The Royal Nativity Scene of the Bourbon

Discover the monumental Bourbon Neapolitan nativity scene—featuring over 1,200 figures—which stands as a testament to the tradition of nativity scenes and court life at the Royal Palace of Caserta.

Description of the Royal Nativity Scene

This room, painted white and devoid of decoration, was intended for court entertainment. Today, it houses the Bourbon Nativity scene, which was recently restored after the majority of its figurines had been stolen. The Neapolitan Nativity tradition flourished under Charles of Bourbon in the mid-18th century, but especially under the collector King Francis I. It is said that Queen Maria Cristina of Savoy—now beatified—even wanted a small one to keep in her own room.

The custom of setting up a Nativity scene at the Royal Palace of Caserta became a tradition for the entire Court; it was created not only by artists and artisans but also by ladies-in-waiting and princesses, who were highly skilled at crafting costumes for the figures—whether shepherds, wealthy ladies, or Georgian merchants dressed in Oriental style—using multicolored San Leucio silks and filigree or coral jewelry.

Artists such as Bottiglieri, Sanmartino (creator of the famous *Veiled Christ* in the Sansevero Chapel), Mosca, Celebrano, Vassallo, and Gori participated in its creation; they modeled the most important figures in terracotta, while the others featured only terracotta heads and limbs attached to a framework of wire and tow. The figures were arranged on a cork “rock formation” (*scoglio*) according to strict rules and in keeping with canonical scenes, such as the Nativity, the Annunciation to the Shepherds, and the Tavern. Each year, a specific plan was followed to create the nativity scene, as depicted in the paintings by Salvatore Fergola displayed on the room’s walls. These paintings show the final nativity scene set up by the monarchs before the conquest of the Kingdom in 1860. The last nativity scene was arranged in 1845 to mark the inauguration of the Naples-Caserta railway. Maria Sophia, the Kingdom’s last Queen, was in the process of setting up the nativity scene in 1860 but was unable to complete it due to the attack by the House of Savoy and the subsequent fall of the Kingdom.

The current display draws inspiration from that final 19th-century nativity scene, which vividly reflects the cosmopolitan nature of late 18th-century Naples.

Starting with the royal family, the Nativity scene became a tradition

When the Bourbons set up the Nativity scene

With the traditional date of December 12th fast approaching, activity at the Royal Palace of Caserta became frenetic as the royal nativity scene—one of King Ferdinand’s great passions—was set up. Amidst hushed cries of *“Jamme… jamme!”* (Let’s go… let’s go!) and anxious warnings to *“Stateve accuorte!”* (Watch what you’re doing!), the director of the project supervised the constant coming and going of workers. They carried hundreds of figurines—nestled in rush baskets and shielded by reed mats—from distant storage cabinets to the large oval hall at the center of the palace’s eastern wing, a space that often served as a private theater. There, under the guidance of set designers and painters, the figures were arranged: the finest and most exquisite figurines took center stage in the foreground; others were placed in the middle ground; and finally, the smaller, more ordinary ones were positioned to create the illusion of distance.At last, the day of the unveiling arrived. King Ferdinand and Queen Carolina, followed by their court, entered the hall, which was plunged into near-darkness. Then, as soft music drifted down from above, the room gradually brightened—mimicking the break of dawn—thanks to a mechanical device invented by the architect Nauclerio that simulated the passage of the day. Finally, bathed in full light, the nativity scene was revealed in all its breathtaking splendor, greeted by a chorus of joyful exclamations and gasps of surprise. Gazes darted eagerly across the multitude of figures and animals crowding the elaborate set, yet the greatest curiosity lay in identifying which members of the court had been immortalized among the shepherds. As each one was recognized, the room buzzed with pointing fingers, smiles, knowing glances, and whispered comments—especially when, as often happened, the… Among those recognized were powerful, haughty figures such as the Marquis Tanucci and his wife. Ferdinand and Carolina, too, took great delight—perhaps not coincidentally—in these satirical portrayals of their courtiers; indeed, when the King once discovered that even his beloved greyhounds had been faithfully rendered by the talented *presepe* artist Vassallo, he was overcome with such irrepressible enthusiasm that he never tired of pointing them out to his guests, using colorful dialect expressions…

The Neapolitan nativity scene became fashionable

This sophisticated royal pastime was soon emulated by nobles and wealthy bourgeois, who commissioned the finest artists to create nativity scenes that would serve as ultimate symbols of their wealth and power. One such scene was encircled by large silver roses designed to hold candles; in another—owned by the Prince of Ischitella—the Magi wore garments glittering with jewels, and their pack donkeys carried loads filled with precious stones. The craze grew so intense that some people even went into debt or faced ruin just for the honor of a royal visit to their nativity scene. Indeed, it had become fashionable during the Christmas season for the King and his court—and occasionally other monarchs or distinguished foreign visitors like Goethe—to admire the most renowned displays in the most exclusive homes; these homes were subsequently opened to the general public, who gazed upon them in awe.

