Last summer I visited the south of Italy. The city of Salerno was the base from which I visited Naples, Pompeii, the Amalfi Coast and a host of other sights in the vicinity. I also ventured north.
I was staying in the hills outside of Salerno, directly overlooking its moon-shaped gulf. The shot above is a view towards the south, with the coast stretching down to the ancient Greek colony of Poseidonia, later renamed Paestum by the Romans, which I visited later on.
This section of the city is comprised mainly of masses of concrete flat blocks. They were built to accommodate the baby boom after the war. In 1946, Salerno’s population stood at around 80,000. By 1976 it had doubled to 160,000. Today, it stands at around 135,000.
The drop is due to the south of Italy having one of the lowest birth rates in the West. Its fertility rate (the average number of babies each Italian woman can expect to have) has dropped from 2.66 in 1964 to 1.24 in 2020, according to a recent report in The Economist.
1. Lungomare
It was early July. The morning greeted me with news that, back in Britain, Boris Johnson was set to resign and a Tory leadership race was about to commence. I didn’t have time to read much about it, and instead caught a bus down to the central train station in Salerno. I bought a map and a mini guidebook.
A decent map is always the first thing I buy when I visit a new town or city. I find that tracking movements in pen is a good way of aiding recall and remembering where things are.
The guidebook was written by a Salerno local, Mario Papa. Much of the architectural information later on in this piece is derived from his little book.
From the station, I sauntered towards the coast and came to Piazza della Concordia, or Concordia Square, where I saw this monument.
I walked along the parade towards the ferry port, which can be used to reach towns along the Amalfi Coast to the north. This is a view of the coasts to the south.
In September 1943, these coasts served as the main landing point for Operation Avalanche, the Allied Invasion of Italy.
German forces had occupied most of Italy’s south, and the objective of the landings was to move north and secure the port of Naples. Setting off from Sicily and North Africa, British and American forces landed here in an effort to launch a surprise attack.
Surprise was out of the question. German divisions greeted them with a hail of artillery fire, and progress was slow. Hundreds died, thousands were wounded. Eventually, the Allies swept the coasts and pushed north towards Naples.
Salerno was briefly the capital of Italy for a few months, from February 11th to August 15th, 1944. Under General Badoglio, it became the new seat of government in the wake of the Fascist regime’s collapse.
Badoglio had risen to become Chief of Staff after the First World War. When Fascism emerged as a rising force in the early 20s, he had at first offered to “disperse Mussolini and his rabble with machine gun fire.” Instead, Mussolini was invited to form a government by the King, and Badoglio was assigned to Brazil to keep him out of trouble. Gradually, he grew to support the Fascist state, and was reassigned to Libya, before leading the campaigns against Ethiopia in the late 30s. When the Second World War broke out, Badoglio led the Italian invasions of France and Greece. Both were a failure. Mussolini was deposed in 1943 after Sicily was taken by the Allies. The King installed Badoglio as Prime Minister, and Italy signed a treaty to switch sides.
Here are a bunch of pictures I took of the boat harbour.
A striking feature of Italy’s south is its landscape. When driving from city to town, all around you you’re girdled by massive mountains and colossal hills, as seen here in the distance.
There’s not really anything like it in Britain, except perhaps in places like the Lake District.
Many people live on the slopes of these giant mounds. There are houses dotted all across them, each of them enwreathed in green foliage.
I wasn’t going to catch a ferry today, so I trekked back down the walkway towards the centre.
This guy was lapping up the sun on a bench.
I passed a small beach overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea.
The Tyrrhenians were pirates who patrolled these waters in ancient times, and were known to the Greeks and Etruscans who lived along the coasts.
I ambled along the Lungomare, or promenade.
Another lazy guy sat on a bench had splayed his arms out in a crucifixion posture to absorb the blazing streaks.
By now I was acutely aware that my skin had not evolved to deal with this sort of pounding heat, so I scurried under the shade of the trees.
I strolled through the gardens and along the tram tracks.
2. Into the Centre
I crossed the street, veered to the right, and went up a small back alley. In front of me was the Palace of Justice.
Outside is a statue of the liberal journalist and politician Giovanni Amendola.
Amendola was elected 3 times to the Italian Chamber of Deputies, representing Salerno. He is most famous for being one of the earliest opponents of Fascism. He coined the term totalitario – in English: totalitarianism – which he used at first to describe the Fascist regime’s attempt to create a total state, in which every aspect of political and social life was to be governed by doctrine. The term was then adopted by Fascist writers and remodelled as something positive.
He founded the newspaper Il Mondo, which was suppressed by the Fascists in 1926. He was beaten by blackshirt hitmen, and later died from the injuries.
Down the road slightly, is a statue dedicated to all the political martyrs of Salerno.
Nearby is this church.
I came to Piazza Flavio Gioia, a square named after the 14th century mariner who supposedly invented the sailor’s compass. If not its original creator, he is credited with improving it. He was born in Positano, further up the Amalfi Coast.
