Church of the Croce di Lucca
La Croce di Lucca: The Baroque Jewel Rescued by History
Hidden in the heart of the university citadel, wedged between the modern buildings of the Policlinico (General Hospital), lies a survivor. It is the Church of Croce di Lucca, an extraordinary chapter of Neapolitan Baroque that risked being erased forever by the march of progress.
Its story begins in the 16th century, when the powerful community of merchants from Lucca brought to Naples the devotion to their most sacred symbol: the "Volto Santo" (Holy Face), an ancient and mysterious wooden crucifix venerated in their cathedral.
Founded in 1537 as an austere, strictly cloistered Carmelite monastery by the devout Cremona Spinelli, it was a place so simple it was nicknamed "La Crocetta" (The Little Cross).
Everything changed in the seventeenth century. The original austerity gave way to incredible splendour. The austere convent was transformed into a "jewel of the Baroque" thanks to massive (and self-interested) funding from Prince Nicolò Giudice, who went so far as to treat the monastery almost like a "family fiefdom" just to see it shine. To enter today still means admiring the remnants of that splendour: the precious marbles and, above all, the marvellous carved and gilded coffered wooden ceiling.
But the true soul of Croce di Lucca is not in its gold; it is in its resilience.
At the dawn of the twentieth century, progress seemed to have condemned it. The plans for the construction of the new University Clinics called for its total demolition. The church, with its centuries of history, was simply meant to disappear.
It was then that a passionate cultural battle began. A "group of friends of art," led by the indefatigable defender Benedetto Croce, strongly opposed the plan. Croce wrote fiery appeals, calling the demolition "a disgrace," and mobilized intellectuals and politicians, such as the Director-General of Fine Arts Corrado Ricci, to save the monument.
The church won its battle against the "wrecking ball," but not without paying a price. To make space for the new buildings, its magnificent 17th-century tribune was cut down, sacrificed.
Today, deconsecrated and part of the University's heritage, Croce di Lucca is not just a masterpiece of art. It is a monument to the passion of those who believe that beauty is as necessary as progress. It is a proud scar that tells the story of Naples' love for its memory.
