DOI chapter:
Chapter II: Naples - The Museum - Capo di Monte
DOI Page / Citation link:https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.59000#0067
Naples
not far off, near Castellamare, is one of the centres of
naval construction, where frequently is seen a half-built
leviathan in the slips.
The Toledo seems a street without an end. Let
us branch off to the left and follow people into one of
the larger churches. There are few beautiful and
historic interiors, as in Rome or Florence ; but they
are interesting to those who would study another side
of Neapolitan character—the devotional. Take a chair
and sit quietly in the shade of a column, and you may
watch the poor steal in to some familiar place before
a shrine, and, after murmuring a few prayers, take up
their burden and go silently away. One man, who
has knelt devoutly before the little Altar laden with
gilt and gauze flowers, will go out and needlessly lash
his cart-horse. Another, perhaps a member of the
Camorra, will leave the confessional and commit some
petty theft. The woman who looks up at the effigy
of the Holy Child may lately have deserted her own
infant, as is so common among the poor women of
Naples. Their religion is poetry, not doctrine. They
are intelligent, but not reflective. Their ideas of eternal
punishment and reward are almost medieval, and in
their imagination the terrors of religion play a greater
part than the ethical teachings. Their sensibility to
such impressions may be illustrated by a story culled
from a Neapolitan newspaper the other day. A priest,
wishing to work upon his impressionable congregation
during a sermon upon future punishment, filled the
hidden parts of the church with men who groaned in
24
not far off, near Castellamare, is one of the centres of
naval construction, where frequently is seen a half-built
leviathan in the slips.
The Toledo seems a street without an end. Let
us branch off to the left and follow people into one of
the larger churches. There are few beautiful and
historic interiors, as in Rome or Florence ; but they
are interesting to those who would study another side
of Neapolitan character—the devotional. Take a chair
and sit quietly in the shade of a column, and you may
watch the poor steal in to some familiar place before
a shrine, and, after murmuring a few prayers, take up
their burden and go silently away. One man, who
has knelt devoutly before the little Altar laden with
gilt and gauze flowers, will go out and needlessly lash
his cart-horse. Another, perhaps a member of the
Camorra, will leave the confessional and commit some
petty theft. The woman who looks up at the effigy
of the Holy Child may lately have deserted her own
infant, as is so common among the poor women of
Naples. Their religion is poetry, not doctrine. They
are intelligent, but not reflective. Their ideas of eternal
punishment and reward are almost medieval, and in
their imagination the terrors of religion play a greater
part than the ethical teachings. Their sensibility to
such impressions may be illustrated by a story culled
from a Neapolitan newspaper the other day. A priest,
wishing to work upon his impressionable congregation
during a sermon upon future punishment, filled the
hidden parts of the church with men who groaned in
24