by “See Naples and die.” That is to say, so beautiful is this great city that the visiting experience cannot be enhanced. It’s an old proverb, probably coined by the medieval Neapolitan tourist board. But when you stop for a view from the terrace or balcony, you can see their point. The location is glorious. The great bay glistening in the Mediterranean sun, the long arm of the Sorrento peninsula stretches out towards Capri and, to the south, lies most of the shadow of Vesuvius. Sometimes snowy, sometimes smoldering, it adds a sense of volcanic drama – and, let’s face it, a slight air of menace and excitement – to the scene.
However, the unfortunate truth was always in Naples to associate with death. The city may have a glorious and airy look, but it has long had an eternal side. Today, that is largely linked to the dark dealings of the Camorra – the Neapolitan mafia – which is still almost invisible to tourists. One visitor, however, was caught up in the underbelly of Naples, and he died soon after: the artist Caravaggio.
Crowded, intense and edgy
When he arrived here from Rome in the autumn of 1606, the city was in the midst of a transformation. Three times the size of Rome, Spain’s rule was booming in its economy and attracting large numbers of immigrants. A ban on building outside the walls meant that houses were crammed into a grid of increasingly narrow streets, rising six or seven storeys – twice as high as any other city in Italy. That tight network of streets still characterizes the historic core of mainland Italy’s most crowded, austere and prosperous cities, even today.
Caravaggio was welcomed into one of the great palaces of Via Toledo (then and now, the main avenue of Naples). But he would also feel completely at home in the back streets. He had already had a narrow escape from Rome after killing a love rival in a spat (apparently he wanted to cut off his genitals). It was typical of a man of unstable temperament who enjoyed the pubs and taverns of the city as much as he was interested in the palazzo society of his powerful patrons. But even they could not protect him from a charge of murder, and he had to go south to avoid capture.
Neapolitan society did not care about his reputation as a street fighter, and was in awe of his talents. He was the most famous painter in Italy, a country where art was extremely important socially and spiritually. I can’t help but think of the parallels with Diego Maradona in 1984. Another troubled and unpredictable winner, he had just left Barcelona after head-butting an opponent during the final cups. But the Neapolitans did not care; it was his football genius they wanted, and they got his reward. He soon drove Napoli to the first Italian championship in their history and, 40 years later, his image still dominates the city’s memorial stalls.
Four hundred years later, only three of Caravaggio’s images remain in the city. But they are three of his most amazing pictures and give a great insight into his time here. In fact, the first picture he took when he arrived, Seven Acts of Mercy, is a direct reflection of the overflowing and menacing atmosphere of the Neapolitan streets. Still owned by the charity that originally commissioned the commission, it is a claustrophobic nocturnal sight set in a pitch black pile. A single flaming torch represents a confusing mix of figures. One man has fallen to the ground and another, clearly dead, is being carried. Hovering above, the Virgin and child look on anxiously.
At first glance, it looks like it must have been a street fight, like the one Caravaggio left behind in Rome a few weeks earlier. In fact, it is a very unusual morality painting that consolidates all seven acts – including the burial of the dead, the clothing of the naked and the shelter of the homeless – in one tableau. But because Caravaggio loved so much to make his religious scenes feel real and relevant, it also shows the need and vulnerability of the people who lived on the streets of the city.
A tour de force of light and shadow
There is also suffering and compassion in perhaps his most powerful painting, the Badge of Christ. It is a tour de force of light and shadow, menace and longing, made by an artist at the height of his powers just before he left for Malta in the summer of 1607.
Two years later, he was back; but his past was catching up with him. When he left a brewery right next to Via Toledo, his face was slashed by an unknown attack, which was probably contracted by an old enemy. Afterwards, and no doubt suffering badly from his wounds, he made the last painting he was to have, Martyr Saint Ursula, which is also still in the Neapolitan collection. It is also a brutal attack – piercing the saint’s breast with a close arrow. Behind her, in the shadows, a gasp of pain and humiliation distorting his weak features, is the face of the artist himself. It is our last glimpse of Caravaggio. While trying to return to Rome a few weeks later, he died of a fever, probably related to his injuries.
Caravaggio saw Naples and died. But he also endeared her to some of the most powerful and impressive works of art in history.
Fundamentals
Romeo Napoli (00 39 081 017 5001; theromeocollection.com) has doubles from £511 a night.
Wizz Air (wizzair.com), easyJet (easyjet.com), British Airways (ba.com) and Ryanair (ryanair.com) all fly from UK airports to Naples, with fares from £48.
The Last Caravaggio will be in the National Gallery from 18 April to 21 July. Admission is free (nationalgallery.org.uk).
