Naples: The Siren, the Queen and the Poetess

PARTHENOPE

Legend has it, that the South Italian city of Naples, built so precariously close to the furious volcano Vesuvio, stands where once the dead body of the Siren Parthenope had been washed ashore. Lovesick, the sweet-voiced maiden had drowned herself in the waves. In Naples, not even the Sirenes are immortal.

MARIA CAROLINA

The teenage princess was appalled. At the court of Vienna, Maria Carolina, second youngest daughter of the empress of Austria, had been educated in contemporary erudition. She spoke five languages. She knew how to dance, to fence, to ride and act with confidence. But now her mother Maria Theresia, the matriarch who led both her empire and her family with an iron fist, wed her off to Ferdinand, King of Naples.

Everybody knew that King Ferdinand of Naples was an illiterate fool. The only language he mastered was Neapolitan, the language of the street. He was dubbed the Re Lazzarone, the king of the mob. On top he was ugly. He had no manners. He liked to kill fenced animals and call it hunting. He grabbed his concubines by their private parts. He shat where he ate.

Maria Carolina begged her mother to let her stay in Vienna. She cried. She screamed. She held on to her favorite sister, Maria Antonia. In vain. The empress was adamant. Off she sent her daughter to the Mediterranean Sea.

Sailboat in the Gulf of Naples

King Ferdinand had ascended the thrown at the age of eight, and the decision to keep him uneducated was a political one. His father, King Carlos of Spain, didn’t want him to be a strong leader, but rather a compliant place holder. The state business was run behind closed doors by a council reporting to the Spanish court – a council that dutifully taxed Italian lands to finance the Spanish wars. An innocuous sixteen-year old virgin from Vienna was deemed the perfect queen for this kingdom at the outskirts of Europe.

Cobble Stoned Street

The immediate consumption of her marriage upon her arrival in Naples was probably the most painful, but not the only shock Maria Carolina had to endure. The Southern sun was scorching and the Royal Spanish etiquette as stiffling and serious as the cobble-stoned city was noisy and chaotic. On top, Maria Carolina discovered that the kingdom was rundown, held in a tight grip by organized crime, by a corrupt clergy and a decadent aristocracy. The treasury was nearly depleted. The military was at the brink of collapse. Diseases ravaged through the filthy streets and the poor were starving. To her husband their misery was entertainment. In front of the Royal Palace he had a scaffolding erected, decorated with live animals and food, the so called Albero della Cugagna. From his window he rejoiced at the sight of the poor fighting each other to the blood, often killing each other over a pig, a hen or a loaf of bread. The young Queen was appalled. But not disheartened, she was after all a trained queen.

Discounted Baby Jesus

Maria Carolina dutifully bore heirs to the king (18 in the 20 years to come), the first son Francesco opening her the doors to the council. She taught her husband to read and write. She established charitable institutions for the impoverished. She championed the arts. She planned workers’ residencies. Soon, Maria Carolina took over the reins of the kingdom and proved herself a capable politician and a strong-willed leader.

Ferdinand, Maria Carolina in the midst of their children

ELEONORA

At sixteen, Eleonora Fonseca Pimentel spoke five languages plus Latin and Old Greek. The extra-ordinarily intelligent young women, a daughter of Portuguese immigrants, had published poetry that afforded her the position of head librarian to the Queen of Napples, Maria Carolina, and opened her the doors to freemason societies and the intellectual circles of Naples: the highly acclaimed Accademia dei Filateli and the Arcadia.  

Throughout history, Naples had been a center of education and art. The famous Opera house Teatro San Carlo had opened its doors in 1735 (and never closed them again). Artists like Caravaggio and Bernini, musicians like Pergolesi and Scarlatti had found a home in the bustling cobble-stoned streets. In the 13th century already, a university had been founded, and scientists and scholars taught at numerous Academias. Now, in the late 18th century, the intellectuals of Naples reflected on the writings of Voltaire. Eleonora, who corresponded with various intellectuals, was inflamed by the ideas of the Enlightenment, and Voltaire by her. “The nightingale of beautiful Italy” he called her.

