The Veiled Christ, Part 1

On the last Monday in April, the day after Easter Sunday, Elizabeth and I set off for a

chapel Len and June had recommended, the Sansevero Chapel (17th

& 18th

centuries). The

chapel is small but it contains some fantastic marble statues, including one that has been called

“one of the most fascinating and mysterious statues that you can see in Naples” and “one of the

most famous and impressive works of art in the world,” Christo Velato or, the Veiled Christ. We

thought there wouldn’t be much a crowd at the chapel on a Monday, but it turned out that this

was Easter Monday and a legal holiday in Italy. We would fight a crowd after all, the real test of

an experienced traveler.

Elizabeth had checked a map (she is the navigator in the family) and found that the

chapel was located to the northeast of our apartment, near the Piazza Dante, a large 19th

century

square named after the poet Dante Alighieri. It’s easy to identify because there’s a large statue

of Dante in the square. We first walked down to the area around the Gran Caffe Gambrinus,

Piazza del Plebiscito and the Umberto I Galleria with which we were now quite familiar. From

there we took Via Toledo, the main boulevard toward Piazza Dante. Via Toledo was crowded

with people, much like on a Sunday, most of them heading in the opposite direction from us,

toward Gambrinus, et al. In Naples, where there are lots of people, there are also bound to be

street performers (Photos 1 & 2).

Photo 1. A street band which sounded like it was professional.

Photo 2. A street artist who creates religious themes in chalk on the sidewalk.

When we got to Piazza Dante I thought we should ask someone for directions, but

Elizabeth pressed on and wouldn’t tell me the name of the church (I couldn’t remember, would

you believe?). Finally I was able to snatch the Sansevero Chapel brochure from her and I

showed it to the first couple I saw. The woman seemed to say she knew where it was and

Elizabeth thought she said they were coincidentally also going there. Whatever she may have

said we’ll never know but we nevertheless followed along behind them. They had a cute little

girl with them who reminded me of my daughter Sari when she was that age and that was enough

reason for me to follow (Photos 3 - 5).

Photo 3. The couple and child lead the way.

Photo 4. My daughter, Sari, c. 1970.

Photo 5. Father and daughter follow the mother.

Just as I was beginning to wonder whether we were on a wild goose chase, we arrived at

the Chapel (Photo 6 & 7). We had a short wait for tickets and then we went in.

Photo 6. The Sansevero Chapel, small and unpretentious on the outside, has been described as

“one of the most enigmatic chapels in Europe,” with some 28 separate works of art inside.

Photo 7. The Sansevero Chapel was modified from an older chapel and transformed by

Raimondo di Sangro, the 7th

Prince of Sansevero, to its “present level of refinement.”

The inscription over the door of the chapel (Photo 6) was in Latin with a date of 1613 (I

know my Roman numerals), though the original di Sangro family chapel, the Chapel of Santa

Maria della Pieta dates back to 1590. When we entered the chapel the crowd of people blocked

my view of the Veiled Christ (Photo 8), but it came to serve an important function. The crowd

was a convenient shield for photography which apparently, was discouraged in the chapel [I

didn’t see a sign myself (I studiously avoid reading such signs - to me they are like sun is to

Dracula), but Elizabeth said she saw one].

Photo 8. The Sansevero Chapel was crowded with people who initially blocked my view of the

main attraction [Note the two early Pietas, center, painting (above) and relief (below)].

I moved forward until I had a good view of the Veiled Christ, clearly a remarkable work

of art (Photo 9).

Photo 9. The Veiled Christ by Giuseppe Sanmartino, 1753.

Sanmartino did a decent job on the statue, but he was second choice as sculptor (Photo

10). Raimondo de Sangro, who commissioned the statue originally wanted a Venetian sculptor,

Antonio Corradini, to do the job and only chose Sanmartino, a Neapolitan, when Corradini died.

One can only imagine how great the statue would have been if Corradini had done it.

Photo 10. The order to Sanmartino was “a life-sized marble statue, representing Our Lord Jesus

Christ dead, and covered in a transparent shroud carved from the same block as the statue”.