The square has a dolphin fountain, a symbol of Salerno’s kinship with the sea, and to the left of it is the Porta Nuova, or New Gate.
It is the entrance to the historical centre. It was built in 1754 by the famous Neapolitan marble cutter Francesco Ragozzino. A statue of the patron saint of Salerno, Saint Matthew, whose relics lie in the cathedral nearby, stands atop the gate.
I passed under it, and continued along, to Via Masuccio Salernitano.
This street was once known as Via Carraia, and it was the main street that linked the western part of the city with the east.
On street corners, there are numerous shrines like this.
They are known as Madonelle, and usually depict the Madonna, the Virgin Mary. They were installed by the Catholic Church over the centuries to watch over street intersections. They are said to deter criminality and remind would-be vandals of their religious obligations.
I reached Piazza Sant’Agostino, or Saint Augustine Square.
These gruesome identikit flat blocks were put up after the war.
I took a right, and walked up to Via Mercanti, the Merchant’s Street that has been a centre for shop-keepers since the Medieval era. I saw the church above along the way.
I met the narrow Vicolo San Bonosio, or Saint Bonosio Lane, named after the first bishop of Salerno. On the walls are extracts from poems by Alfonso Gatto (1909-1976), a famous poet from Salerno, who was an exponent of Hermeticism, a school of obscure, ambiguous, metaphorical poetry.
This is the Virtual Museum of the Salerno Medical School.
Salerno was renowned for medicine in the Medieval era. It became known as ‘the town of Hippocrates’ – the most prestigious source of medical information in Europe at the time. Its repute was largely thanks to the city’s position as a Mediterranean port. Medical books from the Arab world arrived by sea, which served as a springboard for intense study. Scholars came from far and wide. It opened the way to the empirical method, pioneered the study of anatomy, and promulgated the new art of surgery. Rogerius Salernitanus wrote the first European surgical textbook here in the 12th century. It is also famous for having the first known female doctor, Trotula de Ruggiero. The school had multiple premises throughout the city.
Opposite is Palazzo Pinto, or the Pinto Palace, which is now the Provincial Art Gallery. This is its entrance.
This is the Chiesa del Crocifisso, Church of the Crucifixion.
At the beginning of Via Mercanti is Piazza Portanova, or Portanova Square. This is where the famed Saint Matthew Fair took place, and it was also the site of public executions. The white church to the left is Chiesa di San Pietro in Vinculis, or the Church of Saint Peter in Vinculis. It was one of the only places where prisoners could go for assistance. Since 1958, it has been home to a group of nuns called ‘the daughters of the Church.’
From Piazza Portanova, I made my way up through a backstreet route towards the cathedral.
Despite the sheer volume of beautiful historic buildings in Italy, every city you visit is caked in tons of shitty graffiti like the stuff above.
The Archeological Museum was a place I wanted to visit, but unfortunately there wasn’t enough time. This is the building from the rear.
I came to the Chiesa di San Michele, or the Church of Saint Michael.
And then I continued along a side street with a stone wall.
3. The Cathedral
I approached the Cathedral.
The bell tower came into view.
It dates back to the 12th century, is 52 metres high with a base of 10 metres on each side. It was built in the Arabic-Norman style.
Next to it is the Archbishop’s Palace.
It dates back to about the 12th century. It has been restored multiple times, with medieval decorations discovered. It includes a large temple hall dedicated to Pomona, the goddess of fruit and abundance.
Approaching the entrance to the cathedral, there is an inscription on the architrave over the door.
“Dux et Jordan dignus princeps Capuanus regnent eternum cum gentis colente Salernum”
Translation: ‘The leader, and Jordan, worthy prince of the people of Capua, may reign forever with the people who live in Salerno.’
The ‘leader’ in question was Robert Guiscard.
Guiscard was an adventurer, born into the Hauteville family in Normandy around 1015. He came of age during the great Norman expansions of the 11th century. The Normans arrived in Italy initially as pilgrims. Pilgrim stories spread back to the homeland, and the Normans later entered Italy as warriors.
The south of Italy had been under constant bombardment from Muslim armies, known at the time as the ‘Saracens.’ The coasts of south Italy are to this day lined with watchtowers that were used for detecting Saracen ships.
Under the leadership of Guiscard and his brother, the Normans captured Sicily and Malta from the Muslims. Acting as the vassal of Pope Gregory VII, Guiscard conquered the south of Italy and drove the Byzantines out.
In 1076, after a 7 month siege, he conquered the city of Salerno. He ejected the Lombard prince Gisulf II, and installed himself as prince.
The entrance to the cathedral is known as the Lion’s Door, due to the statues guarding either side. The lion to the left has a suckling cub (not seen in this photo), which symbolises charity.
The lion to the right is a symbol of strength.
