Episode #55: True Crime/Fine Art: Caravaggio the Murderer, and Murdered? (Season 6, Episode 2)
This season we’re learning that true crime and art history are two genres that have smashed together with some fascinating results. Today’s show: a look into our favorite bad-boy artist, Caravaggio— he was a known murderer, but was he himself murdered?
Please SUBSCRIBE and REVIEW our show on Apple Podcasts!
SPONSORS
The Great Courses Plus: get an entire month of courses FREE
Backblaze: get a fully-featured 15-day free trial
Charles and Colvard: get 20% off your first purchase
Episode Credits
Production and Editing by Kaboonki. Additional editing by Hannah Roberts. Theme music by Alex Davis. Social media assistance by Emily Crockett and Caroline Haller. Additional writing and research by Raven Todd da Silva.
ArtCurious is sponsored by Anchorlight, an interdisciplinary creative space, founded with the intent of fostering artists, designers, and craftspeople at varying stages of their development. Home to artist studios, residency opportunities, and exhibition space Anchorlight encourages mentorship and the cross-pollination of skills among creatives in the Triangle.
Additional music credits
The Spring (Instrumental)" by Chad Crouch is licensed under BY-NC 3.0; "The Fifth Life" by Circus Marcus is licensed under BY-NC 3.0; "Prelude" by Yakov Golman is licensed under BY 4.0; "Fae" by Meydän is licensed under BY 4.0; "Autumn Morning (ID 1022)" by Lobo Loco is licensed under BY-NC-ND 4.0; "Rito Occulto" by sawsquarenoise is licensed under BY 4.0; "Fly of the Brants A (ID 950)" by Lobo Loco is licensed under BY-NC-ND 4.0 . Ads: "Pillow Tree: Version 2" by UncleBibby is licensed under BY 4.0 (BackBlaze); "Sanctuary of the Sky Gods" by Nathaniel Wyvern is licensed under BY 4.0 (Charles and Colvard)
Recommended Reading
Please note that ArtCurious is a participant in the Bookshop.org Affiliate Program, an affiliate advertising program designed to provide a means for sites to earn advertising fees by advertising and linking to bookshop.org. This is all done at no cost to you, and serves as a means to help our show and independent bookstores. Click on the list below and thank you for your purchases!
Episode Transcript
It’s hard to name any other artist whose life was so as scandalous as that of Caravaggio’s. We’ve spoken a bit about Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio--known most simply to us as Caravaggio-- in previous episodes of the ArtCurious Podcast, and we’ve talked about him with good reason: the Italian painter was revolutionary in his dramatic artistic style. But he also had a dark side. Caravaggio’s life was full of anger, lust, and violence. Many remember Caravaggio, the artist for his incredible naturalism, his stark use of lighting, and a fascination with the most dramatic elements of a story, which he then translated seamlessly into paintings that are still greatly admired today. Caravaggio the man, on the other hand, has been remembered as violent, boastful and angry, often carrying personal weapons without a permit. It comes as little surprise, then, that Caravaggio, in a heated brawl, killed a man in 1606 and was forced to flee Rome. His days in exile would not last long though, as Caravaggio died just a few years later in 1610. But people have sometimes commented on the strange nature of Caravaggio’s death-- leading to a big question, fittingly dramatic for a dramatic artist and man: we know Caravaggio was a murderer. But was he himself murdered?
Some people think that visual art is dry, boring, lifeless. But the stories behind those paintings, sculptures, drawings and photographs are weirder, crazier, or more fun than you can imagine. In season six, we are uncovering the dastardly deeds of several of art history’s famed artists, including their involvement--or participation--in murder most foul. In today’s episode, it’s the odd circumstances surrounding Caravaggio’s death: what caused it, and how might it link directly to his own experience as a murderer? This is the ArtCurious Podcast, exploring the unexpected, the slightly odd, and the strangely wonderful in Art History. I'm Jennifer Dasal.
