Full resolution (JPEG) - On this page / på denna sida - VIII. Naples
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handed down from father to son ever since the
epidemic of 1834 when, in collaboration with San
Gennaro, it had saved the city. Another
speciality of the Farmacia was a mysterious bottle
labelled with a heart pierced by Cupid’s arrow,
a filtro d’amore. Its composition also was a
family secret, it was much in demand, I
understood. Don Bartolo’s clients seemed chiefly
drawn from the many convents and churches
round his street. There were always a couple of
priests, monks or frati sitting on the chairs before
the counter in animated discussion about the
events of the day, the last miracles performed by
this or that saint and the efficacy of the various
Madonnas, La Madonna del Carmine, la Madonna
dell’Aiuto, la Madonna della Buona Morte, la
Madonna della Coléra, l’Addolorata, la Madonna
Egiziaca. Seldom, very seldom, I heard the
name of God mentioned, the name of His Son
never. I once ventured to express my surprise
to a shabby old Frate who was a particular friend
of mine over this omission of Christ in their
discussions. The old Frate made no secret of his
private opinion that Christ owed his reputation
solely to His having the Madonna for His Mother.
As far as he knew, Christ had never saved
anybody from the cholera. His Blessed Mother
had cried her eyes out for Him. What had He
done for Her in return? “Woman,” He said,
“what have I to do with Thee?”
“Perciò ha finito male, that’s why He came to
a bad end.”
As Saturday approached the names of the
various saints and Madonnas dropped more and
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