Eleonora had escaped a brutal husband, whose domestic violence also resulted in the death of her infant son Francesco. Now she searched to end the outrageous inequality in the kingdom of Naples. Eleonora engaged in social reformatory projects to improve the living conditions of the lazzaroni, the lower class.

The lazzaroni themselves however, were strongly opposed to these new ideas of equality and fraternity. They were profoundly catholic and superstitious. To science they preferred the miracles in their sparkling golden churches. To reformatory ideas they preferred the gruesome Albero dell Cuccagna. They adored their King, who lived unrestrained by political correctness or etiquette. The lazzari were in fact royalists.

In her Royal Palace, which had underground tunnels to various places in the city, Queen Maria Carolina secretly approved and even collaborated with the intellectuals of the Academia, she too was with the freemasons. She too wanted reforms. But then the unspeakable happened.

In Paris, the Jacobins had put her sister Maria Antonia, now called Marie Antoinette, on the guillotine. Maria Carolina was heartbroken over her sister’s death, whom she had never seen again after she left Vienna. She vowed to revenge her death. But Paris was far away, and so the Academia became her enemy.

Eleonora was thrown into jail and Maria Carolina turned into an ardent counter-revolutionary. She, who had favoured the arts and the freemasons before, now turned Naples into a police state, mobilized the army, set up a tight spy system. On the verge of paranoia, she employed food testers and slept in a different royal apartment each night. Then things got worse.

In 1798, on his conquering spree, Napoleon Bonaparte himself appeared in the gulf of Naples and it was thanks to Maria Carolina’s long relations with England, that the legendary Admiral Horatio Nelson came to her rescue. The liaison between the captain, his young lover Lady Hamilton and the Queen led to racy rumours – where the Admiral and the Queen lovers? Or the Queen and the young beautiful Lady Hamilton? Or were the three engaged in a ménage à trois? – These rumors were of course set into the world by the French, who, reckoning that it was Maria Carolina who ran the kingdom, and not her husband, tried to ruin her popularity with the people. True or not, the badmouthing failed. If anything, the people were entertained by the royal scandals.

Inside Teatro San Carlo

Eventually though, Admiral Nelson had other wars to tend to. He and Lady Hamilton left Naples, and without her protectors Maria Carolina, had to flee Naples. Too strong was the hate between the French and the Austrian Queen of Naples, to great the fear of the guillotine. The Royal couple escaped through one of their secret underground tunnels to the harbor and boarded a ship to Sicily. Whatever was left in the treasury, they took with them.

The King and Queen had deserted their people, but still the lazzaroni stood with them. The mob had assembled in front of the Royal Palace, demanding arms to fight the French themselves. But there were no arms for them, and so their hate against the Jacobins and the Enlightenment was their only weapon in the uneven battle against the French army. The bloody street fights left the lazzaroni dead by the thousands, and it took the French two days to declare victory.

Appalled and frightened by the bloodshed around her, Eleonora and the Academia had sought refuge in the Castel San Elmo, on top of the hill overlooking Naples. Now that the battle was over and the French successful, they announced the end of the monarchy and on January 21, 1799 they declared the Repubblica Parthenopea, a Republic modelled after the French République, named after the luckless Siren.

Castel San Elmo, seen from the Palazzo Reale, the Royal Palace

Eleonora believed in education. She was convinced that with some help, the lazzaroni, who had impressed her in their faith and determination, could achieve a higher cultural level. In the Monitore Napolitano, the Republican newspaper she published on her own, she appealed to the courage of all: Because freedom cannot be loved in half… and cannot produce its effects until everyone is free. She searched for conciliation between the Republicans and the Royalists. Their catholicism, their rituals, believes and even their superstition should not be ignored, she wrote. In vain. She disapproved of the radicalism of their French Sister Republic, who was now demanding taxes from her Italian sister Republic, very much like the Spanish had done before. Already Eleonora had second thoughts about the Revolution and the Repubblica Partenopea. But soon her mind was changed again.