Born September 28, 1571, Caravaggio lived a tumultuous early life, which we discussed in episode 47 about his painting, Young Sick Bacchus. Caravaggio was apparently scrappy at an early age, though much of that scrappiness was out of necessity. Though not much is known about his childhood, we do know that when he was only six years old, the bubonic plague hit his hometown and killed nearly everyone in his family, including his father, with whom he was close. As writer Andrew Graham-Dixon noted in his 2011 biography, "Caravaggio: A Life Sacred and Profane," this was the formative moment of his life-- the traumatic event that shaped his future. The loss of his father caused him to act out and sabotage his opportunities throughout his life, regardless of how good they could be for him. As Graham-Dixon writes, quote, "It's almost like he cannot avoid transgressing. As soon as he's welcomed by authority, welcomed by the pope, welcomed by the Knights of Malta, he has to do something to screw it up. It's almost like a fatal flaw." unquote. Orphaned and penniless, Caravaggio took up with a group of painters and lived on the streets, doing what he could to make a living for himself. When he was 11 years old, Caravaggio moved to Milan and began a four-year apprenticeship under the painter Simone Peterzano, where he would have been able to become very familiar with the artistic treasures of Milan and the regional Lombard style of art, which favored more natural forms and simplicity.
Fast-forwarding a few years and we find our man Caravaggio making another move-- this time, in 1592 at the age of 21, he left Milan for Rome. Now, the reasons for this relocation are a bit fuzzy, but many have mused that he wounded a Milanese police officer, which certainly tracks with what we know about the artist’s infamous violent streak. But Rome ended up being a good thing for Caravaggio, because it was there that this troubled artist would make a name for himself, eventually becoming the most famous painter in Rome for a brief period. The city was desperate for new paintings to fill the many churches and palazzos being built at the time, and they needed a stylistic alternative to Mannerism, the late Renaissance style that featured exaggerated proportions and sense of artifice. It was Caravargio’s use of tenebrism--his theatrical use of light and dark-- as well as his attention to detail and high level of naturalism that set him apart from the rest and skyrocketed him to the forefront of the art world. A great example is the commission Caravaggio scored in 1599 for the Contarelli Chapel. After years as a struggling artist, Caravaggio was contracted to decorate the Chapel, producing two works: the Martyrdom of Saint Matthew, and the Calling of Saint Matthew. Caravaggio painted these religious scenes with a supreme sense of drama and heightened with naturalistic details and modern, contemporaneous clothing-- as if these scenes from the life of St. Matthew were
taking place on the streets of Rome during his own time instead of some far-off past. The impact that this made on the contemporary viewer can’t be understated-- it created a heavily emotional impact that allowed viewers to feel as if they were part of the scene, like Matthew could be just like them-- or even BE them. And the Matthew pieces also had a dramatic impact for Caravaggio, too-- his success here guaranteed a steady flow of work for the painter from now on.
Although Caravaggio’s paintings were moving and highly successful, they weren’t without their controversy. One of his most famous scandals was his of a sex worker as a model for his painting Death of the Virgin, a picture of the death of the Virgin Mary meant for inclusion--where else-- in a church. I bet you can imagine that when Caravaggio’s model--and her profession--were discovered by the church patron that it didn’t really go over so well. And the controversy in Caravaggio’s paintings translated into his private life too-- indeed, it seems like they both spilled over into one another. Caravaggio had a short temper, and was known to be a heavy drinker and gambler, and any combination of these elements could lead to trouble with the authorities on any given night or day. Much of what little we do know about Caravaggio’s tumultuous life has been gleaned by researchers and art historians via police logs and court documents. Example 1: He would often roam about town carrying a dagger, sword and even a pistol without a written permit to carry. And he was often fined and written up for such transgressions, and those were on the minor end of things. He was involved in many a street brawl--sometimes even brawling with the police. His temper even went as far as inspiring him to throw a plate of artichokes that were supposedly cooked incorrectly in the face of a waiter in a tavern, and pelting his landlady’s windows with stones after she filed a lawsuit against him for cutting a hole in the ceiling of the studio he rented from her in order to fit his huge paintings inside. To be fair, this sort of behavior was quite common for a man in Rome during this period, although Caravaggio may have indulged in this violence more often than others. In a society where honor was everything, violence was common as a method to avenge someone’s pride, and restore their good name. And Caravaggio was cocky about his actions and justifications for said actions because his work brought him in close proximity to the wealthiest, and most powerful, of Rome-- in short, he must have believed that he could get away with things because his patrons could game the system and have his back. But that wasn’t to be the case, and the artist’s most violent act would lead to the declaration of a death sentence by Pope Paul V, and force Caravaggio into exile for the remainder of his life.
That’s coming up next- right after this break. Stay with us.
Welcome back to ArtCurious.
