Caravaggio: A Passionate Life (15 page)

XXIV

The Prior of Naples

W
e do not know exactly how Caravaggio became a Knight of Malta, but the circumstances suggest that Fra’ Ippolito Malaspina, Prior of Naples, had a good deal to do with it. Although there is no documentary evidence that he supported the artist’s candidacy, he was the logical person in the city to advise him about how to join the order. His head may have been the model for that of another
St. Jerome
, painted by Caravaggio either at Naples or on Malta. If so, we have a remarkable idea of the impression he made on Caravaggio, who, presumably working from memory, portrayed a tough veteran in his sixties, with very strong features and impressive serenity.

Caravaggio could well have met him at Rome, in the company of his brother-in-law, Ottavio Costa, and would have noticed his voluminous black “choir mantle” with a large, eight-pointed white cross on the shoulder, and his cloth-of-gold surcoat. He was called “Fra’ ” because, like all his brethren, he had taken the vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience. Not a Neapolitan but a Tuscan marquis from the Lunigiana, born in 1544, he had entered the Order of Malta when very young yet, despite fighting heroically at Lepanto, he had only recently emerged as one of its most influential members, after the election of his friend Alof de Wignancourt as grand master in 1601.
Appointed prior of Naples the following year, he had relinquished his priory on taking command of the papal fleet, but was reinstated in October 1606, less than a month after Caravaggio reached the city. Neapolitan grandees took care to be on good terms with him, since, as prior, he ranked among the great dignitaries of Naples.

Throughout Italy the knights were popular to the point of adulation as the finest fighting seamen in the world. They guarded the peninsula’s coastline against Turks and North African slave raiders, their galleys patrolling the Mediterranean and attacking Muslim ships wherever they found them. Crusading ideals still meant something in the seventeenth century, and it was no accident that Tasso’s
Gerusalemme Liberata
should have been a poetic evocation of the First Crusade. What made the order even more imposing was that its warrior-monks were nearly all aristocrats, admitted as Knights of Justice only after providing cast-iron proofs of patrician ancestry. Even the few non-noble knights, or Knights of Grace, had to be men of distinction.

Sandrart and, by inference, Vincenzo Giustiniani, were both convinced that Caravaggio had planned to become a Knight of Malta before leaving Rome. Bellori, however, has a different story. “Caravaggio was desirous of receiving the cross of Malta, which is generally given by grace to men who are thought worthy because of their merit and quality. So he decided to go to the island, where he was presented to the Grand Master.” But it seems most unlikely that Caravaggio would ever have gone to Malta without an assurance that he would be accepted for the order’s novitiate.

The idea of an artist entering the order was not such a fantasy as it sounds. Caravaggio’s friend Ludovico Cardi, “Il Cigoli,” joined the order in 1613, and later Mattia Preti was a triumphant success as a painter-knight. Significantly, Il Cigoli owed his admission to Cardinal Borghese, who wanted to reward him for decorating his Roman villa. The grand master was always anxious to oblige the cardinal secretary, and Borghese could easily have done Caravaggio the same service. Although no firm proof exists, it is likely that he played a much greater part in Caravaggio’s career than has been realized.
He was certainly the right person through whom to obtain a papal dispensation for a murderer to enter the order.

Caravaggio had much to offer the knights, who wanted the best paintings in Europe. They did not wish their churches to be in any way inferior to those of the Jesuits or the Oratorians, and they had more ready money. The grand master knew all about the killing of Ranuccio Tommasoni, but did not see it as an obstacle. He was used to dealing with duelists. Given the customs of a violent age and the fact they were professional soldiers, more than a few of his knights besides the Marchesa Costanza’s son had killed an opponent in a duel. As for Caravaggio’s notorious temper, Fra’ Alof had plenty of experience in handling the haughtiest and most pugnacious body of men in the entire Mediterranean.

Caravaggio’s lack of pedigree was a much more serious problem. The knights had recently become stricter about “noble proofs,” since too many young men were trying to join. Fortunately, the statutes allowed the grand master to let a few non-noble candidates enter the order as Knights of Grace (or “Obedience”). He did so sparingly, because admissions often infuriated the nobly born Knights of Justice. Their wrath was however generally reserved for blatant social climbers, especially those who were Genoese. In Caravaggio’s case, as Francesco Susinno put it, the aspirant knight “was admired by everyone in the Order on account of his skill with a brush, and they all wanted his pictures.”