After the Lazzaroni’s defeat, it was the farmers of the surrounding lands that took to arms, or rather took their axes and hoes marched into the city. Their rage and violence was unparalleled, their monikers telling of their brutality: Fra Diavolo (Brother Devil), Sciabolone (Big Sword) and Panzanera (Black Belly) ravaged through the streets. Centuries of oppression erupted in ire like lava flowing from Vesuvius. “Viva Maria!” they screamed as they pillaged through Southern Italy. It was in fact the church, in the person of Cardinal Fabrizio Ruffo, set as vice roy by Ferdinand before he fled, who had managed to bundle the farmers’ hate against the Republicans. Again, fearing for her life, Eleonora withdrew to Castel San Elmo, imploring her French brothers and sisters for help. In vain.

In the dilapidated Royal Palace in Sicily, Maria Carolina learned the news of Cardinale Ruffo’s victory. Yet she was consternated. Why had the Cardinale promised safe conduct to the Republicans when her sister’s death on the guillotine had not yet been revenged? Consumed by hate and rage, she again called on her friends, Admiral Nelson and Lady Hamilton.

Admiral Nelson did a good job. Accompanied by his sweet wife he entered the port of Naples just as Eleonora and the other revolutionaries were waiting to board a ship that would bring them safely to Toulon, as Cardinale Ruffo had promised. Instead, Nelson had them all arrested. Eleonora was condemned to death, and the intellectual scene of the city wiped out.

Details of Caravaggio’s Martyrdom of Saint Ursula, Museo Real di Capodimonte

Eleonora Fonseca Pimentel asked to be decapitated, a wish that was not fulfilled. One of 120 revolutionaries condemned to death in the aftermath of the Rebubblica Perthenopea, she was hanged on Market Square on August 20. The lazzaroni were waiting under the scaffolding, ready to peep under her skirt, as not even her most basic wish to tie her legs together with a belt was granted.  

“Long Live Carolina, Death to the Jacobina!” They chanted.

Six years later, in 1806, Maria Carolina had to flee Naples again. Napoleon had defeated the Austrians and crowned himself king of Italy. She travelled to Vienna, where she had to learn that in an effort to appease the French, her own grand daughter Maria Luisa was wed to no one else but Napoleon Bonaparte. Maria Carolina died in Vienna, in 1814, at the age of 64.

Legend has it, that as she stepped on the scaffolding, Eleonora Fonseca Pimentel quoted Virgil, the Roman Roman poet from Naples.

Perhaps one day this will be worth remembering

Detail of Caravaggio’s Seven Acts of Mercy, Chiesa Maria del Misericordia

Vienna: Mother Figures

In 1908, during archeological excavations close to the sleepy village of Willendorf, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, a tiny limestone figure depicting a voluptuous woman was found. The archeologists immediately recognized the value of the find, put it in a wooden box and delivered it personally at the imperial-royal Museum of Natural History in Vienna. The figurine became an archeological, historical and art sensation: the later dubbed “Venus Of Willendorf” turned out to be some incredible 29,500 years old. Hopes were high that the figurine would shed light on Stone Age and the beginning of human society. Yet, more than hundred years later the little woman remains a mystery. In her silence however she tells us more about us – and human nature.

The origins of the Venus remain unknown. The limestone she is carved out is not local, and the ochre she supposedly was painted with has long faded. She has no face, but an elaborate hairdo of seven concentric circles. She measures 11,5cm from the tip of her head to her ankles. The little woman has no feet, and never had. What she has instead is big buttocks, burly breasts, a billowing belly, and a prominent cleft between her thighs. She is without doubt a symbol of fertility. Fitting snugly in one hand, she was maybe a lucky charm, meant to be carried around.

