hideous scheme of decoration which has transformed an otherwise fine
concert hall--for S. Chiara is more like one than a church--into a
curiosity of bad taste, there is a great deal of interest within the
fabric. Founded at the commencement of the fourteenth century by Robert
the Wise, the church contains his monument and also others of the royal
house of Anjou. The frescoes with which Giotto adorned the walls have
long ago disappeared, and if it were not for the royal tombs S. Chiara
would not be worth a visit. Behind the high altar, at the back of which
stairs lead up to a platform enabling one to examine it, is the
magnificent tomb of King Robert. The royal sarcophagus rests on Gothic
pillars and is adorned by sculptures of the king and his children. His
recumbent figure lies extended in the garb of a Franciscan, which Order
he entered a few days before his death. Above this, under a canopy, is
his figure seated on a throne and clad in royal robes. The beautiful
Gothic canopy is supported by slender clustered columns, with five rows
of saints in niches carried up to the base of the crocketed pinnacles
that surround the canopy. Robert's son Charles, Duke of Calabria, and
Mary of Valois, his second wife, lie in sarcophagi that are upheld by
figures of angels. These two splendid tombs are to the south of the
great king's. To the north are those of Mary, Empress of Constantinople,
and of her third husband, Philip of Taranto. Two of her children, Agnese
and Clementia, lie also near by; the former, who was married twice,
espoused firstly one of the Scaligeri, or della Scala, of Verona. To the
right of the high altar is a chapel adorned with fleur-de-lys, the
burial place of the royal house of Bourbon. This little chapel and the
tombs in it lose greatly in historical sentiment by their hideous and
garish surroundings.
S. Domenico Maggiore, the curious exterior of which is illustrated, was
originally a noble Gothic edifice. The restorer, unfortunately, has
altered and added to this, and although the interior plan is much the
same as when first erected, the terrible colours with which it is
covered detract in no small measure from its very fine proportions. The
sketch shows the exterior of the five-sided apse. The dull yellow tufa
with which it is faced and the embattled cornice and buttresses give it
a decidedly eastern appearance. S. Domenico may be entered by the door
just visible on the left, to reach which one toils up a long flight of
moss-grown steps. Push aside the heavy leather flap, and the noisy
little piazza, with all Naples beyond, are immediately things of the
remote past. You are in a beautiful little twelfth-century chapel. Its
walls are lined with most interesting tomb slabs. Note the short figures
on each. The Neapolitan is very low of stature, and these short figures,
although the tombs are of the twelfth and two succeeding centuries,
point to the surmise that the men of the south were never tall. From
this chapel one enters the great church at the south transept.
Immediately on our left is the sacristy. Here in the gallery which
occupies one wall are forty-five burial chests, among which ten
hold the remains of ten princes and princesses of the royal line of
Aragon. Those which have been identified are Ferdinand I. and II., one
of the Dukes of Montalto and his Duchess, and Cardinal Louis d'Aragona.
Another contains the husband of the celebrated Vittoria Colonna, the
Marquis of Pescara who defeated Francis I. at Pavia. There is something
of interest to be found in every chapel in the church. In one of them is
the crucifix which conversed with S. Thomas Aquinas while he was
composing his _Summa Theologiæ_. The saint's cell may still be seen, and
also the room in which he gave his addresses when lecturer in the
university that was within the walls of the adjoining monastery. The
high altar, raised well above the steps of the choir, is one of the most
remarkable specimens of Florentine inlay in the country. It has the
curious adjuncts of a recessed seat on either side, and two very fine
marble candelabra.
[Illustration: S. DOMENICO MAGGIORE, NAPLES]
These are but three of the three hundred churches Naples possesses.
Climb the hill of the Mte Calvari crowned by the Castel Sant' Elmo and
look out from the Belvedere in the suppressed Carthusian monastery of S.
Martino. Try to count the towers, domes, and spires standing out from
the carpet of roofs below. You will be fatigued before you have reached
the second hundred. Perhaps the magnificent prospect over the blue bay,
with Isola da Capri and the Punta Campanella in the distance, the
Sorrentine peninsula and the wonderful shape of Vesuvius on the left,
will distract your arithmetic. At any rate the counting of the churches
is not worth the trouble when such a glorious view lies before one.