There must have been a lot of paperwork concerning Caravaggio’s candidacy. At some stage, Fra’ Alof agreed formally to his coming to Malta and trying his vocation. Although he was thirty-five, for a year the artist would have to submit to all the petty restrictions of a novitiate and obey a novice master. His readiness to do so shows just how anxious he was to become a Knight of Malta.

XXV

The Knights of Malta, July 1607

J
ust after midsummer 1607, the galleys of Malta sailed into the Bay of Naples, their first visit for over a year. Red-hulled and gilded, with huge triangular lateen sails of striped canvas, flying silk banners, these gorgeous warships were commanded by the knights’ senior fighting officer at sea, the Captain-General of the Galleys. This was Fra’ Fabrizio Sforza Colonna, the Marchesa Costanza’s son. His fleet was bound for Genoa before returning to Malta, and Caravaggio sailed with him.

The galleys were the fastest ships in the Mediterranean, but, built for speed with long, narrow hulls, they pitched and rolled horribly. They were also overcrowded, each carrying nearly five hundred soldiers, sailors, and oarsmen, and contagious fevers often broke out among the filthy, verminous galley slaves. Caravaggio must have sailed with the dozen red-surcoated knights on the poop deck, sheltered to some extent from sun and rain by a red canvas awning. Even for knights, however, life on board a galley was uncomfortable. No food could be cooked in such cramped quarters, the fleet putting into a harbor every few days to take on food and water. Their only relaxations were cards and dice. When the ship rowed into the wind, the knights plugged their noses against the stench from the oarsmen chained at
their benches. Above the crash of oars, a drum beat out the time and the
Aguzzino
, or overseer, could be heard cracking his whip. Each galley carried a chaplain, oars being shipped for morning prayers, while the
Angelus
was said at noon and in the evening. Weather permitting, Mass was celebrated on the poop.

The fleet put in briefly at Livorno and other ports, just long enough for Caravaggio to enjoy a hot meal. The voyage home would have been by way of Corsica, Sardinia, and Sicily. Its main purpose was to look out for the Barbary corsairs, operating from Algiers, Tunis, or Tripoli, who preyed on Christian merchantmen or raided for slaves along the Italian coastline. If the knights sighted a corsair, they could usually run her down, and it is not impossible that Caravaggio saw a naval action of this sort. His voyage would have been still more uncomfortable if Fra’ Fabrizio’s ships had to ride out one of those frightening Mediterranean storms that even in summer can blow up without warning.

At last the fleet sighted the rocky coast of Malta, and then Caravaggio caught his first glimpse of Valletta on the ridge of Monte Sceberras—a long beak of rock running out into the middle of a great bay, which it divided into two natural harbors. It is probable that he landed here on 12 July 1607.

The two things most people knew about Malta were that a great apostle was shipwrecked on it, “where the viper leapt on Paul’s hand,” and that it was ruled by the knights. Being in the center of the Mediterranean, it had always been of strategic importance, and at the same time vulnerable to seaborne raids. When the knights arrived in 1530, they found most of the inhabitants talking “a sort of Moorish” but ruled by an Italian-speaking aristocracy with titles from the kings of Sicily. By Caravaggio’s time, the population had risen to about fifty thousand, the nobles living in the former capital, Citta Notabile—today called Mdina.

The Order of St. John of Jerusalem had been founded in the eleventh century, to shelter pilgrims to the holy land, taking up arms to defend them. When the Latin East fell to Islam, the “Knights Hospitaller” moved to
Rhodes and then to Malta, which they held from the king of Spain (as king of Sicily) in return for the gift of a falcon every All Saints’ Day. They were justly admired for their heroism in 1565 when, hopelessly outnumbered, they had beaten off a Turkish invasion, which many still remembered when Caravaggio arrived on the island. Ever since the Great Siege, the knights had been building their new capital, “Valletta Humilissima.”

There were about eighteen hundred knights, of whom less than half lived on Malta. They were monks as well as knights, vowing to be poor in spirit, chaste, and obedient, confessing and taking Communion frequently, especially before going into battle, and reciting daily the Little Office of Our Lady. Death in combat against the infidel, whether boarding a Barbary corsair or raiding a Turkish seaport, was regarded as martyrdom.