May 29, 1606 proved to be a turning point in the brief life of Caravaggio. On that day, he met a temperamental man by the name of Ranuccio Tomassoni, a nasty piece of work practically as well-known for street brawling as Caravaggio himself, and rumored in some places to make his living as a pimp. To make matters worse, Tomassoni had strong familial connections to some powerful gangs in the city-- and yes, 17th century Rome was rife with gang warfare. So-- things weren’t looking great to begin with.
The meeting between Caravaggio and Tomassoni was allegedly meant to settle a wager on a tennis match. The original story goes that Caravaggio lashed out after this tennis match, killing Tomassoni in a fit of rage-- poor sportsmanship taken to the utter extreme. However, it turns out that this might be a totally incorrect explanation for the events that unraveled that day. Quick backstory: the primary source for the traditional tale of Caravaggio’s descent into murderous rage comes from a single man: a fellow painter-turned-art-historian named Giovanni Baglione. And who was Baglione’s sworn enemy? Caravaggio. So this strange tale of tennis gone wrong must be read with this important detail in mind. And what’s more: in recent decades, new archival discoveries have shed light on this event, transforming it into a slightly different story of honor and redemption.
Maurizio Marini, a leading art historian and one of the world’s experts on Caravaggio, believes that Caravaggio and Tomassoni were probably friends, or at least acquaintances who, at some point, had an argument that set off a deadly chain of events. A tennis match may have been involved-- that part may actually have been true-- but Marini believes that the match was actually a precursor to a good, old-fashioned duel. But just what was the duel over, and was death the ultimate goal of this argument? Marini might have an answer to these questions, and it comes with the help of another historian, a Vatican scholar named Monsignor Sandro Corradini. Corradini reexamined the surviving historical documents that recorded Tomassoni’s fatal injuries, as written by the barber-slash-surgeon who examined Tomassoni’s corpse. The document, Corradini notes, concludes that Tomassoni bled to death through the femoral artery in his groin, having been floored during the duel. From this new evidence, he believes that Caravaggio must have pinned Tomassoni to the ground and then made a rather clumsy attempt to castrate him. A swashbuckler Caravaggio was not, and Tomassoni most likely moved just as Caravaggio stabbed him, and instead of being castrated, his femoral artery was severed, and Tomassoni died quickly after.
Now, the reasons for the conclusion of castration are based not only on the position of Tomassoni’s wound, but also based on Roman street-fighting tradition. Believe it or not, the location of wounds in Roman duels had particular meanings, usually based on location, as a sign of the wrongdoer’s deeds and punishment, as well as a nice severe warning to other potential wrongdoers. For example, if a man insulted another man's reputation, he might have his face cut in a duel. But, if a man insulted or assaulted a man's lover or wife, he would get his penis cut off. Given this tradition, it seems that Caravaggio may not have just lashed out after a game of tennis gone poorly, but that he was avenging the honor of a woman in his life in a way that was utterly in keeping with the culture of his day.
So who was this woman that caused such tension between Tomassoni and Caravaggio? Marini has a theory-- he believes the woman to be Fillide Melandroni, a sex worker involved with both men. Caravaggio met Melandroni when he was commissioned to paint a portrait of her for one of her other clients, an Italian nobleman. Portrait of a Courtesan, also known as Portrait of Fillide (now sadly destroyed), is a soft, sensual, and created with care, with Fillide’s dark hair piled luxuriously upon her head and her hands holding a small bouquet of flowers to her breast. She’s beautiful, and she was apparently one of the most popular and successful courtesans in all of Rome, so it’s not difficult to imagine that Caravaggio may have fallen for her charms, as so many others did. In fact, he was so taken with Melandroni that he used her as a model for numerous saintly women in his paintings, including but not limited to Saint Catherine, Mary Magdalene, and Judith, the Old Testament heroine who beheaded the dreaded Assyrian general Holofernes. Caravaggio using a sex worker as a model wasn’t new or shocking-- lots of people did it, and Caravaggio had obviously done it before and would do it again, as he did with his painting The Death of the Virgin. But his relationship-- possibly more than platonic-- with Fillide Melandroni may have been an especially fraught one, because Tomassoni may not only have been her lover, too, but chances are good that he was also her pimp.
