Secret Museum, Naples

Listen for a moment. The great halls of the National Archaeological Museum of Naples echo with footsteps on stone, and voices bounce off high ceilings. But here, in this small suite of rooms, the sound changes. People speak more softly. Some laugh nervously. Others go very quiet. The light is gentle, the walls are close, and the objects around you were once considered too dangerous for most people to see.

This is the Gabinetto Segreto, the Secret Cabinet. It holds a collection of erotic art and objects from the Roman world. Most of them came from the buried cities around the Bay of Naples, especially Pompeii and Herculaneum. These towns were destroyed when Mount Vesuvius erupted in the year 79. Ash and volcanic material covered streets, houses, shops and gardens, and preserved them for centuries.

When excavations began in the eighteenth century, the diggers found much more than temples and statues. They found frescoes on bedroom walls, carved lamps, bronze figures and household charms. Many of these showed sex and the human body with complete frankness. For the Romans, this was ordinary decoration. For the excavators, it was a shock. Their world had very different ideas about what could be shown in public.

The Bourbon rulers of Naples controlled the excavations, and they faced a problem. These finds were valuable and historically important. But they did not fit the moral codes of the court and the Church. The solution was a locked room. According to a story told for generations, a member of the royal family visited the collection with his wife and young daughter. He was so embarrassed that he ordered the objects to be hidden away.

Whether every detail of that story is true, the result is well documented. The objects were moved behind closed doors. For a long period, entry required special permission. Access was largely limited to scholars, important visitors and men considered mature and respectable. Women and children were generally kept out. The rule tells us as much about nineteenth century society as the objects tell us about ancient Rome.

For much of the following two centuries, the room opened and closed with the politics of the day. Each new government took its own view. Sometimes the doors opened a little. Then they closed again. It was only around the year 2000 that the collection was properly arranged and opened to ordinary visitors. Today you can walk in as anyone else would walk into a gallery. That freedom is fairly new.

Now look at the small objects in the cases. You will see many phallic shapes — on lamps, on pendants, on bronze bells. This may seem strange at first. But for the Romans, the phallus was often a symbol of luck and protection, not of sex. People believed it could turn away the evil eye. That was the idea that envious looks from others could bring sickness or misfortune.

One type of object surprises almost everyone. It is the tintinnabulum, a hanging bronze wind chime. Several small bells hang from a central figure, often a strange winged or animal shape with a phallus. Romans hung these near doorways. When the wind moved them, the bells rang. The sound and the symbol together were meant to protect the house and the people inside. It was a guardian, not a joke.

The frescoes tell a different story. Some come from houses, where wealthy owners chose erotic scenes for private rooms. Others are linked to Pompeii's brothels. Painted panels near the entrance may have shown the services on offer. Look at the colours. The deep reds and soft ochres are typical of Pompeian wall painting. The figures are often small and simply drawn, more like illustrations than great art.

The most famous sculpture here is a marble group of Pan with a goat. Pan was a half-goat god of the wild countryside, of shepherds and of animal instinct. The piece was found at Herculaneum, in a grand villa known as the Villa of the Papyri. It is carefully carved and technically skilled. Many visitors find it the most uncomfortable object in the room. That reaction is part of its history too.

It helps to remember the context. Roman culture had its own strict rules about status, power and behaviour. Its art was not simply free or innocent. Some scenes reflect a world of slavery and inequality that we should not romanticise. But Romans did not separate the erotic from daily life in the way later Europeans did. Gods, myths, jokes and protection charms all sat together on the same walls and shelves.

So this room really holds two histories. One belongs to the ancient people who made and used these objects. The other belongs to the later people who found them, felt ashamed of them, and hid them away. The locked door itself became an exhibit. Many scholars see the Secret Cabinet as an early example of a modern question: who decides what the public is allowed to see?

Before you leave, take a slow look around the room again. Notice the faces of the other visitors. Some are curious, some amused, some uneasy. Two thousand years ago, a family in Pompeii would have walked past similar images every day without a second thought. When you step back into the main halls, carry that small shift with you. The past was not as shy as we imagined.