Beyond the garden--the old monastic garden, how the monks must have
revelled in it!--and beyond the roofs below, the Castel dell' Ovo juts
out into the bay. To the left of it, shipping of all nationalities rides
the water along the quays near the Arsenal and royal palace. The funnels
of huge liners stand up amidst a forest of masts beyond the
Immacolatella in a fine sweep to the Rione Margherita di Savoia.
Coasting boats with sails like butterflies skim the water. Down in the
harbour all is animation; but so far are we above it that not a sound
breaks through the distant hum to enable us to distinguish any one
particular note.
The cloisters of S. Martino are very beautiful. Sixteen white marble
Doric columns form the arcade on each of the four sides. The cells of
the departed monks are shut now and the holes through which their food
was passed, bricked up. The walls are white; the classic well-head in
the centre of the garden is white and so are its steps. The little
burial ground in one corner of the court has a white marble balustrade
on which are very realistic white marble skulls. Everything gleams white
in this quiet court, and the deep blue of the southern sky intensifies
it all. For a painter it is a rare study, but perhaps not so fine an one
as I once saw years ago. It was in January, snow had fallen for two or
three days--even Capri was covered--when with a friend I walked up to
the Carthusian monastery of Camaldoli. We reached it just as the fall
which had been going on all day ceased. A thick white carpet of fresh
untrodden snow lay round us. The white monastery walls looked dull. We
rang at the gate, a white garbed monk opened it. We were in a white
courtyard surrounded by white walls, and a line of white monks moved
slowly towards the chapel. Everything was white. But what a subtlety in
the distinction of the colour! Only the sky was grey, and that such a
beautiful pearly tone. I question if pigment even in a master's hand
could have faithfully reproduced the scene.
Naples was very different in those days. S. Lucia existed then. Now the
old harbour is filled up and modern hotels stand where frail wooden
piers ran out into the water. From these spider-like structures oysters
hung down in baskets fructifying in the outlet of the main sewer! S.
Lucia was surpassingly picturesque and gay with the life of the lowest
class, but--surpassingly odoriferous. Stalls lined the pavements. Fish
of all sorts, cooling drinks, lemons, oranges, every description of
fruit, were displayed in the shade of multi-coloured awnings.
_Lazzaroni_ lay stretched all day long on the sea wall, or slept on the
foot-ways propped against the houses. Domestic toilettes performed out
of doors in the street never excited remark. And the houses themselves,
what a blaze of shifting colour when the wind stirred the sheets and
clothing hung out to dry from a hundred balconies! All is changed. The
sewage is carried out to sea right away at Cumæ. There are no more
oysters at S. Lucia; there is no longer a S. Lucia, but with its
disappearance Naples has lost its most unique attraction.
Away at the end of the Chiaia, past the celebrated Marine Aquarium, the
hill of Posillipo rises above the little fishing harbour of Mergellina.
A tram will carry you swiftly round the corner and along an uphill road
from which you will obtain many delightful views. There is nothing on
the Riviera to equal the position of some of the fine villas which line
this road. Beautiful grounds run down to the sea. Exotic plants grow and
flourish, sheltered from the bitter _tramontana_ wind. Great pine trees
rise solemnly above the tops of their Bay, such as is illustrated,
lead one up the steep slopes. Wherever one wanders, it is always the
blue sea that is below, and always the wonderful outline of the
peninsula across the Bay in the distance or the graceful curves on the
flanks of Mount Vesuvius, or, most beautiful of all, the lovely outline
of the enchanting Isola da Capri.