The result was a widespread passion for the tradition: no family, however humble, was without its own *presebbio* (nativity scene), even if it was tiny; if space was lacking, the scene was housed in a *scarabattola*—a wooden display case hung on the wall. Meanwhile, the staging of the nativity scene became increasingly theatrical and less religious in character. Palestine had been transformed into a Neapolitan alleyway, bustling with every type of artisan and featuring a tavern with its characteristic *appesa* (display of hanging meats and produce). Amidst all that characteristic hubbub of rustics, gaudy women with goiters, spaghetti-eaters, beggars, water sellers, fishmongers, greengrocers, and Magi with large entourages—all surrounded by a host of animals, including even water buffalo—one could only spot the Nativity scene tucked away in some cranny of the immense rocky landscape thanks to the swarm of angels descending from the heavens. In short, this “courtly” nativity scene retained none of the mysticism and sanctity of the Franciscan tradition; rightly so, the great collector Cuciniello described it as “a page of the Gospels translated into Neapolitan dialect.” Indeed, what was depicted was a slice of Neapolitan life rich in a thousand religious and pagan symbols—a neorealist spectacle that was constantly updated not only in terms of costumes but also to reflect the latest trends of the time, such as the ruins of Greco-Roman temples following the excavations at Pompeii and Herculaneum commissioned by Charles III, or the faithful reproduction of the first elephant to arrive in the capital during an embassy from the Ottoman Porte to the Kingdom of Naples.

The Nativity scene became a tradition

Taken from: Nando Astarita – “Caserta dei Borbone”

The tradition of the Neapolitan nativity scene was actively encouraged by the Bourbons—certainly not out of religious devotion, but because they were well aware of the political advantage in having the common people see themselves as the “key players” in a phenomenon beloved by the King and the nobility. However, the revolution of 1799 and the arrival of the French interrupted the tradition of the royal nativity scenes; many of the figurines were scattered or looted, likely ending up in various museums around the world. Upon their return in 1816, the Bourbons purchased hundreds of new figurines and resumed the practice of setting up the scene, although—with the turn of the century—it began to lose its vitality, remaining forever rooted in the style of the 1700s.

In fact, the finest nativity scene set up at Caserta was the one from 1844, featuring nearly all the figurines from the royal collections and three processions of the Magi—a device used to introduce a sense of temporal movement to the scene and to greatly expand one of its most spectacular groupings. It was enormous, so it was displayed in the vast “Racchetta” gallery (now known as the Grand Gallery, 45 meters long), with a ceiling repainted blue for the occasion. Its beauty was captured in four paintings by the court artist Fergola, and it was admired—right up until the traditional date of February 2nd, Candlemas—by large crowds who traveled to Caserta, aided by the recently opened (1843) railway line connecting the city to Naples.

Salvatore Fergola (1796–1874) – Two details of the 1844 royal nativity scene set up in the enormous Grand Gallery of the Royal Palace. The hall is 45 meters long; one can only imagine the scale of such a nativity scene!

The evolution of the construction technique

Taken from: Nando Astarita – “Caserta dei Borbone”

The shepherd figures underwent an evolution: carving them had become too slow and costly to meet the growing demand. Consequently—after progressing from early, large painted wooden silhouettes (1025) to life-sized polychrome wood sculptures (1200), and then to smaller, clothed statues (1500s–1600s)—tin molds were adopted, allowing for the rapid and inexpensive mass production of clay shepherds. For higher-quality figures, however, Neapolitan ingenuity devised armatures made of wire wrapped in tow (coarse hemp fiber); terracotta heads, hands, and feet were attached to these, enabling the figures to adopt varied and more realistic poses. Furthermore, a meticulous attention to detail led artists to specialize: some modeled heads—such as the renowned Sammartino, founder of a school on San Gregorio Armeno—while others crafted hands and feet, animals, or (like Ardia, known as “Farinariello”) baskets of fruit and vegetables; meanwhile, master ceramists from Vietri and Cerreto fashioned tiny jars and plates. In short, the craft of the *presepianti* (nativity scene makers) was a true art form—fittingly, they were already referred to as *figuram sculptores* (figure sculptors) as early as the 15th century—despite the opinion of Vanvitelli, who privately dismissed the nativity scene as “a childish pastime to which the Neapolitans—clumsy in other respects—devote themselves with remarkable skill.”

When the Nativity Scene Room Was the Private Little Theater

The elliptical room, now devoid of decoration, was used by the royal family as a private theater. This is confirmed by the 1799 inventory, which lists it as the “Royal Theater Room”: it contained an area for the audience, an orchestra section with a piano-harpsichord, and a stage with scenery—features that remained intact at the end of the century. Today, it houses a monumental Neapolitan nativity scene comprising 1,200 figurines.

Design for the Domestic Little Theatre – Section

Design for the Domestic Little Theatre – Floor Plan

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