But would Caravaggio and Tomassoni fight over the affections of a woman whose job it is to sleep with others? It kinda comes with the territory, so I’m not sure. But Art historian Andrew Graham-Dixon has an alternative theory as to the identification of Caravaggio’s mystery woman that makes a bit more sense and connects more closely to both the artist and to Tomassoni. In his BBC Documentary Who Killed Caravaggio, Graham-Dixon presented archival evidence that both men had supporters who attended them during their duel--another fighting tradition. But the identities of Tomassoni’s supporters is interesting: he chose to bring along his brother, as well as two brothers-in-law, his wife’s brothers. This was curious to Graham-Dixon, who questioned why Tomassoni’s wife’s family would be present at a duel regarding a sex worker, when he could have easily chosen any other men to back him up-- friends, other pimps, and so forth. For Graham-Dixon, this brought the Fillide Melandroni theory into question, as well as the whole reason for the duel: what if it wasn’t just about avenging the honor of one woman, but the honor of an entire family instead? Could Caravaggio have been sleeping with Tomassoni’s wife?
Graham-Dixon certainly thinks so, even theorizing that Tomassoni’s wife gave birth to Caravaggio’s love child. But naturally, this is all speculation, so we can never know for sure. What we do know is that Caravaggio fled Rome almost immediately after the duel, condemned as an outlaw by Pope Paul V himself, who issued a bando capitale sentence against the artist, which effectively granted permission for anyone within Papal territories to kill Caravaggio. Upon presenting his severed head to the pope as proof of the artist’s execution, a tidy reward would certainly have been waiting. So with who knows how many self-assigned foot soldiers on his tail,
Caravaggio escaped, possibly to Florence and Modena before ensconcing himself in Naples, where he lived for nine months before moving on to the island of Malta, just south of Sicily and to the Southwest of Italy’s boot. Like many a detail in Caravaggio’s life story, the exact reasons details for the move to Malta aren’t totally known, though some have theorized that he hoped to gain admission to the military order of the Knights of Malta, officially known as the Sovereign Military Hospitaller Order of Saint John of Jerusalem. Malta was ruled and protected by this famous military order, and thus his acceptance into the order in 1608 may have, in his mind, provided ample protection from his enemies. A related tangent here: records exist to show that Caravaggio essentially “bought” his way into the Knights of Malta via the presentation of a work of art-- his painting, The Beheading of St. John the Baptist, today in Valletta, the capital of Malta. This image isn’t quite as frightening at first glance as Caravaggio’s Judith Beheading Holofernes, but it’s shocking upon a closer look: the executioner has begun cutting John’s throat with a sword, but he then reaches behind his back to pull out a sharp, short dagger from its sheath, letting us know that John is not yet dead, and that his decapitation is not due to be swift but instead slow, sawing, and extraordinarily painful. And in the single instance of it in his career, the blood pooling from John’s wound drips down to form the artist’s signature. It is the only work Caravaggio is ever known to have signed. Some have thus noted the personal significance of this painting, and its delivery to the Knights of Malta, as a sign of gratitude, for salvation from a similar fate.
Getting the backing of the Knights of Malta was a good plan, in theory. But of course, just because Caravaggio up and moved to Malta doesn’t mean that he wasn’t the same violent, temperamental person he had always been, and only months after his induction into the Knighthood, he found himself in prison for assault, injuring a fellow knight. Naturally the whole incident didn’t go over well with the Knights of Malta, who expelled him from their order due to his quote “foul and rotten” countenance, unquote. And thus Caravaggio had made another set of enemies, and when he escaped from prison in Malta--yep, he really made a break for it-- he then continued his hectic existence of hopping from place to place to seek refuge, still painting all the while, wherever he landed for any period of time.
If the facts regarding Caravaggio’s time in Malta are scant, the final year and a half of his life are really muddied by time. What we do know is that he jumped around, to Sicily and back to Naples again, until the summer of 1610, when Caravaggio died at the age of 38. But what exactly led to his death has long been a question that has confounded us. Some noted that he died of a fever, or possibly malaria, syphilis, or some other illness. Still, the threat of violence has long hung over this tale. Did one of Caravaggio’s many foes finally catch up to him and kill him? Since no records survive regarding his death, it’s been difficult to say, and most historians have claimed illness, as stated previously, as the main culprit. But two discoveries in the past ten years have thrown new light on this old mystery.
In 2010, a group of Italian scientists announced that they believed they had located the bones of Caravaggio-- long lost, and thought for many years to have been abandoned and dumped into the ocean. After following a document trail that led them to a cemetery in the city of Porto Ercole, the group found a set of bones that, with DNA extraction and carbon dating, was a close-enough match to the artist’s known details of height and weight that the scientists declared their identification as 85% certain--which, you know, is a solid B average, but it’s all we’ve got thus far, so I’ll roll with it.