[Illustration: THE BAY OF NAPLES FROM POSILLIPO]
SALERNO
In the Middle Ages the subject of this chapter was famous throughout
Christendom for its school of medicine. S. Thomas Aquinas tells us that
in the medical world Salerno ranked where Bologna did in law and Paris
in science. Had its fame on this account not been so great, Robert, the
son of William the Conqueror, would not have delayed his homeward
journey, and stopped there to consult its medical men for a wound he had
received in the Holy Land. In consequence of his absence from England,
Henry stepped on to the throne which had meanwhile become vacant by the
death of Rufus, and the rightful heir never reigned. Salerno was in many
other ways connected with the powerful race of Northmen. Robert Guiscard
received his mortal wound before the walls of the city as his troops
swept over the ramparts at the first assault after an eight months'
siege. Roger the Norman was here declared king of Naples and Sicily at a
meeting of the barons in 1130, and for many years Salerno was the seat
of the Norman government in South Italy. Like many another city which
has in the past enjoyed a famous reputation and been of great
importance, there is now practically nothing left to tell of its great
days. On a crag at the end of the old city walls, some nine hundred feet
above the sea, the ruins of the Northmen's stronghold, in the attack on
which Robert Guiscard was wounded, still remain, buffeted by the storms
that rush up the mountain slopes. The harbour which Manfred commenced to
build, and which in old days held the Norman fleet, lies below the
Marina, but it silted up many years ago, and is now almost useless for
trade. The great days of Salerno have gone, just as the great days of
her famous neighbour, Amalfi. The exigencies of modern trade routes and
the facilities of the railway have robbed her of all the power and glory
she once possessed.
There is, however, something left to remind one of her past wealth and
power. Closely hemmed in by its surroundings, the cathedral is not by
any means easy to find. Tortuous uphill streets lead to the piazza,
where, on a steep incline, a fine double flight of steps with a marble
balustrade give on to the spacious cloistered court or atrium beyond
which it stands. Robert Guiscard dedicated his cathedral to S. Matteo,
and, so that it should be worthy of the great race of de Hauteville,
plundered the old Greek city of Pæstum for the building of it. Nearly
every one of the pillars of these cloisters came from there. Most of
them are so massive that the capitals of native workmanship, probably
hewn while the plundering was going on, are too small. The arches above
are stilted; they support a gallery whereon a row of statues of
different archbishops appear in a now much delapidated condition. The
same state of partial ruin greets the eye as one looks around. Fourteen
ancient sarcophagi, nearly all of them Greek, stand in the cloisters of
the court. They were used by the Normans for Christian burial, but,
alas! are mutilated and chipped at the corners, and their fine
bas-reliefs, one of a hunting scene, another with centaurs and nymphs on
the panels, are almost completely ruined by the ill-treatment they have
received. In the centre of the court is a fountain. Water still splashes
in its Greek basin, but decay and neglect have robbed this otherwise
beautiful atrium of most of its charm.
The cathedral adjoins the courtyard. The bronze doors of the central
porch were at one time inlaid with silver. The precious metal has
disappeared, but small figures of the Apostles and Christian symbols
bear evidence that when these doors came fresh from Constantinople in
the eleventh century they were of very fine craftsmanship. The interior
of the great church is whitewashed. The floor slopes up towards the
east end, and is a good example of a well arranged marble pattern. The
most interesting things, if we except the tombs that are in the
building, are the two _ambones_, or pulpits. That which appears in the
illustration is a wonderful example of the work of John of Procida. The
other, as well as the archbishop's throne, is by the same great
designer. All three are masterpieces of the Græco-Byzantine style of
inlaid _tesseræ_. In the illustration will be seen a fine Paschal
candelabrum, with most intricate inlay, as fine in its way as that
described in the next chapter. These pulpits are approached by steps
from inside the choir. One is supported by four columns of rare porphyry
and the other by twelve of granite from Pæstum. Age has toned the white
marble panels to a light grey, which gives a wonderfully fine note to
the white of the cathedral walls as one looks up the nave from the west
end. The choir is encircled with a most beautiful inlaid marble screen,
in decoration similar to the two pulpits. The floor is a grand example
of _opus Alexandrinum_ inlay, and is as good in this respect as the best
in Italy.
[Illustration: A PULPIT IN THE CATHEDRAL, SALERNO]
Under the high altar, in the crypt, is a monument to S. Matthew, with a
seated bronze figure of the saint. Below this, in a casket, repose the
remains of the Evangelist, which were brought here in the year 930. The
crypt itself is not interesting. To find what is, we must return to the
church above, where some of the tombs are well worthy of study. Pope
Gregory VII., Hildebrand, who died in Salerno, lies in a sarcophagus in
one of the side chapels. The remains of Margaret of Anjou, mother of
King Ladislaus, rest under the canopy of a fine tomb, on which in relief
the queen is depicted surrounded by her children and her maids of
honour. Angels form the support to the canopy, which is decorated with
gold fleur-de-lys on a blue ground. Archbishop Caraffa's remains are in
a fine Greek sarcophagus with Medusa heads at its corners. On another is
a fine bas-relief of the Triumph of Bacchus, and many more, like those
in the cloisters, have been transferred from Pagan use to Christian. The
chapel in which is Hildebrand's tomb belongs to the family of John of
Precida, who decorated it himself.
