Postcards from Napoli

One of the pleasures of the past few days has been receiving photographs from a friend traveling through Naples with his family. Each new picture has offered a brief glimpse into their journey, from the colorful shores of Procida and the treasures of the Museo e Real Bosco di Capodimonte to the old volumes lining the shelves of the Libreria Antiquaria Colonnese.

Most memorable were the photographs from the Chiesa di San Gregorio Armeno, where the relics of Santa Patrizia are venerated. On her feast day, my friend attended Mass and witnessed the miraculous liquefaction of her blood, one of those ancient Neapolitan devotions in which the sacred remains a living presence.

I have greatly enjoyed these little postcards from Napoli and the chance to share in their journey from afar. I hope you enjoy them as much as I have.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 4th, Feasts of Santa Rosalia and Santa Candida di Napoli

Ponderable Quote: The Final Proclamation of SG King Francesco II of the Two Sicilies to His Neapolitan Subjects

Servant of God King Francesco II
of the Two Sicilies (1836-1894)

On September 5, 1860, King Francesco II of the Two Sicilies left Naples for Gaeta as the invading forces of Garibaldi approached the capital. Before leaving, the King issued a final proclamation to his Neapolitan subjects:

"People of Naples:Of all of the duties demanded of a monarch, those performed in times of adversity are the most difficult and solemn, and I intend to carry them out in a manner and spirit befitting a descendant of so long a line of kings .... Regretfully, I must now leave Naples. An unjust war, one which was not wanted by the people, has overrun my kingdom, despite the fact that I was at peace with all of the European powers .... My paramount concern now is to protect this illustrious city, ... to protect its people from ruin and war, to safeguard its inhabitants and their possessions, the holy temples, the monuments, the public buildings, the art galleries, and everything else that constitutes the patrimony of its civilization and greatness, which, belonging to future generations, must not be sacrificed to transitory passions of the moment .... 

"War is approaching the walls of the city; and it is with ineffable sadness that I leave .... I commend the devotion of the ministry ... and I call upon the honor and civic sense of the mayor of Naples and the commander of the police to spare our beloved city the horrors of internal disturbances .... 

"As a descendant of a dynasty that has ruled over this kingdom for 126 years, after having saved it from the prolonged miseries of the viceregal government, my affections remain here. I am a Neapolitan; and cannot bid farewell to my beloved people, my compatriots, without bitter grief. 

"Whatever my destiny may be, I will always cherish for them a lasting and affectionate memory. I recommend to them peace and concord and observance of their duties as citizens. Let not an immoderate attachment for my crown become a source of turbulence. If the course of the present war should lead me back among you, or if on some future day it may please God to restore me to the throne of my ancestors, rendered more splendid by the free institutions with which I have endowed it, what I most fervently pray for is to find my people united, strong, and happy."

* Reprinted from Modern Naples: A documentary history, 1799-1999 by John Santore, Italica Press, 2001, pp. 174-175

96th Annual Feast of Our Lady of Miracles of Mussomeli at St. Anthony Oratory in Buffalo, New York

In Search of Circe and Scylla with the Ghost of the Count of Sciancato

In Search of… with the Ghost of the Count of Sciancato explores mysteries where history and legend blur and conjecture begins—along with the strange, the macabre, and the uncanny. What follows suggests possible explanations—though not the only ones.

Circe, Glaucus, and Scylla: The Curse of the Strait

Long before maps charted every current of the Mediterranean, sailors feared the narrow strait between Calabria and Sicily. There, they believed, an ancient curse haunted the waters.

According to legend, Scylla was not born a monster. She was a beautiful sea nymph, admired for her ethereal grace and sought after by many suitors. Among those who loved her was Glaucus, a Boeotian fisherman transformed into a prophetic sea god after tasting a mysterious herb.

