by Michael Hone
It was perhaps in Naples that Caravaggio did his darkest painting, David with the Head of Goliath. Painted in the year of is death, 1610, David with the Head of Goliath is Caravaggio’s most stunning painting: David a small lithe boy, deadly solemn, showing neither fear nor awe at having decapitated the giant, certainly no regret killing the Philistine heathen, thanks to which David would become king of Israel. The painting is moving in many senses. Did Caravaggio have a premonition of his coming end, and wish to join both extremities of his time on earth, he as a boy in the form of David, he as an older man, dead in one dull, sightless eye, a glint of still-existent life in the other, his mouth ajar in an eternally silenced scream, his face still lacerated from the beating in front of the Osteria del Ciriglio? Or was David his lover Cecco, his shirt open and in disarray as in life, a child he had ‘’known’’ at age 10, had painted again and again as he grew into manhood, finally portrayed here from memory, the inextinguishable memory of a lover, Caravaggio, for his belovèd, Cecco. Caravaggio had called David il suo caravaggino, his little Caravaggio, which could have meant Cecco, who later adopted Caravaggio’s name, or it could have meant Caravaggio as he was as a little boy.
Caravaggio offered the painting to Scipione Borghese, a friend, a patron, and the official power who held Caravaggio’s blood-dripping head in his hands, as did David, in that Scipione had the power to have Caravaggio cleared of killing Tommasoni … or have him decapitated.
Besides being disfigured during the attack in front of the Osteria del Ciriglio, Caravaggio was perhaps even partially blinded. His convalescence at the Colonna Palace near Naples took six months. It was then that he painted what was one of the darkest paintings of a lifetime of dark masterpieces, his Martyrdom of St. Ursula, that I described at the beginning of this chapter.
Word came from Rome for him to return. Glory would once more be his. Scipione had commissions by the bucketful. He would be pardoned. He would be acknowledged and rewarded as the greatest living painter. He would be enriched as only Michelangelo had before him. His knighthood would be reestablished. The young twerps on Malta would be obliged to kowtow despite their nobility--the gift of accidental birth, not merit. And, of course, there would be boys without end, the husky lads of the country, the lithe boys of the towns, the red-blooded glory of glorious Italy.
He sailed from Naples to Rome. Why he landed farther north to Rome, at perhaps Palo, is unknown. An ill wind in the form of a gale perhaps blew him there. He landed and was arrested for being a bandit, perhaps due to his clothes, always thread bare, and the cuts that disfigured his face, following the attack at the Osteria del Ciriglio. When he was released he learned his boat had gone to Porto Ercole. He went after it, perhaps on foot, perhaps he had enough money on him after his arrest to hire a mule, although the guards most probably appropriated his valuables. Some sources believe he made it that far. Others that, ill, feverish and in deep sufferance from his Ciriglio wounds, he was taken in at a hut along the way. At any rate, at age 38 the life of the choleric genius that has so enriched humanity, affixing his seal until the end of time, came to an end. He was a man who certainly abused life, but one that allowed life, in its turn, to use him--for me the paramount accolade.
The paintings he had with him on the boat were recuperated by the wealthy, notably Scipione. The details are unknown and of little real interest. This man, so clearly cut out for a violent death by sword or dagger, came down with a fever, as Virgil had off the coast of Brindisi. The light went out for them both, an eternal loss to the world. Of the lesser players, Caravaggio’s sidekick in fighting and whoring, Onorio Longhi, died of syphilis. His exceedingly beautiful model and whore friend Fillide died wealthy, perhaps too of syphilis. Constanza Colonna was faithful to the end, exactly what end I’m unaware of. But she’s earned a place in my heart until my own end which I hope--like that requested by Caesar the night before his assassination, while dining with Brutus--will be rapid and unexpected.
It is improbable that Cecco Boneri accompanied Caravaggio to Malta. We last view him in Caravaggio’s St. John the Baptist, a brooding lad of exquisite beauty, but so different from the laughing carefree boy in Love Conquers All that the contrast is heart wrenching. Cecco took the name Cecco del Michelangelo and one of his paintings, St. Sebastian, is exquisite. He vanished from history, having lived a life of infinite rebounds, sharing the same air and more with the wondrous, enigmatic artist known as Caravaggio.
