Italy’s Versailles: Reggia di Caserta
Follow the salty breeze 40KM past cruise ships docked at Molo Beverello through energetic Neapolitan streets and you’ll arrive at the Reggia di Caserta. The 18th century palace welcomes you with grand Baroque architecture. Two wings protrude from both sides of the main building like arms closing in to embrace you — it’s hard not to draw a connection to Bernini’s colonnades at St. Peter’s.
Caserta, the town that hosts the former residence of the Prince of Naples, is a short train ride from the Napoli Centrale train station. Leaving the noise and chaos behind, I boarded the 9:34 local train to Caserta. Twenty-seven minutes later I arrived there, and to my surprise the palace was directly adjacent to the train station. I later learned that the royal family had the train installed to transport goods directly from boats docked in the Gulf of Naples to the palace’s doorstep. Now instead of offloading Spanish silver, the trains are transporting Caserta’s new economic driving force- tourists.
I, however, did not arrive in Caserta during the optimal summer months but rather in mid-January and was greeted with a smack of cold sea air upon my exit from the train carriage. Being that it was off-season, I happened to be the only person in sight on the palace grounds.
The Reggia is a sleeping beauty of a bygone time. A part of history that has been eclipsed by sights in Rome and Florence deemed as more significant in the art historical canon. I was surprised that I stood in front of one of the most impressive feats of baroque architecture and that I had the entire palace to myself.
Prior to my research into Italian UNESCO sites I had never heard of the Reggia di Caserta. Why? It’s possible that because of Italy’s rich cultural history that all of my art history professors had decided to skip over it. The other reason it has been neglected both physically and in history is likely due to corruption in the area. Caserta lies in Campagnia, the Camorra Mafia’s stronghold. In Naples, bribery and corruption are the language of the land. Under the tutelage of past directors funding for restoration, research and promotion of the palace was at best misallocated.
The future of the palace is looking up after the appointment of the new director, Mauro Felicori, and a forty-million euro grant from the Italian Ministry of Culture. The Reggia di Caserta and surrounding gardens are poised for a renovation.
The palace has seen several world powers come and go. It was designed by architect Luigi Vanvitelli as the home for King Charles III of Naples. Charles never spent a night at the palace, instead abdicating his throne to become King of Spain in 1759. The project continued under the direction of his son, Ferdinand IV of Naples. Ferdinand fled Naples for Sicily during Napoleon Bonaparte’s invasion of the Italian mainland. Caserta and Naples were left under the control of the French dictator’s family until 1814 when Napoleon was defeated. Ferdinand returned to Caserta where he united Sicily with Naples, under the Kingdom of Two Sicilies which lasted from 1815 to 1860. In 1861, the Italian peninsula was invaded yet again, this time by The Kingdom of Sardinia creating the new Kingdom of Italy. From 1922 to 1943, under the direction of Benito Mussolini, the National Fascist Party ruled over The Kingdom of Italy. Calabria and other southern states experienced severe poverty and economic decline. Reggia di Caserta became the training headquarters for the Italian Air Force during World War II and experienced heavy bombing and neglect.
On my first visit to Caserta I fell in love with the grand architecture and sweeping gardens but was surprised by its current condition. Walking along the central passage toward the main building I noticed that the two wings flanking the main building were hollowed out shells decorated with Italian graffiti. These building which were directly inspired by Bernini’s wings at St. Paul’s Cathedral in Rome, originally served as horse stables.
I was there to meet the Director of Education and Marketing, Vincenzo Mazzarella, to discuss current restoration projects. I had been told to arrive at the palace at 10:00AM, but given no further instructions. Luckily, I found a guard posted in the courtyard who pointed me to the wing that housed the offices. After passing several busy employees and mumbling through basic Italian I found Mazzarella’s office.
I met Mazzarella’s colleague, Luigi Iodice, whose rapid fire Italian was translated by a very helpful intern. I learned more about the current restoration and marketing efforts taking place at the Reggia. Under the governance of a new director, the palace and Caserta have a ten year plan for economic regeneration which includes the implementation of a high-speed rail-road for tourists. Iodice took me on a tour of the palace while explaining the anticipated improvements along the way, luckily my translator accompanied us. His passion and excitement for the palace was contagious. We began our visit at the marble staircase that has been the featured as the backdrop for several major films including Star Wars. I happened to visit on a day when the palace was closed to the public, leaving just the three of us wandering the halls unaccompanied by the chatter of tourists.
We made our way to the opulent throne room which is covered from the floor to the ceiling with gilded neoclassical and rococo designs. This space is where the King of Naples would have met with the public, and thus the power and majesty of the monarch were displayed. Since I was visiting on a day that the palace was closed to tourists most of the building was dim, the lights kept off to conserve energy. We quickly walked through the private rooms of the king and queen, using the flashlights from our iPhones to guide us around the 17th century furniture. Maybe it was the silence or the darkness, but in that moment I felt transported back to the time of Ferdinand’s reign.
When we reemerged from the king’s private apartments Iodice suggested we visit the chapel. He explained how the palace was transformed into a military base during World War II and showed me the damage from bombs that were dropped overhead. Following the patterned marble up the walls you will find a row of columns scarred from the impact. The columns were left that way to serve as a reminder of what the palace and its surrounding community experienced during the war.
I had the unique opportunity to visit the conservation lab on site at the Reggia, which is never open to the public. Walking from the chapel across one of the interior courtyards, Iodice guided me to the ground floor conservation studio. The room smelled of chemicals and oil paint. The conservationist was in the midst of several projects at various stages of completion from simple cleaning of canvases to replacement of entire sections of a painting. I learned that the studio not only restores artwork and antique furniture from the palace but also receives commissions from collectors in the region, being one of the only conservation labs in Caserta. The conservator showed me a 19th century painting of a group in Arabic clothing playing chess, he pointed out where the original painting had flaked off and where he had meticulously drawn in the signature lines used by restorers. From here I thanked Iodice, the conservator and my invaluable translator for their time and ventured back out into the chilly sea air.
Walking from the palace and its grand gardens I was excited about the restoration efforts under way. I thought of the layers of history and the rise and fall of kingdoms in Naples and understood that The Reggia di Caserta’s storied history represents the resilient spirit of the people of Calabria.