their culture and flee at the approach of the next enemy. The Normans were followed by the rule of the Swabians, who then fell to Charles of Anjou, who quickly branded the area surrounding the city as his own, crowning it the Kingdom of Naples. The Aragonese period, which began in 1441 and lasted until 1503, brought about cultural upheaval and the building of the great works of architecture, a few of which Steve Connors could still see from his post. Then came the arrival of the Spaniards, who ruled until the Austrian takeover in 1707, who then ceded the city to the Bourbons in 1734.
By the eighteenth century, Naples had grown into the most populated city in Europe, one to which other national leaders would point to as the urban ideal. This moment of glory was not to last, however, as the city was brought to its knees by two blood-drenched and bitter revolutions. The Parthenopean Revolt began as a battle between intellectuals and ended with the cream of Neapolitan culture hanging by their necks. The French arrived with yet another revolution, this one led by Napolean’s brother, Joseph Bonaparte. After the Bonapartes were handed their European walking papers, the city was delivered back into the hands of the Bourbons. It was under their rule that the Camorra, the Neapolitan Mafia, first began to organize, initially giving themselves the less-sinister-sounding name of the Fine Reformed Society. They built a steady network, one that would never relinquish its power, maintaining an iron grip on the city through every passing decade, regardless of what foreign powers entered its gates, bending only slightly to Mussolini’s rule. To this very day, the members of the Camorra remain the undeclared kings of Naples, immune even to the outbreak of war and the evacuation of its people.
Finally, on September 7, 1860, Giuseppe Garibaldi took control of the city, the first Italian to do so since the time of the Romans. It was to remain under the unsteady reign of Italian hands until the first of the Nazi bombs came crashing down.
The turbulence of its history has contributed to the complexity of the Neapolitan character. The men are, by nature, cynical and have little respect for authority. A close-knit group, they are distrustful of strangers. They look with dubious eyes at even the most benign acts, knowing that behind each kind gesture lurks the potential for betrayal. Within their own country they are disliked, dismissed as shiftless, lazy and brimming with criminal intent. They wear the stripes of national hatred as a badge of civic honor.
The women are fiery and loud, ruling over their children and younger siblings with tightfisted control. They are passionate in both love and anger and are not afraid to display their emotions in public, unlike their more educated counterparts to the north. They love to sing; fine, textured voices bellowing out mournful words to typically sad, Neapolitan ballads from “Soli, Soli Nella Notte” to “Un Giorno Ti Diro.” Most of the songs are tearful reminders of loves lost and lives burdened by the weight of poverty and illness. Neapolitan women are stubborn, religious and superstitious, believing in the magical healing powers of both saints and sinners. They attend church and lay down a gypsy’s curse with equal abandon.
The complex genetic mix of so many different countries invading their city has given the women a distinct look, one that makes it possible for them to blend together as one on the streets of Naples and to stand out in a crowded marketplace in Milan. Their hair is dark and usually kept long, their eyes almond-shaped and the color of Greek olives. Their smile is wide and expressive and their laughter is as rich and textured as the red wine they are not shy about consuming. They grow old with comfort, wearing their age with as much pride as they would a rare new dress. Advancing years bring a firmer grip on their family rule, and they hold on to this control with dictatorial
By the eighteenth century, Naples had grown into the most populated city in Europe, one to which other national leaders would point to as the urban ideal. This moment of glory was not to last, however, as the city was brought to its knees by two blood-drenched and bitter revolutions. The Parthenopean Revolt began as a battle between intellectuals and ended with the cream of Neapolitan culture hanging by their necks. The French arrived with yet another revolution, this one led by Napolean’s brother, Joseph Bonaparte. After the Bonapartes were handed their European walking papers, the city was delivered back into the hands of the Bourbons. It was under their rule that the Camorra, the Neapolitan Mafia, first began to organize, initially giving themselves the less-sinister-sounding name of the Fine Reformed Society. They built a steady network, one that would never relinquish its power, maintaining an iron grip on the city through every passing decade, regardless of what foreign powers entered its gates, bending only slightly to Mussolini’s rule. To this very day, the members of the Camorra remain the undeclared kings of Naples, immune even to the outbreak of war and the evacuation of its people.
Finally, on September 7, 1860, Giuseppe Garibaldi took control of the city, the first Italian to do so since the time of the Romans. It was to remain under the unsteady reign of Italian hands until the first of the Nazi bombs came crashing down.
The turbulence of its history has contributed to the complexity of the Neapolitan character. The men are, by nature, cynical and have little respect for authority. A close-knit group, they are distrustful of strangers. They look with dubious eyes at even the most benign acts, knowing that behind each kind gesture lurks the potential for betrayal. Within their own country they are disliked, dismissed as shiftless, lazy and brimming with criminal intent. They wear the stripes of national hatred as a badge of civic honor.
The women are fiery and loud, ruling over their children and younger siblings with tightfisted control. They are passionate in both love and anger and are not afraid to display their emotions in public, unlike their more educated counterparts to the north. They love to sing; fine, textured voices bellowing out mournful words to typically sad, Neapolitan ballads from “Soli, Soli Nella Notte” to “Un Giorno Ti Diro.” Most of the songs are tearful reminders of loves lost and lives burdened by the weight of poverty and illness. Neapolitan women are stubborn, religious and superstitious, believing in the magical healing powers of both saints and sinners. They attend church and lay down a gypsy’s curse with equal abandon.
The complex genetic mix of so many different countries invading their city has given the women a distinct look, one that makes it possible for them to blend together as one on the streets of Naples and to stand out in a crowded marketplace in Milan. Their hair is dark and usually kept long, their eyes almond-shaped and the color of Greek olives. Their smile is wide and expressive and their laughter is as rich and textured as the red wine they are not shy about consuming. They grow old with comfort, wearing their age with as much pride as they would a rare new dress. Advancing years bring a firmer grip on their family rule, and they hold on to this control with dictatorial
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