Circe Invidiosa, 1892,
John William Waterhouse

Scylla did not return Glaucus’ affection, and in his despair he sought the aid of the enchantress Circe, whose island was said to lie somewhere in the western seas. Renowned for her mastery of potions, enchantments, and forbidden arts, Circe possessed the power to reshape the human form.

But the sorceress herself fell in love with Glaucus.

When Glaucus rejected her advances, refusing to abandon his devotion to Scylla, jealousy overcame reason. Circe poured an enchanted draught into the pool where Scylla bathed.

As the nymph entered the water, her body began to change. From her waist sprang the heads of ravenous dogs, snarling and snapping without end. The maiden disappeared, and in her place stood a terrifying creature driven by endless hunger.

Ovid recounts the transformation in his Metamorphoses, preserving one of antiquity’s most haunting tales of love, envy, and revenge.

Later tradition placed Scylla upon the rocky shores of Calabria overlooking the Strait of Messina, forever facing Charybdis, the monstrous whirlpool that churned off the opposite coast. Between them, ships were forced to choose the lesser danger.

For ages, seafarers navigating the strait saw not merely dangerous waters, but the lingering shadow of an old tale.

The natural hazards of the Strait of Messina almost certainly helped give rise to the myth. Its unpredictable currents and treacherous waters inspired the enduring expression “between Scylla and Charybdis.” Like the modern phrase “between a rock and a hard place,” it came to describe any situation in which every choice carries peril.

Was Scylla merely a poetic explanation for the violent waters that threatened ancient mariners? Or did the Greeks preserve through myth the memory of a place where the natural world seemed to yield to enchantment?

……………………………………

Sebastiano III, Conte di Sciancato, a minor prince of forgotten Lucania, was said to have loved his young bride, Donna Lucrezia di Nerafiora, beyond reason. Unable to accept her death, he turned to forbidden books and desperate learning, seeking to restore her to the world of the living. The attempt cost him his life. The ruins of his torre lie hidden, and when the earth trembles, some whisper he still searches for her.

Requiem Mass at the Shrine Chapel of the Blessed Sacrament in Raritan, New Jersey

Revolutionary Abstraction

Scène de Juillet 1830 (Les Drapeaux), 1830, Léon Cogniet, Musée des
Beaux-Arts d’Orléans. Painted to glorify the July Revolution, Cogniet
portrays the white Bourbon flag pierced, bloodied, and reborn as the
French Tricolour. The artist intended to celebrate the revolution's
victory. I see the painting instead as a vivid record of its assault
on monarchy, tradition, and the historic symbols of France.

“The tricolor! Tricolor indeed! They fill their mouths with these words, the rascals. What does that ugly geometric sign, that aping of the French mean, compared to our white banner with its golden lily in the middle? What hope can those clashing colors bring them?” — Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa, The Leopard (Il Gattopardo)

Not long ago, someone offered me a complimentary Italia shirt emblazoned with the Italian Tricolor. I thanked him for the gesture but politely declined. Puzzled, he insisted that I take it anyway, as though I had not understood the offer. When I refused a second time, his confusion turned to irritation, and he became increasingly determined to press it into my hands. Only when I finally replied that I would not be caught dead wearing that rag did he abandon the effort and storm away in a fit of indignation. The exchange reminded me just how differently people can view a flag. To many Italian Americans, the tricolor is an unquestioned emblem of heritage and ethnic pride. To me, it represents something altogether different.

Few symbols leave me as cold as the tricolor. Not merely the Italian tricolor, but the entire family of tricolors that swept across Europe in the wake of revolution. Whenever I see them, I think less of nations than of ideologies: republicanism, egalitarianism, and the deliberate rejection of the older order.

The banners of kingdoms spoke a different language. They bore dynastic arms, sacred emblems, ancient crosses, lilies, eagles, lions, and crowns. They proclaimed continuity rather than rupture and inheritance over construction. A royal standard represented a people shaped through centuries of history, faith, and tradition.