In the sacristy is a very interesting _Palla_ of ivory, the thirty
panels of which represent scenes in the Old and New Testaments. This
eleventh-century work is one of the few things which can with truth be
said to be in excellent preservation. The cathedral, like its
surroundings, is sadly in need of repair. Its fine _campanile_ is
buttressed up, or would long ago have toppled into the street below. The
two lowest storeys of this grand tower are the original Norman work of
Roger's day. At their angles are marble and granite columns, no doubt
from Pæstum. The two upper storeys are not like the lower, built of
stone, but have been constructed in a very beautifully coloured brick.
They are pierced by Norman arches, above which is the belfry surmounted
by a dome. Were it not for the few things we have noted, Salerno would
not be worth a visit. But if only to see the magnificent pulpits and
stand silently in the crypt by the remains of the Evangelist, the
tourist in his hurry should never omit to spend at least a few hours in
this once famous city.
PALERMO
Phoenicians, Carthaginians, Greeks and Romans, Goths, Byzantines,
Normans and Spaniards, have all ruled in Sicily; and those whose
curiosity takes them to the museum of Palermo may there see many
antiquities of great interest in the history of each period. The man who
observes may also see much in her streets. There are distinct quarters
in Palermo where the different races and their descendants have kept
themselves to themselves from time immemorial. It takes no special
knowledge of racial physiognomy to single out among other types the
Berber or the Greek, as one saunters along watching the ever-changing
crowd in the lively thoroughfares. The Norman occupation is recalled in
the vivid decoration of the panels of the peasants' carts. On them one
sees the gallant Norman slaying the truculent Infidel--slaying them by
dozens! Quite archaic is the execution of these panels--the handiwork of
a long line of painters, whose progenitors hundreds of years ago were
painting the same scenes on the vehicles of their day. The colours are
crude. Every inch of the car is painted. The spokes of the wheels are
notched and carved. The body of the cart is firmly fixed, high above the
axle bar, by well-arranged ironwork of floral design. There are no other
carts in existence like them; and when the feathered plume of
ultramarine and red which always adorns the donkey's headgear, and the
tinselled harness worked with gold and silver thread, are new, not many
chariots or state coaches make a braver show.
Palermo is divided into four quarters by the two streets that, running
east and west, north and south, bisect one another at the circular space
in the centre of the city called the Quattro Canti--the Four Corners.
Standing in this busy spot and looking downhill northwards, the deep
blue of the Mediterranean bounds the horizon. South the view is
partially stopped by the great city gateway, the arch of the Porta Nuova
which crosses the street by the Royal Palace nearly a mile away. East
and west, high over the heads of the crowd and the congested traffic,
grand mountains rise up with a puff of white cloud above their summits.
In whichever direction one gazes the vista ends, far beyond the lines of
tall houses, with the blue sea or the blue sky.
[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL. PALERMO]
If one walks towards the Royal Palace up the hill, one passes through
the fine Piazza del Duomo. It is a large square enclosed on three sides
by a marble balustrade, on which stand, at intervals, colossal statues
of bishops and saints. On the fourth side is the great cathedral. This
fine specimen of pointed Sicilian work is dedicated to S. Maria Assunta,
and was commenced in the twelfth century when Gualterio Offamilio,
Walter of the Mill, was the English archbishop of Palermo. The curious
architectural style of the building is due to the fact that it was
designed by a Norman and carried out by Moorish workmen. The Moor found
it impossible to leave out his native arcades and his battlements; and
the diaper pattern on the west façade recalls in design the decoration
of the east. The Saracenic capitals of the beautifully carved pillars of
the three doors of this façade are exceptionally good. Norman zig-zag
moulding embellishes the arches above. Niches filled with saints add to
the harmonious incongruity so subtly arranged by infidel workmen. A
noble tower at each corner rises in eight tiers, the three topmost being
open. Throughout these towers small arches are supported by little
marble columns with their corners rounded off in a bold way by ringed
pillars. They terminate in little turrets and pinnacles, which have
flames at their bases. To break all the flat surfaces of these, the
Eastern mind was constrained to put some sort of decoration, thus
carrying off the appearance of great weightiness; and so, square,
billet, lozenge, and nail-head patterns have been most admirably
introduced. The lower portion of the great tower across the street and
opposite the façade, and which forms part of the archbishop's palace, is
Saracenic, and was erected before the Northman's advent in Sicily. The
upper stages are the belfry. Despite the spires which all these towers
possess, there is something decidedly more Eastern than Northern in
their appearance. The arches that cross the street--so bold a feature in
the sketch--were put up in the twelfth century to sustain the palace and
cathedral whenever earthquake shocks occurred.