Another significant sculpture at the Chapel was Disenchantment or Despair, a masterpiece

by Francesco Queriolo (Photo 11, right). Raimondo di Sangro dedicated Disenchantment to his

father, Antonio, Duke of Torremaggiore who spent most of his life in debauchery before living a

“priestly life” in his final years. The removal of the net from the figure in the sculpture is said to

represent “a man set free of sin”, the removal of sin from his father by good deeds (and an

example of wishful thinking by the son). See photographs by others of Disenchantment and La

Pudicizia (Veiled Truth) (Photo 12).

Photo 11. Other significant statues and reliefs, especially Disenchantment, on right).

Photo 12. Despair (or Disenchantment) (left) by Francesco Queriolo (photo, Philip Coppens)

and La Pudicizia (Truth, Modesty or Chastity) (right) by Antonio Corradini (photo, “dconlan”).

Raimondo di Sangro was an educated man, a Freemason and an inventor who was well

known for a number of ingenious inventions. Like Leonardo, he was also interested in the

human body and built two “anatomic machines”, a man and a woman in which the skeletons,

organs and blood vessels were said to be preserved by some now unknown process (Photo 13).

Photo 12. Visitors to the chapel studying Prince Raimondo di Sangro’s anatomic models.

The veiled (and netted) statues and the anatomic models are part of the reason the

Sansevero Chapel is such an enigma, though Raimondo de Sangro himself, clearly contributed to

its reputation. As a Freemason, inventor of unusual creations and an alchemist, he was viewed

with suspicion by the contemporary populace of 18th

century Naples. Some have speculated that

the veiled and netted statues were created by adding the veils after the statues were completed

using a chemical process which deposited calcium carbonate (marble) on them, but no one has

been able to replicate this. The process by which the anatomic models were created and

preserved for centuries is also shrouded in mystery. How were the bodies perfused (dead or

alive?) and what preservative could maintain their appearance, including eyes that shine to this

day? The Prince never explained his inventions and when something is unexplained, there is no

limit to the speculation by those who know not (One writer, however, claims “Analysis of the

‘blood vessels’ indicates they are constructed of beeswax, iron wire, and silk”).

When we left the Chapel, I was impressed by how much Naples reminded me of

Brooklyn. There was graffiti everywhere and like Brooklyn all the people sounded Italian. I was

interested to see a reference on a wall to one of my favorite rock albums, Dark Side of the Moon

by Pink Floyd, one of the most successful rock albums of all time (Photo 13). I wasn’t

particularly surprised to find that Pink Floyd’s fame had spread to continental Europe, certainly

not as surprised as I was years earlier when I saw a sign for a hotel outside Pushkar in India

which stated, “Wish You Were Here” (my all time favorite album by Pink Floyd).

Photo 13. Graffiti on the wall opposite the Sansevero Chapel.

A side door to the Chapel caught my attention before we left and I wondered what the

Latin inscription (dated 1767) over the door meant (Photo 14). It is said that the Prince’s goal in

transforming the chapel was to “to astonish, discover and teach”.

Photo 14. A side door to the Chapel with a Latin inscription, crossed bones and crowned skulls.

The Sansevero Chapel was located in the old historic section of Naples and we thought it

might be an interesting place to stay sometime. When we saw a sign “Le Vie Dell’Arte” on a

B&B (Photo 15), as people with artistic inclinations, we followed the arrow.

Photo 15. The neighborhood around the Sansevero Chapel was devoted to art.

The first bit of art we saw was a penis fish, the first of its kind I’d ever seen (Photo 16).

Photo 16. A wall painting of the Neapolitan penis fish, a rarity within its class.

A short distance from the penis fish, was another provocative painting (Photo 17).

Photo 17. A commercial advertisement for women’s thongs.

All this art was making me hungry so we looked around to see if there was a restaurant in

the neighborhood.

***

End of Part 1.

Ronald D. Nadler

May 26, 2011