But then again, if she was of a nomadic tribe, part of a group of hunters and gatherers, why was she obese, her arms thin and unfit to pick berries or dig for roots, and no feet to run from or after big animals? And if she was a token of procreation, why was she an older woman, instead of a young one at the pinnacle of fertility?

The terror birds roamed Earth in the Stone Age. This one roams the Museum of Natural History, Vienna, now residence of the Venus of Willendorf.

The Venus of Willendorf most likely was no lucky charm, but a totem of womanhood, the epitome of femininity, the antithetical man. Some researchers suspect the figure to be the self portrait of a female artist – her exaggerated proportions the foreshortening effect of self-inspection, her facelessness the result of the lack of mirrors. Others argue that the figurine does not depict a human woman at all, but a deity, a kind of Mother Earth. The Venus is maybe another proof that early societies were in fact matriarchies.

Whatever the truth behind the little figurine, the Willendorf woman was not the only, nor the oldest figurine found in the region in the 20th century. But she was and still is the most prominent. Something about her seems to resonate with (not only) Austrian culture. She is among the most popular archeological objects in the world – and definitely the prime attraction of the Museum Of National History in Vienna.

Museum of Natural History as seen from the twin Museum, the Museum of Art History. Both Museums were built in the style of Viennese Historism.

The Natural History Museum in Vienna dates back to 1750, when emperor Franz Stephan purchased the then largest collection of natural history objects from Chevalier de Baillou in Florence. This collection, assembled by noblemen and royals, comprised 30,000 fossils, snails, mussels, minerals and precious stones and made its way from Italy over the Alps by means of a mule caravan. The emperor was quite taken with his purchase. He visited the collection every day and furthermore financed expeditions around the world to ship home even more rare specimen of live animals, plants and stones.

Emperor Franz Stephan had enough time to indulge in his passion. It was up to his wife, Maria Theresia of Austria, to run the empire – and the family. The couple had sixteen children. Yet, it was exactly her being a supermom that turned her into a successful leader and business women. Despite her being a strict, authoritarian leader inspired by catholic fundamentalism, to the people of the empire she appeared gentle and big-hearted. Despite never having been crowned emporess, that’s what the people called her. Emporess Maria Theresia. She was their mother, a mother to nine nations. A mother of 50 million.

Another Mother Figure: Maria Theresa was mother to 16 and the rest of the monarchy.

Maria Theresia herself had no interest in natural history, but she recognized the importance of her husband’s collection when it came to mineralogy and the importance it possibly held for mining and exploiting raw materials from the soil. When Franz Stephan died, she donated the collection to the public. She hired a curator to create a museum (open by individual admission only, mind you) at her Imperial palace.

In the following 100 years, the collection kept growing and finally, under her great-great-grandson Emperor Franz Josef I, a new building had to be erected. The new Museum of Natural History, opened in 1889, is situated at Vienna’s pompous Ringstraße, facing its almost identical twin, the Museum of Fine Arts. In between the two imposing buildings, Maria Theresa sits enthroned as a bronze statue. A mere twenty years after the opening of the two museums, by 1918, the monarchy was history itself, but the two museums and Maria Theresia are still standing tall. As is the Venus of Willendorf.

Sunset in Vienna. Maria Theresia and a general in bronze, the museum of natural history in the background

After 29,500 years hidden in the soil, the Venus of Willendorf was condemned to her little wood box until 1989, when she was finally presented to the public. She now resides in her own little chamber on the second floor of the Museum, from where, through the windows, the visitor also has a good view of Maria Theresia, Emporess.

Vienna: No One Writes To The Emperor

 

“I am madly in love with you, virtuously or diabolically, I love you and I will love you to the grave,” his wife, Isabella of Parma, wrote. Unfortunately not to him, Emperor Joseph II, but to his sister, Marie Christine.

Joseph had married Isabella when they were both 18. His mother, Queen Maria Theresia of Austria, had set up the marriage to fortify the bonds between the Austrians and the Bourbons of France. That was how Maria Theresia did business. She used her children – of which she had sixteen – as merchandise.

