Il Cimitero delle Fontanelle

May is the "Month of Monuments" in Naples, a month where exhibits that are normally closed are briefly opened to the public (usually for free). Anything cultural is highlighted: painting and sculpture, theater and dance, architecture and the vast underground of the city.

Last Saturday, my neighbor and his Italian girlfriend invited me on a trip to one of the area's most prized catacombs. I hated to leave Alan's baseball team with one less fan, but I had two reasons to check out the cimitero: (a) I was always intrigued by the Parisian catacombs--they provide an eerie reminder of just how fleeting our lives are--and (b) this particular network of catacombs is open just two days this year.

What a treat! It was just as fascinating as I thought it would be, especially given the free tour we were offered. Everything was in Italian, so I tried my hardest to follow along. When I didn't get something, my Italian friend would help me out with the translation. One thing's for sure: I will never forget the word for skull!



Many of the skulls are housed in little boxes, or whatever their caretakers could afford. (In one case, a box of biscuits). Usually the inscription reads ex voto or per grazia ricevuta: that is, in return for watching over the remains, the caretakers expected to receive some sort of grace or luck from God. It goes without saying that Neapolitans are very superstitious.

One of my favorite parts of the visit was hearing a few local legends. One skeleton in particular had been preserved in its entirety. Because of the position of the body and its gaping mouth, legend holds that the poor woman died by choking on a nut. (The real cause of death was probably a stroke). Elsewhere, there is one special skull that, despite going months or years without cleaning, never seems to build up any dust. Its owner was apparently a patron saint of pregnancy and childbirth, and women from all over would come to touch the skull for its positive effects on their fertility.



At the end of one hallway there is a little mound of skulls in front of three large crosses. Behind this, a window allows the sun to peek through and play with the effects of light and dark. Here we were told perhaps the most frightening legend of all: the skull inside the box on top of the mound belonged to an important military captain. One day, a young couple decided to, ah, express their love for the first time in these catacombs. (Apparently that was the romantic thing to do back then...) The captain appeared to them and started talking; the young fidanzati replied with the only logical answer: they invited him to their upcoming wedding (?!). Lo and behold, the wedding day arrived and with it came one guest unknown to all--a black-cloaked figure. When the newlyweds inquired as to his identity, he opened his cloak to reveal the skull from the catacombs. Unfortunately, everyone present was struck with such fear that they all perished immediately...

All in all, it was a gripping visit. Though haunting, there is something very sacred about seeing piles and piles of human bones and skulls. The Neapolitan lore, along with the artful arrangement of reliquaries and the intriguing play of light and dark, were a special added bonus. I will definitely be checking out more Neapolitan catacombs--there are a bunch to choose from.