Palazzo Firrao
The nucleus of this building with the
remarkable façade at Piazza
Bellini is from the early 1500s, although no
sources from that period still exist that might let us
know the precise date or the name of the architect. The
building was redone in the mid-1600s, and that, too, is
sketchy, although the best educated guess from people
who know about such things is that what one sees today
is largely the result of the busiest and greatest of all
Neapolitan architects from the 1600s, Cosimo Fanzago (1593-1678). At
work, too, was Jacopo Lazzari, who also worked on the
famous Capella Sansevero.
The name Firrao is of Norman
origin; the earliest bearers of this name in Italian
history were followers of Robert
Guiscard, the great Norman conqueror whose
exploits in the eleventh century paved the way for the
foundation of the Kingdom of Sicily (then to necome the
Kingdom of Naples). In 1600, when Naples was a Spanish vice-realm, Cesare
Firrao decided on the unique makeover of the façade to
show his devotion to the Spanish throne.
The façade is virtually an encyclopedia of
heraldic symbolism. I tried to understand the
terminology, but I have a low threshold of patience when
it comes to mantlings, swaggers, blazons, pendants and
rampant horsies. I am crestfallen at my ignorance. In
any event, it is all the collective effort of a number
of sculptors who worked on the building. The most
obvious element, of course, is the row of busts of
Spanish kings. They are, from left to right, Phillip IV
(1605-1655), Phillip II (1527-1598), Ferdinand II
(1467-1496), Charles V (1500-1588), Ferdinand III
(1452-1616), Phillip III (1578-1621), and Charles II
(1661-1700). The busts are not in chronological order
regarding the reign of the monarchs. Maybe Phillip IV is
first because he was the monarch at the time the
reconstruction of the building was undertaken. The last
one is in order: Charles II, the
“Little King,” the last Spanish Hapsburg, whose
death without an heir ended the empire and set off the
Wars of the Spanish Succession.
The building was almost destroyed during Masaniello’s Revolt in 1647 but was saved by archbishop Ascanio Filomarino, who apparently faced down the rebels in the streets and pointed to the bust of Charles V, the Holy Roman emperor and founder of the Spanish empire, a famously just person even —especially!— in the eyes of the mob clamoring for what essentially was simple relief from taxation. Filomarino gave them a "Let us work together in the spirit of Charles V" pep-talk. It worked. The property has changed hands various times over the years. It currently houses the administrative offices of the Naples aqueduct.