This vast burial site built into a natural cave in the soft rock underneath Capodimonte Hill is home to an estimated 8 million human bones, and was one of the main cemeteries in Naples for centuries. The bones interred at Fontanelle were painstakingly cataloged and reorganized in the early 1870s, after flooding and mass burials had made the already disorganized paupers’ cemetery a jumbled mess.
A cult devoted to the anime pezzentelle (poor souls) in the cemetery sprang up shortly after, with local families constructing small votive shrines to hold skulls said to bring them fortune, and today you can still see many of these decorated and venerated skulls, as well as the cemetery’s Maria Santissima del Carmine church and the archival work done in the 19th century. Though you're free to walk through the site without a guide, joining a tour that stops at Fontanelle Cemetery can help shed light on its history and lore.
Fans of offbeat sights and local folklore will enjoy visiting this singular, if rather macabre, ossuary.
Fontanelle Cemetery may not be suitable for young children or others who may be sensitive to the site.
The ossuary is not fully accessible to visitors with limited mobility.
Modest attire and appropriate decorum are required to enter the burial site.
Entry to the cemetery is free, so disregard anyone who attempts to sell you a ticket.
The cemetery is on Via Fontanelle 80 in the Sanità district in Naples’ historic center; the closest metro stop is Materdei.
Prior to 2010, Fontanelle was only open to the public a few days each year, but now it’s open daily year-round. Avoid visiting on the weekends and holidays, as the cemetery can be quite crowded with both tourists and locals.
Perhaps the most unique aspect of the Fontanelle Cemetery is its history as the site of a thriving cult for decades. Its mix of pagan and Christian beliefs was founded on the adoption of an anonymous deceased person's skull, which was often given a name, shrine-like case, and decorated with sumptuous fabrics and semi-precious stones. The relationship between the skull and devotee was believed to be reciprocal, with prayers for the deceased’s soul offered in exchange for blessings and fortune. In 1969, the Catholic church decided that the local cult had devolved into fetishism and the city’s cardinal abolished the tradition.
