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Authors: Desmond Seward
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centuries, then found but dismissed as a copy, this picture—now in Detroit—has been widely accepted as genuine.
In the old Roman Missal, the Lesson for the Mass of Mary Magdalen’s feast day, taken from the Song of Solomon, contained these words: “Swear to me, then, maidens of Jerusalem, by the wild things that roam in the woods, by hart and doe, that you will not wake my beloved untimely. Hold me close to your heart, close as ring or bracelet fits; not death itself is so strong as love, not the grave itself as love unrequited; the torch that lights it is a blaze of fire.” This would have been read out in church, in the simple, easily understandable Latin of the Vulgate.
A year or two later, Caravaggio painted a portrait of Fillide Melandroni as she really was, totally impenitent,
The Courtesan “Phyllis.”
Although the picture perished during the destruction of Berlin in 1945, we can see what it looked like from old photographs. No longer posing as a saint, hard, predatory and cheerful, in real life Fillide must have been been recognizable at once as a highly professional prostitute. What is so impressive is the painter’s insight into her nature and his ability to convey it.
Despite the lack of interest in classical statuary that so horrified Bellori, Caravaggio’s
Narcissus
seems to have been partly inspired by a well-known antique statue of a boy drawing a thorn out of his foot. The artist was far from ignorant of the classics, probably better read than we realize. A crouching Narcissus, his sleeves rolled up, gazes entranced at his reflection in a pool, a boy with a sensual face and loose lips. Some detect a Christian message—know yourself in order to know God. Since its discovery in 1913 by Roberto Longhi, the painting’s authenticity has been constantly disputed, but after a recent restoration, bringing back its luminous quality, it has again been generally attributed to Caravaggio.
He produced the occasional still life, though Bellori says “he painted such things with very little pleasure and always felt unhappy at not being able to concentrate on painting people.” He once told an enthusiastic patron,Vincenzo Giustiniani, that as much patience was needed for a really good picture of flowers as for one of people. Several still lifes have been attributed to him, but the only example definitely known to survive is a
Basket of Fruit
, commissioned by Cardinal Federigo Borromeo, who, when he left Rome, took it with him to Milan, where he gave it to the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana. The fruit in the basket is strangely autumnal and appears to have been chosen so as to catch the precise moment when it begins to decay. There are some overripe grapes and figs, an apple with a worm in it, an almost rotting pear, and an aged peach, all placed among spotted, withering leaves. Odd and melancholy, the picture has a wistful, haunting beauty.
Bellori was obviously impressed by another of Caravaggio’s still lifes, lost long ago, though he says mistakenly that it was painted for Arpino, when it was almost certainly done for Cardinal del Monte. “He painted a carafe of flowers with the transparency of the water and the glass, and the reflection from the room’s window, sprinkling the flowers with fresh dewdrops.” Caravaggio may have been inspired by Jan Brueghel, “Flower Brueghel,” whose patron was Federigo Borromeo. He could even have met Brueghel, who lived in Borromeo’s palace near the Palazzo Madama, and had perhaps seen his own
Carafe of Light
, now at the Villa Borghese.
Caravaggio painted many pictures during his years at the Palazzo Madama, although it is impossible to date any of them with certainty. Others have been lost. Meanwhile, his marvelous talent was beginning to be recognized all over Rome, Cardinal del Monte presumably singing the praises of his brilliant young discovery: “Caravaggio, as he was called by everybody from the name of his birthplace, attracted more and more interest each
In the old Roman Missal, the Lesson for the Mass of Mary Magdalen’s feast day, taken from the Song of Solomon, contained these words: “Swear to me, then, maidens of Jerusalem, by the wild things that roam in the woods, by hart and doe, that you will not wake my beloved untimely. Hold me close to your heart, close as ring or bracelet fits; not death itself is so strong as love, not the grave itself as love unrequited; the torch that lights it is a blaze of fire.” This would have been read out in church, in the simple, easily understandable Latin of the Vulgate.
A year or two later, Caravaggio painted a portrait of Fillide Melandroni as she really was, totally impenitent,
The Courtesan “Phyllis.”
Although the picture perished during the destruction of Berlin in 1945, we can see what it looked like from old photographs. No longer posing as a saint, hard, predatory and cheerful, in real life Fillide must have been been recognizable at once as a highly professional prostitute. What is so impressive is the painter’s insight into her nature and his ability to convey it.
Despite the lack of interest in classical statuary that so horrified Bellori, Caravaggio’s
Narcissus
seems to have been partly inspired by a well-known antique statue of a boy drawing a thorn out of his foot. The artist was far from ignorant of the classics, probably better read than we realize. A crouching Narcissus, his sleeves rolled up, gazes entranced at his reflection in a pool, a boy with a sensual face and loose lips. Some detect a Christian message—know yourself in order to know God. Since its discovery in 1913 by Roberto Longhi, the painting’s authenticity has been constantly disputed, but after a recent restoration, bringing back its luminous quality, it has again been generally attributed to Caravaggio.
He produced the occasional still life, though Bellori says “he painted such things with very little pleasure and always felt unhappy at not being able to concentrate on painting people.” He once told an enthusiastic patron,Vincenzo Giustiniani, that as much patience was needed for a really good picture of flowers as for one of people. Several still lifes have been attributed to him, but the only example definitely known to survive is a
Basket of Fruit
, commissioned by Cardinal Federigo Borromeo, who, when he left Rome, took it with him to Milan, where he gave it to the Pinacoteca Ambrosiana. The fruit in the basket is strangely autumnal and appears to have been chosen so as to catch the precise moment when it begins to decay. There are some overripe grapes and figs, an apple with a worm in it, an almost rotting pear, and an aged peach, all placed among spotted, withering leaves. Odd and melancholy, the picture has a wistful, haunting beauty.
Bellori was obviously impressed by another of Caravaggio’s still lifes, lost long ago, though he says mistakenly that it was painted for Arpino, when it was almost certainly done for Cardinal del Monte. “He painted a carafe of flowers with the transparency of the water and the glass, and the reflection from the room’s window, sprinkling the flowers with fresh dewdrops.” Caravaggio may have been inspired by Jan Brueghel, “Flower Brueghel,” whose patron was Federigo Borromeo. He could even have met Brueghel, who lived in Borromeo’s palace near the Palazzo Madama, and had perhaps seen his own
Carafe of Light
, now at the Villa Borghese.
Caravaggio painted many pictures during his years at the Palazzo Madama, although it is impossible to date any of them with certainty. Others have been lost. Meanwhile, his marvelous talent was beginning to be recognized all over Rome, Cardinal del Monte presumably singing the praises of his brilliant young discovery: “Caravaggio, as he was called by everybody from the name of his birthplace, attracted more and more interest each
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