The cathedral is entered by the south porch. This is flanked by
twelfth-century towers, on the top of which are ugly white marble
figures, executed at a bad period. Three stilted arches of Moorish
design with cable mouldings, the central arch larger than the other two,
support a rather low gable. The face of this gable is covered with a
good scheme of decoration. The cornice is deeply cut with animals and
foliage, a porcupine and a hare being among the former. Four grotesque
Norman waterspouts break the string course between the cornice and a
beautiful flat arcade under the arches, on which are half-length figures
of saints and bishops. The wall beneath this and above the three arches
of the porch was evidently at one time covered with Arab designs in
black and red. Four grey marble pillars with their eastern capitals
support the arches; they came from the mosque which stood on the spot
where the cathedral was erected. The portal of the door itself is a real
masterpiece of intricate Moorish carving. Here pomegranates and palm
leaves occupy a prominent place. In the eighteenth century many
alterations occurred, and this grand and, from an architectural point of
view, deeply interesting church, was disfigured to a large extent. The
porch has suffered almost as much as the interior of the building. But
one tablet worth recording still exists in the former:
PRIM . SEDES . CORONA . REGIS . ET . REGNI . CAPUT
Thus runs the proud title of the city in the days when the kings of
Sicily were crowned in Palermo's cathedral. A row of white marble
figures stands on the exterior of the side chapels of the aisles. They
are bad. Little domes with glazed tiles also remind one of a later
period. These, with the big central dome over the crossing, were the
work of Fuga, a Neapolitan architect. In the alterations he carried out,
the battlements and the corbel tables under them were spared. The latter
are a very curious study in the physiognomy of the different races known
to the Normans when the cathedral was built. Executed by Arab workmen,
whose faith forbade them to portray the handiwork of Allah, their
accuracy is not unimpeachable. The east end is partly covered with flat
arcading, most elaborately carved with Arabic design, and partly with a
black and red pattern of the same character. The apse is not pierced by
any lights.
The white-washed classic interior is a great disappointment after the
rich brown and yellow stone of the exterior. But if, architecturally, it
fails to interest, historically it is concerned with the most brilliant
and prosperous period the city enjoyed. Turning to the left on entering
the cathedral by the south porch are the two chapels wherein stand in
solemn grandeur the mighty sarcophagi of the Norman and Swabian kings.
The remains of Roger, the first Norman ruler of Sicily, rest in a
porphyry sarcophagus supported by marble feet composed of four crouching
Saracens. The fine canopy above is incrusted with mosaic. Its pillars
are gilded and inlaid. The next tomb is that of Constantia, who was the
last of the royal line of Normans. She was the wife of the Emperor Henry
VI., and mother of Frederick II. By the side of this is the sarcophagus
of Henry VI. Very elaborately adorned is that which contains the remains
of Frederick II., and the body of Peter II. of Aragon. The lid of this
is carved with medallions of Christ, and the Virgin and child. All that
is left of Constance, wife of Frederick II., is in a Roman sarcophagus
which is recessed in a wall of the chapel. It is beautifully decorated
with a hunting scene in bas-relief. Standing against another wall is a
mediæval tomb, with a cowled figure between two shields, on which are
displayed the eagles of Aragon. It holds the ashes of William, Duke of
Athens, who was a son of Frederick of Aragon. All these tombs are not
only full of archæological interest in themselves, but when one reviews
the origin and history of the Norman occupation of the island, the
chapel in which they rest becomes one of the most historically absorbing
spots in the world.