The sea “caravans” of the knights brought them rich rewards. Entering their houses in Valletta, Caravaggio would have found Oriental rugs, chests of rare eastern woods, Chinese porcelain, and massive services of silver plate. However, many brethren left the island after they had sailed on enough caravans to qualify them for promotion, each returning to an often palatial commandery on the European mainland, to spend the rest of his life running its estates and sending its revenues out to Malta.

Besides the knights’ crusading vocation, there was that of the Hospitaller, of caring for “Our Lords the Sick.” The Sacred Infirmary held over 350 beds, employed several teams of doctors, and was better equipped than any contemporary hospital in Europe. But although the brethren visited it on certain specified days, it was almost impossible for them to live both callings. Even so, a few knights nursed at the infirmary on a regular basis, at least one specializing in the care of sick galley slaves. Brethren of this sort led a monastic existence, living permanently in a retreat house at Valletta, the Camerata.

During the 1590s, the Abbé de Brantôme observed of the then grand master, “he is revered almost as a king, and everyone defers to him as if he really was one, addressing him with the utmost humility and always with
the head bared.” In the year Caravaggio came to Malta, the Holy Roman Emperor created Fra’ Alof and his successors Princes of Malta and Gozo. However, another of his titles was “Guardian of the Poor of Jesus Christ,” and at his installation a silken cord and scrip (or pilgrim’s satchel) was fastened around his waist in token of his duty to help them. First and foremost, the grand master was a spiritual superior.

Whether they concentrated on their crusader or on their Hospitaller vocations, the brethren were in the last analysis monks as well as knights, and when Caravaggio joined them he must have known very well that he was entering a religious order.

XXVI

The Novice, 1607–1608

T
he first mention of Caravaggio on Malta is during an investigation by the Inquisition into the rumored bigamy of an unnamed Greek artist. On 14 July 1607, Caravaggio had been a guest in a knight’s house at Valletta when the Greek was present. He was questioned by Paolo Cassar, an official of the “General Inquisitor for Heretical Depravity.” “I don’t know anything about what your most reverend lordship is asking me, except that there was a Greek painter staying at Fra’ Giacomo Marchese’s residence and that he arrived here on the galleys a fortnight ago,” Caravaggio told him. “I’m aware of nothing that ought to be reported to the Holy Office about this knight, or about anyone else, and I don’t know where the painter came from.”

A novice, he was technically
in convento
, living as if he were in a monastery. Most of the seven Langues into which the order was divided had their own fortress-like
auberge
, in Caravaggio’s case the Auberge of Italy. It housed the novices and younger knights, who slept in cubicles and dined in its refectory. Because of his age, he was probably allowed to lodge with a knight in Valletta, but he would have had to dine at the
auberge
, besides attending church services and lectures with the other novices; led by a senior knight, they said the Little Office together daily and recited the Rosary,
visiting the infirmary once a week to nurse “Our Lords the Sick.” They also received instruction in seamanship, gunnery, and fencing. Presumably Caravaggio was excused from these, though not classes on the statutes, customs, and traditions of the “Religion,” the brethren’s name for their order.

The Master of the Novices, their spiritual adviser, was Don Giovanni Bertolotti, a chaplain of the order. A distinguished theologian from Bologna, as the grand master’s confessor he had great influence. During his term of office, the Oratory of St. John was built onto the conventual church, specifically for the novices’ use. In addition, Caravaggio must have had the guidance of a senior knight from the Langue of Italy. Probably this was Fra’ Antonio Martelli. In 1966 a portrait of a Knight of Malta at the Pitti Palace in Florence was identified as Caravaggio’s work. At first the sitter was thought to be Wignancourt, but recent research has established that it is Fra’ Antonio. A Florentine born in 1534, he had fought so bravely during the Great Siege that Grand Master de la Vallette rewarded him with a rich commandery. He received rapid promotion when Wignancourt became grand master, appointed prior of Messina, one of the Langue of Italy’s key posts. Caravaggio’s portrait shows a battered if well-preserved old noble with a cropped head and a faded red beard. Despite his scraggy neck, the weathered, sunburned face is alarmingly formidable, with a tight mouth and very shrewd eyes.