Love Conquers All
RIBERA
1591 - 1652
Hot Spanish blood is not a myth, as the early Aztecs and Incas found out when hundreds of thousands were massacred by Spanish troops, which were minuscule in number in comparison. Today only a fool would take a Spanish football team lightly, and were Spaniards to possess a tenth of their ancestors’ courage and determination they would now rule the world. Jusepe de Ribera was born in Valencia but already around age 20 he was in Rome, the reason for placing him squarely in the Italian Renaissance. Called lo Spagnoletto (the little Spaniard) by his contemporaries, the debts he ran up were anything but small and soon he fled his creditor, the taverns that had supplied his food and lodging, and the shops that furnished his art supplies. He ended up in Naples, under Spanish rule where he fit in like a glove tailored for his hand. He grouped with two others, Belisario Corenzio and Biambattista Caracciolo, to form an association of hoodlums known as the Cabal of Naples. The aim was to expulse outside competition, artists usually from Rome, Florence and Venice--Annibale Carracci, Guido Reni, Cavaliere d’Arpino, Domenichino and others--invited by successive Spanish Viceroys. The cabal threesome forcibly entered painters’ workshops and sabotaged their works. They added ash to paint oil, they threatened the lives of the painters, their assistants and their apprentices, and didn’t hesitate to beat them up. All of which ended in the death of Domenichino for which Ribera escaped punishment.
Ribera, son of a shoemaker, albeit a rich one, married well, placing him in the ranks of the most wealthy Neapolitan artists of his times. His mythological subjects, like his martyrdoms, were violent, especially Apollo and Marsyas, but far less so than Caravaggio who supposedly inspired Ribera.
He’s a rogue for his role in the killing of Domenichino and the destruction of other artists’ works.
Apollo flaying the skin of Marsyas.
CENCI MURDER
1598 - 1599
Even a terrible flood that left 1,500 dead couldn’t keep all Rome from being stunned by a murder among the nobility, that of Count Francesco Cenci by his coachman--his daughter’s lover--Calvetti, who bludgeoned him with a hammer. The count had at first been drugged by his daughter, Beatrice, assisted by her stepmother, the count’s wife Lucrezia, whom Count Cenci repeatedly raped in front of Beatrice. Count Cenci had been ruined by a fine of 100,000 scudi for sodomizing his stable boys. His sons, Giacomo and Bernardo, were in on the plot, as the count had tried to sodomize them too, as well as having incest with Beatrice. (She’s thought to have had a child, but from her father or the coachman is unknown.) The murder was camouflaged as an accident by shoving the count’s body over the broken railing of his palazzo. It was the murder of the century and even Pope Clement wanted to be kept continually up-to-date. If this weren’t enough, a Cenci cousin, Paolo di Santa Croce, killed his mother when she refused to bequeath him her estate. The pope could understand murder to ensure one’s inheritance. What he wanted were details concerning Cenci. He knew the Cenci were part of Rome’s most ancient aristocracy. Cristoforo Cenci had worked for the Papal court and had amassed a fortune in mansions, farms and palaces, all of which he left to his son Francesco at his death, when the boy was twelve. His mother couldn’t control her son who attacked servants at the slightest provocation, shedding blood and accumulating lawsuits. Even at age twelve he tried to bend male and female servants and stable boys to his sexual will, and pleasured himself, his hand always down his trousers, when the palace help--and courtesans that he was already frequenting--were unavailable. His moth
er married him off at age fourteen to a girl the same age. His own children soon followed, among whom were Giacomo, Cristoforo, Rocco, Bernardo and Beatrice.
His sexual attacks on the palace servants continued, with his being forced to pay up when he lost suits, although on one occasion he was able to get a boy hung thanks to false witnesses in his pay. Accusations against him were usually based on brutality, fornication and sodomy. On occasion he was imprisoned, earning his freedom only by shelling out what amounted to tens of thousands of scudi. A period of instability followed when one dead pope was replaced by another in rapid succession. Criminality and debauchery reigned supreme, a perfect climate for Cenci whose physical and sexual violence continued unchecked.