The tricolor, by contrast, symbolizes the triumph of universal abstractions over inherited patrimonies and of utopian ideals over civilization. From one republic to another, their three interchangeable bands differ little except in whether they are tierced in pale or in fess.

I recognize that millions look upon these flags with sincere patriotism, and I do not question their affection. Yet I cannot share it. My allegiance belongs to older symbols: the Bourbon lilies, the imperial eagle, the Cross of Burgundy, the crowned escutcheon, and the heraldic language that once clothed Europe in visible memory.

To me, a flag should evoke more than a state. It should remind us that a nation is an inheritance rather than a political project, a sacred trust received from our ancestors rather than an experiment devised by legislators and ideologues. That is why, whenever I see a tricolor fluttering in the wind, I cannot help but feel that something immeasurably older, richer, and more beautiful was lowered from the mast to make way for it.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 2nd, Feast of the Holy Martyrs of September

Further Reading:
L’Italia non esiste. «Una d’arme, di lingua, d’altare»? Considerazioni sull’identità italiana pre- e post-risorgimentale, Anales de la Fundación Francisco Elías de Tejada, Year XXV (2019).

Feast of Our Lady of Vailankanni at St. John Vianney Church in Colonia, New Jersey

She: A Haunting Vision of Lost Worlds

“Often I sit alone at night, staring with the eyes of the mind into the darkness of unborn time, and wondering in what shape and form the great drama will be finally developed, and where the scene of its next act will be laid.” ~ H. Rider Haggard, She

I have become increasingly frustrated, and frankly disgusted, with the state of modern fantasy and science fiction films. So much of it feels soulless and derivative, overwhelmed by spectacle, ideology, and subversive messaging at the expense of mystery, imagination, and wonder. As a result, I have taken to watching and re-watching old favorites and classics, returning to an era when filmmakers still understood that the fantastic should transport us somewhere strange, beautiful, and beyond the ordinary.

She (1935) is a wonderfully atmospheric tale, based on H. Rider Haggard’s celebrated 1887 novel She: A History of Adventure, one of the great works of Victorian imaginative literature. Filled with peril, adventure, and the supernatural, the film blends romance, archaeology, and the arcane.

Helen Gahagan as Queen Hash-A-Mo-Tep
in She (1935), wearing the regal costume
and headdress that would influence the
appearance of Disney's Queen Grimhilde in
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)

In this adaptation, the immortal Ayesha, known as “She-who-must-be-obeyed,” becomes Queen Hash-A-Mo-Tep, portrayed unforgettably by Helen Gahagan with an imperious beauty and otherworldly presence. Her striking appearance would later serve as a model for Disney's Evil Queen in Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937). The film’s lavish visual design and dreamlike imagery bring this Gothic epic vividly to life.

The novel’s vision of an ancient civilization hidden from the modern world helped establish many of the conventions of the lost-world genre and has inspired generations of writers and artists. The 1935 adaptation captures the author’s fascination with forbidden places, the mysterious past, and the allure of immortality.

One of the film’s most significant departures from the novel is its shift from the remote interior of Africa to the frozen reaches of Muscovy. Beyond the forbidding Shugal Barrier lies the forgotten Kingdom of Kôr, a mythical land seemingly cut off from the known world and the course of history.

The change opened a new frontier while giving the picture a haunting atmosphere of glaciers, savage troglodytes, and an ancient kingdom concealed beneath snowbound mountains. It also helped distinguish the 1935 version from earlier adaptations, transforming Haggard’s tropical lost world into a strange, subterranean realm. Although far removed from the novel’s geography, the Siberian setting preserves the essential idea at the heart of the original story: an arduous expedition into a place seemingly untouched by time.

My two editions of H. Rider Haggard's She

Rewatching She only deepened my appreciation for the film. The magnificent sets, elaborate costumes, evocative cinematography, and Max Steiner’s sweeping musical score create a sense of grandeur and enchantment that I find sorely missing from so much modern filmmaking. Nearly a century later, She remains a captivating relic of Hollywood fantasy at its most imaginative and romantic.

