Remembering His Royal Highness, Prince Ranieri of Bourbon-Two Sicilies

b. 3 December 1883 — d. 13 January 1973

Signore misericordioso, Ti ringraziamo di avercelo dato per Maestro, ed offriamo a Te oggi il nostro dolore e la profonda nostra tristezza, per la Sua beatitudine eterna. Accogli o Signore la Sua Anima, e la Tua luce risplenda su di essa.

In memory of His Royal Highness, Prince Ranieri of Bourbon-Two Sicilies, XVI Duke of Castro, Head of the Royal House and Grand Master of the Dynastic Orders, we pray for the happy repose of his soul.

Eternal rest grant unto His Royal Highness, O Lord and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen

Celebrating the Feast of the “Earthly Trinity”

Holy Family with an Angel, ca. 1490,
tempera on canvas, transferred from
wood, Raffaellino del Garbo

Dómine Jesu Christe, qui Mariæ et Joseph súbditus, domésticam vitam ineffabílibus virtútibus consecrásti: fac nos, utriúsque auxílio, Famíliæ sanctæ tuæ exémplis ínstrui; et consórtium cónsequi sempitérnum: Qui vivas. 1

Sunday unfolded as a quiet pilgrimage through prayer, beauty, and memory.

We began the morning at Our Lady of Peace Church in Brooklyn, praying our weekly Latin Rosary for Servant of God King Francesco II of the Two Sicilies, asking for the advancement of his Cause for Beatification, and for the Canonization of his mother, Queen Maria Cristina di Savoia.

From Brooklyn, we crossed into Manhattan, where we attended the traditional Latin High Mass at Holy Innocents Church for the Feast of the Holy Family.

After Mass, we went uptown to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, wandering once more through the European Paintings galleries (1250–1800) and the Rodin gallery. There, we revisited old companions: Diego Velázquez, Nicolas Poussin, Rembrandt, Auguste Rodin, and Salvator Rosa. Their works, disciplined and uncompromising, reminded us that true art—like true worship—assumes order, form, and reverence for what transcends the individual.

The day moved seamlessly from altar to gallery, from prayer to paint, each reinforcing the other. Faith shaped vision; beauty confirmed belief. In a city that rarely pauses, the Feast of the Holy Family became a lived procession—through church, through museum halls, and through the inheritance of a civilization still worth guarding.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, January 12th, Feast of San Bernardo da Corleone

(L) Saint Michael and the Dragon, ca. 1405, tempera on wood, gold
ground, Spanish (Valencian) painter active in Italy, early 15th century.
(R) Saint Lawrence Enthroned with Saints and Donors, 1440S,
tempera on wood, gold ground, Fra Filippo Lippi 

Christ's Descent into Hell, oil on wood, follower of Hieronymus Bosch

(L) The Adoration of the Magi, ca. 1475, oil and gold on oak,
Hieronymus Bosch. (R) The Rest on the Flight into Egypt,
ca. 1512-15, oil on wood, Gerard David 

Tobit Burying the Dead, 1640s, oil on canvas, Andrea di Lione

(L) Pilate Washing His Hands, 1663, oil on canvas, Mattia Preti (Il Cavalier Calabrese). (R) The Dream of Aeneas, 1660-65, oil on canvas, Salvator Rosa

Bandits on a Rocky Coast, 1655-60, oil on canvas, Salvator Rosa

(L) Self-Portrait, 1660, oil on canvas, Rembrandt. (R) Aristotle
with a Bust of Homer, 1653, oil on canvas, Rembrandt

The Toilet of Bathsheba, 1643, oil on wood, Rembrandt

(L) Philip IV (1605-1665), King of Spain, probably 1624, oil on canvas, Diego Rodríguez de Silva y Velázquez. (R) Margherita Gonzaga (1591-1632), Princess of Mantua, oil on canvas, Frans Pourbus the Younger

Marla Teresa (1638-1683), Infanta of Spain, 1651-54, oil on canvas, Velázquez

(L) Portinari (Maria Maddalena Baroncelli, born 1456), ca. 1470, oil on panel, Hans Memling. (R) The Young Saint John the Baptist, ca. 1480-82, tempera and oil on wood, Piero di Cosimo (Piero di Lorenzo di Piero d'Antonio)

The Temptation of Saint Mary Magdalen, ca. 1626, oil on canvas, Johann Liss

(L) A Maid Asleep, ca. 1656-57, oil on canvas, Johannes Vermeer. (R) Young
Woman with a Water Pitcher, ca. 1662, oil on canvas, Johannes Vermeer