His wife died in childbirth and he took another, Lucrezia, whom he raped when she was unwilling to have sex, rapes that took place in front of his daughter Beatrice, all the while continuing to sodomize his stable hands. His sons Giacomo and Bernardo became aware of their father’s attacks on boys, and finally Cenci was brought to trial for sodomy and found guilty. By paying the 100,000 scudi, a colossal sum, to the Papal Exchequer, he escaped being burned at the stake.
Cristoforo and Rocco, following in their father’s steps, were both killed in duels over whores, and Cenci retired to a mountain palace retreat accessible with difficulty even by mule with Lucrezia and Beatrice. The palace retreat was looked after by an extremely handsome caretaker, Olympio Calvetti, who became Beatrice’s lover. Cenci returned to Rome, leaving the two women virtual prisoners. When he returned it was to continue the rape of his wife and his daughter.
Finally Beatrice convinced her stepmother and her lover Calvetti to rid them all of Cenci. Calvetti enlisted the help of a friend, Marzio Catalano, and together they entered Cenci’s bedroom and bludgeoned the sleeping figure to death. Cenci was then pushed from the palace balcony. The protective balustrade was later broken so as to appear an accident.
Cenci’s sons, Giocomo and Bernardo, returned from Rome, although neither they nor Lucrezia and Beatrice took part in Cenci’s burial, which got people talking to such an extent that an enquiry was made. Calvetti’s wife, jealous that her husband had had a child with Beatrice (unless it was her father’s) told the investigators that she had seen her husband destroy the balustrade after Cenci had fallen. Marzio, too, soon admitted his role in the affair. It came out that Giocomo, in Rome, had known about the assassination plans, but Bernardo had not.
Cenci’s body was exhumed and it was found that his ghastly wounds could not have been caused by a simple fall.
At the trial the people of Rome were in favor of Beatrice when the details of her ordeal came out, and Giacomo and Bernardo testified that Cenci had tried to sodomize them. But the pope and the nobility had no desire whatsoever to see any of them escape punishment, as that would open the doors for their own assassination at the hands of disgruntled children and servants.
Lucrezia and Beatrice were accompanied by so many thousands to their place of execution, all wailing the coming death of the two martyrs, that segments of the crowd fell into the Tiber and were drowned. Both were beheaded. Giacomo and Calvetti were paraded through the streets while red-hot pinchers pulled flesh from their bodies. At the execution site both were bludgeoned to death, their bodies cut into pieces, and hung on hooks
Innocent little Bernardo was informed that he would suffer the same fate. He was obliged to witness the executions of all four before being told he would only be obliged to man the pope’s galleys until his death, which those in the know knew to be worse than death itself. The pope was given the details, and declared himself satisfied.
Here the only murderer was Francesco Cenci.
Beatrice by Reni
POSTSCRIPT
The horrors and the violence of the past--Gesualdo who murdered his sons, Cenci who violated his daughter and his boys, Galeazzo Maria who snuffed out the life of Gian Galaezzo, Cesare Borgia who threw the most beautiful boy of the Renaissance, Astorre Manfredi, into the Tiber--continues unrelentingly to our day. Luckily there were moments of happiness, Cellini whose lover was so handsome ‘’he would have driven the Greek gods themselves mad,’’ da Vinci whose last sight, on his death bed, was his John the Baptist, the portrait of his cherished Salaì, Salaì in flesh and blood at his side, holding his hand.
One is so easily submerged by the deaths of the children in the Tower, of Perkin who simply wanted to be seen in beautiful attire, of Juan Borgia, supreme in his skin-tight trousers, billowing white shirt and black pearl-studded doublet, the garments he was wearing when brought up in a net from the depths of the Tiber, of massacres like the sacking of Renaissance Prado, ‘’Oh God! The cruelty! The Cruelty!’’, of the 8,000 Srebrenica boys slaughtered in the name of gods as ephemeral as those of the ancient Olympians, each of whom surely pleaded for his precious life. While a world away Cortés and Pizarro would bring death directly to hundreds of thousands of Aztecs and Incas, and then millions through the smallpox they carried; Incas and especially Aztecs who cut out the throbbing hearts of boys, also by the hundreds of thousands, to ensure that the sun would again rise.