The royal wedding was a flamboyant spectacle, the last baroque festivity of its kind, designed to impress the people with both empires’ unlimited wealth and military strength. Joseph was smitten with his bride, Isabella with her new sister-in-law.

Statue of Jospeh II at the Imperial Castle Vienna

Joseph II was Maria Theresia’s third child but first son and therefore the desperately awaited successor to the crown. The queen herself had inherited the title from her father for the sole reason that there were no male successors in sight. Now her first son filled her with pride and joy – the promise that the empire would soon have a male leader. She famously presented the new-born to the kings of Hungary, who in sympathy for the young mother, immediately took to arms and defeated the Prussians, Maria Theresia’s archenemy.

Joseph II opened the imperial parks to the publics, as well as the theatres, abolished censorhip and liberated the arts.

Other than that, Queen Maria Theresia spoiled and pampered her first son. He grew into an arrogant young man, who not only Isabella did not find charming. The people of the empire were not taken with him either. They despised his taciturn intellect, his fascination with the Enlightenment and rationality and preferred his mother, who despite being a conservative, catholic fundamentalist, appeared like their loving mother-figure.

After her husband’s death, Maria Theresa wore black for the remainder of her life.

At 24, after his father’s death, Joseph II was crowned co-regent of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy. He immersed himself in state business. “A monarch must be the first servant of his people,” he said. He traveled, studied ways of improving the monarchy, socially, economically and militarily. Yet, his ideas of reforming and modernizing the state were stalled by his mother, who after her beloved husband’s death remained frozen in the past, clad in black eternally.

Young Isabella, intelligent and educated, did not enjoy her role as baby machine. She was said to be plagued with melancholy and depression, and despite her love affair with Marie Christine, she was pregnant five times. Three pregnancies resulted in miscarriages. One girl survived only to die from small pocks at seven years old, and one girl’s birth was so complicated, she took Isabella with her to the grave. Joseph was heart-broken. He never recuperated from the loss.

Joseph II had a General hospital built in Vienna and the world’s first asylum for the mentally insane.

After his own mother’s, Queen Maria Theresia’s, death Joseph as a regent could finally realize his reformatory ideas: He installed the freedom of religion and limited the hitherto unlimited rights of the Catholic Church. He abolished serfdom and equalized the tax system. He abolished censorship and liberated the arts – Vienna turned into a heaven for musicians and Mozart and Beethoven settled in the city. He opened the universities to all religions, not only the Catholics, and the imperial theaters and parks to the public. He had general hospitals built and the world’s first asylum for the insane. And the people – still hated him. To the extent, that after his premature death at 49, most of his reforms were revoked. Not the serfdom, though, which could not be re-established.

While the nobles hated him, among farmers Joseph II was always popular. Even before his death. They just couldn’t deal with his progessive ideas regarding the Catholic church, whose rights he severly cut..

His eulogy left no doubt:

“Der Bauern Gott, der Bürger Not, des Adels Spott liegt auf den Tod”
“On his deathbed lies the peasants’ God, the affliction of the burghers and the scorn of the nobility”

a popular satirical verse went.

Joseph II had been ahead of his time. A few decades later, he was indeed venerated and a multitude of monuments were erected in his memory. But there was more writing in his honor.

After Isabella’s death, and another unhappy and unconsumed marriage  following mother’s wish, the widower Joseph remained single for the rest of his life, but frequented the whore houses of Vienna on a regular basis. One day in the year 1778, a prostitute refused herself to him and after some quarrel, the emperor Joseph II of Austria and Hungary was thrown out of a bordel in Spittelberggasse in the then suburbs of Vienna. Now, there was someone who wrote to the Emporer!

He came flying through this door

Joseph II, Emperor

 

Durch dieses Tor im Bogen kam Kaiser Joseph II. geflogen– 1778

Witwe Bolte, now an upscale restaurant, was once a brothel in Vienna’s redlight district. While the place underwent renovation, the 18th century inscription was left untouched.