(L) Saint Rosalie Interceding for the Plague-Stricken of Palermo,
1624, oil on canvas, Anthony van Dyck. (R) Vanitas Still Life,
1603, oil on wood, Jacques de Gheyn II

(L) Marble statue of Dionysos seated on a panther, 1st-3rd century
AD, marble, François Duquesnoy. (R) Louis of France, The Grand Dauphin
(1661-1711), late 17th century, bronze, François Girardon

Eternal Spring, modeled ca. 1881, carved 1907, marble, Auguste Rodin

(L) Orpheus and Eurydice, modeled ca. 1887, carved 1893, marble, Auguste Rodin. (R) The Thinker, modeled ca. 1880, cast ca. 1910, bronze, Auguste Rodin

The Thinker, modeled ca. 1880, cast ca. 1910, bronze, Auguste Rodin

Madame X (Countess Anna-Elizabeth de Noailles),
ca. 1907, marble, Auguste Rodin

(L) Lachrymae, 1894-95, oil on canvas, Frederic, Lord Leighton.
(R) Oedipus and the Sphinx, 1864, oil on canvas, Gustave Moreau 

Island of the Dead, 1880, oil on wood, Arnold Böcklin

Notes:
(1) O Lord Jesus Christ, who being subject to Mary and Joseph, didst sanctify home life with unspeakable virtues: grant that, by the aid of both, we may be taught by the example of Thy Holy Family, and attain to eternal fellowship with it: Who livest. ~ Collect

Viva 'o Rre! Happy Birthday King Ferdinando I of the Two Sicilies

b. Napoli, 12 January 1751 – d. Napoli, 4 January 1825

In memory of King Ferdinando I of the Two Sicilies, we pray for the happy repose of his soul. Viva ‘o Rre!

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

Viva 'o Rre! Happy Birthday King Ferdinando II of the Two Sicilies

b. Palermo, 12 January 1810 — d. Caserta, 22 May 1859

In memory of King Ferdinando II of the Two Sicilies, we pray for the happy repose of his soul. Viva ‘o Rre!

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

Cautious Hopes: A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Looking for some new and worthwhile fantasy to watch, I find myself cautiously anticipating A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, set to premiere on HBO Max on Sunday, January 18, 2026. Having never read George R.R. Martin's books, I’ve come to it only through its trailers, but I’m told that shouldn’t matter. Supposedly, this series stands on its own—unburdened by deep familiarity with Game of Thrones or House of the Dragon, both of which I declined to follow. My hope is simple: a fantasy story without the modern drama and gratuitous perversion that made those shows intolerable.

Recent history doesn’t inspire confidence. Between the abysmal Red Sonja, the hollow spectacle of The Green Knight, the limp streaming adaptations of Robin Hood and The Witcher, and early glimpses of The Death of Robin Hood and The Odyssey—whose costuming and casting choices already raise red flags—optimism feels naïve. And yet, I persist—apparently a glutton for punishment.

What’s been lost is a certain seriousness of myth: the kind found in Excalibur, Conan the Barbarian, and The Lord of the Rings trilogy—films I return to regularly. I’m not opposed to camp or fun; I enjoyed the original Clash of the Titans and Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves. What I have no patience for is the effete sensibility of many contemporary epic fantasy productions (e.g., Rings of Power), which mistake ideology and moral posturing for world-building and substance.

Still, hope remains. Recent adaptations of Nosferatu and Frankenstein prove that, when they choose to, Hollywood can still produce works with atmosphere, restraint, and craft. Perhaps A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms will be another reminder that sword and sorcery need not be stupid, obscene, or cynical. I would be pleased to be surprised.

~ By Giovanni di Napoli, January 10th, Feast of Pope St. Agatho

Photo of the Week: A Roman Bust of Janus, Eternal Guardian of Thresholds, Vatican Museums

Photo by New York Scugnizzo

Corso di Cultura Identitaria

In Napoli

Feast of Pope St. Agatho

Pope St. Agatho, ora pro nobis

January 10th is the feast of St. Agatho (c. 577–681), Pope. Elected to the Roman See in 678, his pontificate lasted until his death in 681, during a time of plague in Rome. Born in Sicily, Agatho spent many years as a monk in Palermo, likely formed under the Rule of St. Benedict, and is remembered as a model of humility, learning, and doctrinal clarity during a time of grave theological crisis. His monastic formation shaped his character, and contemporaries described him as gentle in manner, austere in life, and exceptionally learned, especially in theology and Scripture.