I stepped through the Lion’s Door into the atrium, with columns of granite and porphyry enclosed in a four-sided portico.
Guiscard ordered the construction of the cathedral the same year he conquered Salerno, as a peace offering to those who had endured the siege.
Immediately to the right are some double doors leading to a room where it is said Saint Thomas Aquinas later taught Theology.
Aquinas had left Paris for Italy in 1259. He was in Naples in 1260, and it is surmised that he travelled the surrounding areas preaching and teaching. By this time, Salerno was known for its excellence in medicine. It is likely that Aquinas visited the city during its age of medical prominence.
Mario Papa’s guidebook that I bought earlier provided a swathe of information about this area.
The atrium has 28 columns, each with a different capital.
The cathedral took 8 years to build and was completed in 1084. It was consecrated by Pope Gregory VII, in exile in Salerno at the time, having been evicted from Rome by the German king Henry IV.
The upper round of arches (seen to the right above) are decorated with polychromatic inlaid works made from volcanic stone and grey tufa, and it has a series of five-lancet windows.
The fountain, now covered in flowers, is an old baptismal font. The original fountain that once rested here was snatched by the Bourbon King Ferdinand IV in 1820, taken to Naples and placed in the town park.
The cathedral is dedicated to St. Matthew the Evangelist, and was built on the area containing his relics and tomb, along with other town saints: Saint Gaio, Saint Ante, and Saint Fortunato.
The bronze door was made in Constantinople (now Istanbul) in 1099.
It was a gift to the city from Landolfo and Guisana Butrumile, who I assume were Byzantine nobles (I can’t find much info about them online).
To the left of the door is a marble plaque with four lines from a poem by Gabriele D’Annunzio, dedicated to the people of Salerno.
Those of Salerno, with their lunate gulf, the Norman arches all bronze and silver, the door of Guise and of Landolfo, they have in their heart…
D’Annunzio was a famous philosopher poet of the early 20th century.
He is famed for a notable incident. After the First World War, his nationalist leanings had profoundly intensified. When the port city of Fiume (in modern-day Croatia) was about to be taken out of Italy’s hands during the Paris Peace talks, he led an army of Italians who lived in the surrounding countryside in an effort to seize it. The city was blockaded. He proclaimed it an independent state, declaring himself as its de facto Dictator. This episode was a foreshadowing, a prototype, a precursor of what was later to arise in Rome with Mussolini and the Fascist Party.
Here is the bell tower from another angle.
The balcony over the bronze door has three 18th century statues by Matteo Bottiglieri.
Saint Gramazio, a bishop of Salerno.
Saint Matthew the Evangelist, of Gospel fame.
Saint Bonosio, the first Bishop of Salerno.
Turning around, this is a view of the quadrangle.
Around the porch there are Romanesque urns and sarcophagi reused by noble families.
I entered the Cathedral through a small door to the left.
On the other side of the bronze door is a mosaic of Saint Matthew.
The items inside are gracefully decorated with floral patterns.
The symbol of the peacock is seen above. Ancient legend had it that the peacock’s flesh did not decay, and that its tail feathers were constantly renewed each year. It thus became a symbol of immortality and the resurrection, and can be spotted on a lot of Christian art and imagery.
The hall is divided into three naves, separated by columns.
The central nave, and its apse at the back, has mosaics from 1954. It features the Virgin Mary in the middle with Saint Gregory VII and the archbishop Alfano I at either side.
Beneath The Virgin Mary is an angel, hovering over a throne, with Robert Guiscard kneeling to the left of it offering the cathedral as his gift to the city, and his wife Princess Sichelgaita on the right, praying.
The other 8 figures are all the Popes that Salerno hosted. From left to right: Clement II, Leo IX, Victor III, Alexander II, Urban II, Paschal II, Callisto III, Alexander III.
This is the mosaic on the apse to the right.
It features an angel, with Saint Matthew sat on a throne below. Saint Fortunato and Saint John are to the left, and Saint James and Saint Lawrence to the right. The tiny yellow figure praying to the left of Saint Matthew on the throne is John from Procida, a doctor in the Salerno School of Medicine, who paid for the mosaic.
This is the apse to the left.
It has two frescos, depicting the Baptism of Christ and the Fall of Manna from Heaven.
From here, I backed up along the nave and found the entrance to the crypt, where the remains of Saint Matthew are kept. I descended the stairs and stepped foot in one of the most beautiful rooms I’ve ever seen. An opulent, palatial hall with a superabundance of art and imagery.
To be continued…
On the next travel post I will cover the crypt, along with the rest of the city’s sights.
D’Annunzio, like Marinetti, understood radio as a force for destruction. Marconi, who referred to radio waves as "fasces," did not eschew the association of early fascism, Marconi embraced it. His visit to see D’Annunzio and ride around Fiume in his car is quite famous. An early indicator of the role radio would play in modern warfare.
These pics look incredible, thanks for sharing