occurred in the last days of September 1538. To date, the remains of this structure (and, more generally, of the entire Tripergole settlement) have not yet been found. 

[50]  It was through an aqueduct that the Byzantine soldiers of Belisarius entered the city during the siege of Naples in 536. 

[51]  Paolino Veneto (c. 1274 – June 1344) was a famous polymath (specifically a historian, cartographer, and political scientist) of his time. A member of the Franciscan order, he was appointed bishop of Pozzuoli in June 1324 by Pope John XXII, a position he held until his death. 

[52]  Among the various infrastructures damaged by the earthquake, the bishop also mentioned the access bridge to the main gate of the city of Pozzuoli. To help the city recover, Queen Joanna I exempted it from all taxes for a year. 

[53]  Reg. Ang. 1301 B. n. 107 fol 41. 

[54]  The new Angevin pier was a major engineering feat for Naples during that period. It was a gigantic pier, approximately 350 meters long and 40 meters wide, designed by architect Riccardo Primario, assisted by Matteo Lanzalonga, Griffo de Loffredo, and Marino Nasaro. This structure, despite numerous modifications made over the following centuries (in particular, it was extended several times, particularly with the construction of an additional arm facing east), remained in use until the 1930s, when it was unfortunately largely buried during the construction of the modern Maritime Station.