Agatho’s pontificate is chiefly distinguished by his decisive role in resolving the Monothelite controversy—the claim that Christ possessed only one will. In a series of authoritative letters sent to the emperor and to the bishops of the East, Agatho affirmed the traditional Catholic teaching that Christ has two wills, divine and human, united without division in one person.

The condemnation of Monothelitism, including the posthumous censure of Pope Honorius I for negligence, strengthened the Church’s understanding of papal responsibility. The pope is preserved from error when he definitively teaches the faith, but not when he governs negligently or fails to act decisively.

Later tradition also credited Agatho with many miracles, earning him the title Thaumaturgus, or Wonderworker, particularly in his native Sicily.

Evviva Sant’Agatho!

In celebration of his feast, we offer this prayer:

Prayer to Saint Agatho

O holy St. Agatho, humble servant of God and faithful shepherd of the Church, you guided the flock of Christ with wisdom, courage, and love, defending the truth and bringing unity to His people. Intercede for us, we pray, that we may stand firm in our faith, resisting the errors and challenges of our time, and always seeking the peace and truth of Christ. Teach us your humility and devotion, so we may serve others with compassion, caring for the poor, the vulnerable, and the forgotten, as you so beautifully reflected the love of our Lord. St. Agatho, pray for us, that we may follow your example of steadfastness and holiness, and one day join you in the eternal joy of heaven. Through Jesus Christ, our Lord, Amen.

March for Life 2026

Coffee, Memory, and Passing Encounters

I dug up a couple of my lyric vignettes to share—small moments gathered in cafés, where ritual and chance still linger. One returns, again and again, to a place haunted by history; the other records a single meeting, brief and unresolved, that refuses to settle into the past. ~ Giovanni di Napoli

Caffè Gambrinus

With each visit to Naples,
I make my way to Caffè Gambrinus,
The old coffee house across from the Royal Palace.
I raise a quiet toast
To the poets and artists who gathered there before me.

Their ghosts linger in the Art Nouveau rooms,
Like old Gambrinus himself.
I sip my caffè, eat my sfogliatelle, and watch the crowd,
Summoning, for a moment,
The faded splendor of the Belle Époque.

Cafè Gambrinus

A ogne víseta a Nápule,
Vaco ‘o’ Café Gambinus,
‘O cafè antico ‘e rimpetto ‘o Palazzo Riale.
Faccio nu brínnese zitto zitto
‘E’ puete e artiste
Ca nce arrucchiájeno primm’’e mme.

‘E fantáseme lloro nce rummáneno
Int’’e sale stile liberty,
Comm’’o viecchio Gambrinus isso stesso.
Me piglio ‘o surzillo mio,
Me magno ‘e sfugliatelle, e tengo a mente ‘a folla,
Facenno turnà, pe nu mumento
‘O sbrannore appassulejato d’’a belle époque.

Stella

We met at the café, and I held the door for her.
She smiled; I nodded and said, “Good morning.”

Taking her order, the barista asks her name—Stella.
Her hair jet; her eyes dark, almond-shaped.

“Your usual?” he asks me—un caffé.
She lifts her cup and says only, “Good day.”

And so I wait, and wait again,
For another morning that might place Stella in my path.

Stella

Nce simmo ncuntrate ‘o’ café, e i’ tenevo aperta ‘a porta p’essa.
Surrideva; i’ capuzzejavo e dicevo, «bongiorno».

‘O barista, lesto a fà l’órdene, nce addimanna ‘o nomme- Stella.
‘E capille suoje curuvine; ll’uocchie nire, ‘amménnole.

«’O sóleto?» addimanna a mme- nu café.
Chella s’aíza ‘a tazzulella e dice sulo, «Bona jurnata».

E accussí i’ aspetto e aspetto ancora,
Pe n’ata matina ca me mettesse ccà annanze Stella.

* Translations by Cav. Charles Sant’Elia

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Second Sunday After Epiphany at St. Michael's Church in Staten Island, New York

A Day at the Hispanic Society Museum & Library: Part III — Permanence in Stone and Clay

See Part I, Part II

The Tomb of Doña Mencía Enríquez de Toledo (d. 1479), Duchess of Alburquerque and second wife of Don Beltrán de la Cueva, from the monastery of San Francisco in Cuéllar (Segovia), anchors the museum in medieval continuity, its stillness carrying more authority than any explanatory plaque. It is not dramatic; it is declarative—a reminder that memory once had mass and permanence.

Nearby, the Ceramics Collection extends that sense of endurance into daily life. Bowls, tiles, and vessels—humble, precise, and unapologetically functional—quietly affirm that beauty, when ordered to use and tradition, does not fade.