Postcard
from Naples 4 - If you have
ever travelled in this part of southern Italy, you
have probably been here or at least close to it.
It's not actually in the gulf of Naples. You have to
go to the next gulf down, the gulf of Salerno and,
specifically, to the Amalfi coast.
That is, in fact, the town of Amalfi in the
background below. The clump of white buildings and
the "rock" out in the water are unmistakeable. The
city of Salerno is a few miles away, past that last
hill in the distance. The postcard is reproduced
from the original, Scoglio Amalfi con Il
Convento dei Cappuccini [The Amalfi Rock with
the Convent of the Capuchin Friars]. (Yes, they also
make a pretty good cappuccino, especially
now that the place is a 5-star hotel! (Fair warning.
This is not Motel 6. The rooms start north of 500
euros a night. The cappuccino is included.
That coffee/milk combo is called cappuccino,
by the way, because in color it resembles that of
the habit worn by these followers of St. Francis of
Assisi.) p.s. Don't ask for "a latte' because
you'll get a glass of milk.
I cheated a bit. I did figure out that it was
Amalfi, but I guessed way too early on the date. I
was thinking maybe 1790. Then I noticed the name
partially visible at the bottom—enough to make out
“Carelli.” There is an entire Carelli family of
landscape painter who worked in Naples in the 1800s.
This one, Raffaele Carelli (1795-1864) is identified
as the author of the above-named painting, done in
1829. He was a prominent member of the so-called "Posillipo School" and was
a professor at the Naples
Institute of Fine Arts. [At that link there is
a large image of this same view by artist Giacinto
Gigante, another artist of the Posillipo School.]
I wouldn't think that this card is the single
most famous view of Amalfi, but I've seen it many
times. What is strange – well, maybe not so strange
– is that this same scene has been painted and
photographed many, many times with different persons
at the center other than this Capuchin friar. You
see peasant women, musicians, even an old black
& white photo of a much less tranquil friar
(dark and surly) staring out at the camera—maybe
from 1900-1910. Now there are probably an incalculable number
of tasteless, self-aggrandizing selfies floating around.
(That gives me an idea.)
How
the monastery went from what you see (above) to the hotel
you see here (image, left) is perhaps the most interesting
part of the whole story and provides some insight into
Italian history, specifically the relationship between
church and state.The original building goes back
to 1212 and went through a few centuries in the hands of
the Cistercian order. It passed to the Capuchin
friars in 1583, and had a relatively normal existence. (I
remind you that the Capuchin friars of the Franciscan
order take a vow of poverty. I guess if you're going to be
poor, this is a pretty nice place to be it in.) Then came
the French Revolution and Napoleon,
and things went from poor to worse. All monasteries in
nations occupied by the forces of Napoleon were closed
(including in Naples in the very early 1800s, under the
rule of Murat). The friars left
the monastery and were not permitted to return until well
after the 1815 restoration of the European monarchies. The
friars returned to Amalfi in 1836. They were then evicted
again a few years after the unification of Italy (1861)
under the extremely anti-clerical government of the new
Italy. The town of Amalfi became the new landlords of the
property. They turned the whole thing into a Nautical
Academy, perhaps hoping to somehow relaunch the ancient
glory of Amalfi, one of the four medieval Italian maritime
republics (along with Venice, Genoa and Pisa). It served
in that capacity from 1866 to 1882 when it became a hotel.
Rome fell to the forces of the new Italy in 1870. With
that, the 1000-year-old theocracy known as the Papal States came to an end.
It was a difficult time for any clerical entity such as a
monastery. Most of them just went under, usually becoming
something else (hospital, school, hotel, the Naples city
hall, etc). The relations between church and state were
not settled until the Lateran treaty of 1929. By that
time, the Capuchin monastery in the postcard had been a
hotel for some years. New owners remodeled everything in
2002 and did a spectacular job. Now it is the Grand Hotel
Convento Amalfi. So grab that front table, get a book, put
on your habit (the hotel may refer to it as a "bathrobe")
get tranquil and smile. Say 'cheese'—or at least 'cappuccino'.
Hold it.