I also enjoyed the smaller details: the way people spoke, carried themselves, dressed, and interacted with one another. There is a formality and courtesy even in ordinary exchanges that belongs to another world as surely as the film’s lost kingdom does. Watching She was therefore more than an escape into fantasy. It was also, in its own way, an escape into the past, and for a little while I was happy to lose myself in both.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, September 1st, Feast of Sant’Egidio 

Fifteenth Sunday After Pentecost at Our Lady of Sorrows Church in Jersey City, New Jersey

Simple Pleasures — Napoli or Nothing

Spotted this Napoli or Nothing sticker on the bar at the Italian American Emporium in Little Italy, New York. The bar is slowly becoming a collage as more stickers are added, with plenty of room still left to fill. Among the growing collection, this little declaration of Neapolitan pride immediately caught my eye.

Buon Capodanno Bizantino! Happy New Year to Our Byzantine Brethren!

In the Byzantine Rite September 1st is the beginning of a new liturgical year. For centuries, Byzantine civilization flourished in Southern Italy until being absorbed by the dominant Latin population. However, pockets of the Divine Liturgy and old cultural traditions still exist today and, in some cases, they continue to grow and thrive again.

Harking back to its Imperial roots, Amalfi and neighboring Atrani commemorate Byzantine New Year with a two day medieval themed festival, extolling the past glories of the ancient maritime Republic. Beginning on the eve on August 31st, revelers will partake in a series of popular amusements and entertainments, including music, local delicacies, fireworks and, of course, the grand procession of Knights and Ladies in period costumes (corteo storico rievocativo) reenacting the bygone investiture of the new Magister di Civiltà Amalfitana. 

In celebration, I’m posting prayers for the Beginning of the Church Year from Byzantine Catholic Prayer for the Home. They are meant for private use. Pictured is my WWI Byzantine Cross Combat Rosary from Rugged Rosaries. Buon Capodanno Bizantino!

Troparia

Troparion of the lndiction Tone 2 You spaced the seasons and the years on Your Own authority, so bless the beginning of this New Year, O Creator. Preserve our authorities and our state in peace, O Lord, through the prayers of the Theotokos, and save us.

Kontakion of the lndiction Tone 2 Christ our King Who dwells on high, bless the beginning of this new year. For You are the One Who set the seasons and the years. You are the One Who made both night and day. Protect our authorities, our state and our people, and keep them at peace, O merciful Lord. 

Stichera
Glory be...now and ever…O Eternal Word and Son, together with the Holy Spirit, Creator + and Maker of all things visible and invisible, bless the beginning of the year, keep in peace all the faithful, through the prayers of the Theotokos and all Your saints. 

Views from the Far North: Friends' Journey Through Iceland

Leif Erikson monument in front of Hallgrímskirkja Church, Reykjavik

Friends recently returned from Iceland and shared photographs from their journey through that strange and beautiful northland. Their images reveal a landscape that seems almost primordial: immense waterfalls plunging through black rock, glaciers stretching toward distant mountains, erupting geysers, volcanic fields, dramatic rock formations, lonely roads, and native wildlife beneath vast skies.

(Above and below) Traditional Icelandic turf houses

(L) Monument to Snorri Sturluson. (R) Geothermal pool and
doorway to tunnel thought to be linked to Sturluson's house

Búlandstindur mountain

(L) Strokkur Geyser. (R) Dynjandi Falls

Dynjandi Falls

Seljalandsfoss Falls

Dynjandi Falls

Stuðlagil Canyon

Basalt columns

Icelandic horses

Puffins

Arctic fox

(L) Raven. (R) Seal

Blue ice

(L) Reynisfjara. (R) Hvitserkur

Reynisfjara Black Sand Beach

Garðar BA 64