We do not know how often Fra’ Ippolito Malaspina came over from Naples, but he was on Malta in February 1608. Possibly it was then that Caravaggio painted, or at least finished, the
St. Jerome
. Although some think St. Jerome’s face may be the grand master’s, it is almost certainly the prior’s, since the artist has added the Malaspina arms at the bottom right-hand corner, a thornbush in flower. Recently restored, the picture now hangs in the Oratory of St. John. Cleaning has brought back the dazzling light in which Caravaggio clothed the saint, the light of divine inspiration.

If there was never any chance of Caravaggio going to sea to fight the Turks, apparently he sympathized with his brethren’s crusader ideals. Sandrart
claims that he “generously equipped a carrack,” though the enormous sum required would clearly have been beyond his resources. It is more likely that he contributed to the fund that the grand master was amassing to build a big, new square-rigged warship, a carrack, for the religion’s navy.

Malta was far from being a “dreary isle,” as Howard Hibbard calls it. Before the knights’ arrival, it had resembled a miniature Sicily even if most of the population spoke Maltese. Its cities looked like Sicilian or Italian cities, particularly the new capital at Valletta, while the order’s international membership made it “an epitome of all Europe.” The seamen and merchants, Italians, Greeks, Armenians, and Jews, who swarmed in its ports, added to the cosmopolitan air. Although stony and largely treeless, the landscape was not unpleasing. Admittedly the sweltering summers were trying, an unpleasant sirocco blowing in August. “They here stir early and late, in regard of the immoderate heat, and sleep at the noonday,” reports Sandys. Throughout the winter there were gales and high seas. But, accustomed to Rome and Naples, Caravaggio can have found little difficulty in coping with the climate.

Valletta, where Caravaggio spent most of his time, was a handsome city of yellow limestone, a grid of smart streets behind massive fortifications. Although the Auberge of Italy, now the General Post Office, was bombed during the Second World War, he would still recognize its sculpted facade and great Baroque entrance, its spacious courtyard around a well surmounted by a high arch; next door stood the Italian Langue’s own church, dedicated to St. Catherine of Italy. As a novice, he had to be in St. John’s church, just round the corner from the Auberge, almost every day. No other buildings, not even the Contarelli Chapel, have such close associations with him.

When not at sea, the life of a knight was comfortable, even luxurious, with Turkish or North African slaves to wait on him. The cuisine was world-famous, first-class cooks being brought from Europe, while fine wines
were imported, together with snow from Mount Etna to cool them. Social amusements consisted of a never-ending round of receptions and card parties in richly furnished apartments or shady gardens. There were concerts and sometimes plays at the Auberges. There were also temptations. Sandys writes of “the number of allowed curtizans (for the most part Grecians) who sit playing in their doors on instruments; and with the art of their eyes inveigle those continent by vow.” There do not seem to have been many models among them, judging from the lack of young women in Caravaggio’s painting while he was on the island. In any case, he himself was preparing to become continent by vow.

Apart from going to sea on a “caravan,” the most dangerous thing a knight could do was to quarrel with one of his brethren. Confined on their little island, they were prone to fall out and settle disputes in the manner of their class, by dueling, although fatalities were rare. The statutory penalty for fighting a duel was “Loss of the Habit,” expulsion from the order, but usually lesser punishments were imposed if nobody had been killed or badly wounded. Yet for over a year there is no record of Caravaggio quarreling. He was well aware that as a novice he was on probation. It is also likely that he went in awe of those three grim old men, the grand master and the priors of Messina and Naples.

Malta gave Caravaggio a new country and a new identity. The island was a sovereign state and, as
Malta Gerosolomitana
, heir of the old crusader states in Palestine. What it lacked in size, it made up for in prestige; for an Italian, there was no more honorable profession than that of a “Jerusalem Knight” (or
Cavaliere Gerosolomitano
). And membership conferred nobility on those without blue blood, which cannot have displeased a painter of ill-defined social standing. No doubt he enjoyed the company too. If men of the sword, the knights were by no means Philistines. Many were younger sons of immensely wealthy families, who had grown up in palaces, surrounded by beautiful possessions. This was especially true of the Italian Langue, more than a few of whose members would have known great painting
when they saw it. They had genuine respect for so magnificent an artist, while he himself must have been deeply flattered by their acceptance and at the prospect of joining them. Above all, he enjoyed the warm approval of the grand master, Fra’ Alof. The time that Caravaggio spent on Malta may well have been the happiest of his entire life.