In my book on Alcibiades he participated in a banquet, listening to Plato and Socrates expound on the virtues of Platonic love. Philosophic futilities that, accompanied by their religious counterparts, for whom the god Zeus was supreme, have stunted the intellectual growth of men since Ikhnaton’s one god, the Sun (without which, one must logically agree, there would be no life possible anywhere). Felonious beliefs that enchain the minds of men, men seemingly incapable of standing alone and indomitable before their own destinies, taking their own lives in their own hands, set on the voodoo nonsense and superstition inherent in religions. This is how I ended the chapter on Alcibiades:
‘’But we know for certain that when Alcibiades left the banquet he took a good breath of fresh air, and went straight to find a warm bed with a warm boy to fill it.’’
And who knows, perhaps, as we saw in the chapter on Machiavelli, the lad growled in Alcibiades’s ear.
SOURCES
Héroard (pronounced Hérouard) was a very professional doctor, son of a surgeon, born in Montpellier, the site of the best medical education in France, then as today. At first he was Charles IX’s veterinarian, but was then appointed Henry III’s doctor and was present at Henry’s autopsy after his assassination by Clément. Named Henry IV’s doctor, he changed his faith from Protestant to Catholic when Henry did so. At age 50 Henry gave him the sacred trust of the future Louis XIII. Héroard kept a daily Journal, 11,000 pages over 27 years, until he died at age 78. Louis was extremely affected by his death, and soon followed his illustrious friend. 6% of his Journal, the picturesque parts, was published in 1868, while the scientific parts came out in 1989. He also wrote a superb book on horse bone structure, called Hippostologie.
Montglat [François de Clermont de Montglat]: He is known for his Mémoires which recounted the wars between France and the Holy Roman Empire. He was himself a soldier and wounded. He was Louis III’s head valet and served Louis XIV. His Mémoires were published after his death in 1727 at age 67.
Richelieu’s Mémoires were compiled after his death by his faithful servants.
Rochefoucauld (La) is considered an example of the very finest in French nobility, having mastered court etiquette and oratorical elegance. Married at age 15, a soldier at 16, he was shot in the head during a battle but survived [the details of which are highly disputed, as seen in my book Saint Bartholomew Day Massacres]. An integral part of plots during the reigns of Louis XIII and Louis XIV, he was checkmated first by Richelieu, then by Mazarin. His Mémoires were pieced together by others and perhaps consist of only 1/3rd of his personal work. He later denied their authenticity. Politics for him were based on power moves by the greats, not ideologies or philosophies. He was said to have been morally scrupulous, which didn’t stop him from taking as mistress the wives of others. Interestingly, he was introduced into Louis’ court by none other than the ubiquitous Mada
me de Chevreuse!
Siri, Vittorio: Born in Parma Italy in 1608, he became a professor of mathematics in Venice and was introduced into politics by the French ambassador who befriended him. When he began to write history, in favor of France, Richelieu gave him access to his archives, and later Mazarin offered him a pension.
Tallemant [Gédéon Tallemant des Réaux]: Born a Protestant in La Rochelle, he came into financial ease by wedding Elisabeth de Rambouillet whose mother Madame de Rambouillet hated Louis XIII and filled the young Tallemant’s head with stories from the courts of Henry IV and Louis XIII, stories proved true by multiple sources and of huge historical interest. Tallemant put them together--along with his own research--in his best known work, Historiettes. He died a converted Catholic in Paris in 1692 at age 73. Catherine de Vivonne, Marquise de Rambouillet, Elisabeth’s mother [called simply Madame de Rambouillet] had been beautiful when young, genuinely kind, and a woman who lacked all prejudices, opening her salon to literary figures--thereby advancing their careers--as well as nobles and actors. Molière wrote his chef-d’oeuvre Les Précieuses ridicules on the salons inspired by Rambouillet’s salon, cheap salons compared to the original, but hysterically funny imitations.
(1) See my book Cellini.
(2) See my book Homosexuality in Renaissance Italy.
(3) See my book TROY.
(4) See my book the Saint Bartholomew Day Massacre.