One of the other interesting things discovered in the 2010 analysis was that the probable bones of Caravaggio contained high levels of lead, which is a wonderful identifier of artists throughout time, especially prior to the 20th century and, you know, health warnings and all that. Caravaggio, like many other artists before and after him, used lead-based paints and probably wasn’t too careful with his pigments or his brushes-- and it could lead to a little thing called lead poisoning. In some cases--like that of Vincent Van Gogh-- it can lead to madness, which could explain any number of Caravaggio’s erratic outbursts. But in extreme situations, lead poisoning can lead directly to death. And so, the scientists determined that lead poisoning--perhaps in conjunction with other elements, such as infections and sunstroke-- most likely lead to the artist’s demise. It’s an artsy kind of death, at least, given the direct connection to the artist’s profession, but if true, it’s a sad and bland end to an otherwise epic life. Hmm. How meh.
Which is why a new report from just last year as of the release of this episode-- 2018-- is so fascinating. That year, a team of seven scientists affiliated with the Mediterranean University Hospital of Marseille analyzed, and I quote, “the blood vessel-filled dental pulp of Caravaggio’s molars through a combination of DNA detection and protein sampling.” Their goal? To get down to the nitty-gritty on all of these rumors surrounding Caravaggio’s death. So they tested the “dental pulp” for evidence of three diseases or infections-- syphilis, malaria, and brucellosis, an infection also mentioned as a possible cause of the artist’s death, and one we mentioned briefly in Episode 47 of this show. But the test results showed no evidence of these illnesses. What they did find, though, was curious-- proof that Caravaggio died of sepsis, or blood infection, triggered by golden staph, a common bacterium found on people and tolerated in small doses, but one that can lead to serious illness, or even death, if not treated. What’s so interesting about this conclusion is that it lines up with the long-suspected theory that Caravaggio died from an attack on his life. Scholar Andrew Graham-Dixon has claimed that years of painstaking research has led him to reconsider an incident in Caravaggio’s late life, during his final days in Naples. There, Graham-Dixon believes that the artist was attacked by none other than the same knight that Caravaggio had maimed in Malta, with the knight possibly seeking vengeance for his assault. Caravaggio was badly, badly injured with several sword-slashes, according to Graham-Dixon, and while it is a possible miracle that the artist walked away without being killed, it looks like it was only a matter of time before the reaper came after him. On his way back to Rome--possibly to seek penance for his crime of murdering Ranuccio Tomassoni-- Caravggio succumbed to a staph infection from his attack and died, buried in Porto Ercole. It still may be speculation, but it’s speculation brought on by scientific study and the best-possible reading of an enigmatic artist’s life, and that’s pretty great. Plus, in a dark way, it is a natural mirror of Caravaggio’s own deeds: a man who may have murdered to be killed himself in yet another bloody altercation. The end, here, is thus strangely fitting-- an epic end to an epic life.
Thank you for listening to the ArtCurious Podcast. This episode was written, produced, and narrated by me, Jennifer Dasal, with additional research help by Raven Todd da Silva. Our theme music is by Alex Davis at alexdavismusic.com, our logo is by Dave Rainey at daveraineydesign.com, and social media help is by Emily Crockett and Caroline Haller. Our production and editorial services are provided by Kaboonki. Video. Content. Ideas. Learn more at kaboonki.com. Additional editing is by Hannah Roberts. The ArtCurious Podcast is sponsored primarily by Anchorlight. Anchorlight is a creative space, founded with the intent of fostering artists, designers, and craftspeople at varying stages of their development. Home to artist studios, residency opportunities, and exhibition space Anchorlight encourages mentorship and the cross-pollination of skills among creatives in the Triangle. please visit anchorlightraleigh.com.
The ArtCurious Podcast is also fiscally sponsored by VAE Raleigh, a 501c3 nonprofit creativity incubator. We’re a fully independent podcast, and we rely on sponsors and donations to keep us going, so if you enjoy this show and have the means, please consider giving $10 to help this show, and thank you for your kindness. And if you don’t have money to give, that’s okay! You can help our show as well by leaving a five-star review on Apple Podcasts or wherever you listen-- believe me, it makes a huge difference and helps new listeners tune in. For more details about our show, including the image mentioned in this episode today, please visit our website: artcuriouspodcast.com. We’re also on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram at artcuriouspod.
Check back in two weeks as we continue to explore the unexpected, the slightly odd, and the strangely wonderful in the true crime realm of art history.
