Prisonbreak!

I know I've been slow in getting back to the blog.  Here's why.  I spent the final week of the trip up north on Lake Como, where access to internet was limited, and I was pretty tied up with working.  It was a perfect, thoughtful end to an intense and restless month.  And then I flew back to the States -- unpacking, settling in, hunting for a job, planting the garden, and, of course, continuing to work on this first draft.

But I don't want to turn away from the blog without writing more about one of the most thrilling days of the trip -- my visit to Fort St. Angelo in Malta. As I mentioned somewhere earlier, the Fort will be closed for the next five years or so while it undergoes extensive renovation. Hung on the front gate is a charming "Sorry we are closed" sign, as if it's only a roadside diner after-hours and not a 1200-year-old fort.

I was lucky enough to get a private meeting with the curator of the National Museum of Art in Valletta, who made a couple phone calls, gave me an address, and told me to race over to the Inquisitor's Palace in the town of Vittoriosa, where I would rendezvous in thirty minutes with the curator of the Fort, an ambitious young guy who just finished grad school and landed the job a few months before.

First, a few words about Caravaggio's time in Fort St Angelo. We don't know the full story about why he was jailed there, and, to be honest, we don't know for sure that he was, but the evidence is fairly solid. Fresh findings have emerged regarding the altercation that landed him in the slammer. At that point, he was already a Knight of Malta, although not a very high-ranking one, because he didn't have noble blood. He had been knighted because of his talent. The Grandmaster was enamored with a portrait Caravaggio painted of him, so he petitioned the Pope for special permission to make him a Knight, which was difficult to get, mostly because Caravaggio had committed a homicide, and there were strict rules against granting knighthood a known murderer.  But the Pope eventually agreed, which is especially ironic considering that the Vatican had a standing death sentence on Caravaggio at the time.

One evening, he and a group of other Knights threw a rowdy house party. It got out of hand, shots were fired, and when the smoke cleared, the owner of the house, who was also a Knight of Malta, was dead. Caravaggio himself wasn't blamed for the murder, but he was already on the shitlist for other unknown offenses, so he was punished for his involvement more severely than he might have been otherwise.  They threw him in the dungeon in Fort St Angelo that was reserved exclusively for Knights.

I entered the deserted Fort with my guide, and we climbed up through this tunnel towards the higher levels.

In the photo below you can see a square metal lid on the ground, bottom-right.  That's the entrance to the cell where Caravaggio was incarcerated.  The second photo shows my guide lifting the lid.

The cell is shaped like a bell, wider at the base, and there is no way in or out except by ladder through the opening in the roof. There is also, of course, no electric light, so the photos below are not top quality. But you can see where previously jailed Knights carved their names and even their coats-of-arms into the stone walls. The last time the prison was used regularly was around 1570. That's when these carvings would have been made. There were some pretty hefty cockroaches darting around the cell.

Considering the design of the cell, Caravaggio could not have escaped without help and a lot of luck.  No one had ever escaped from Fort St Angelo before. He did it at night, and ropes were left behind, leading the authorities to believe he scaled down the side of the castle walls. A fews days later, he appeared in Sicily, so he must have had a boat waiting at the base of the Fort and sailed immediately for Siracusa.

My guide let me explore the area around the cell to figure out Caravaggio's most likely escape route. Once out of the dungeon, he surely would have crossed the courtyard below [the building on the left was not there at the time], and he would have bee-lined for the north wall, almost a straight shot from the cell and the shortest sailing route out of the Grand Harbor. The Fort walls are slightly angled, as you can see in the third photo below, so he could have almost walked his way down using the ropes. The final photo shows a view of Fort St Angelo from Valletta.  According to my theory, he would have escaped on the left, where you can see some extra structures at the level of the water. Those structures wouldn't have been there at the time. The walls would have ended in the harbor.

Maltese Buses

Malta has the coolest buses on the planet.  Read about them here.

I'm in Milan at the moment, leaving in a few minutes for Lake Como, where I'll be working for the next week in a villa offered to me by a very generous supporter on Kickstarter.  I don't think I'll have internet access up there, or certainly not regularly, so my final posts -- about the prison escape, the Archibishop's Palace in Mdina, etc. -- may have to wait until I get back to the States, which is in about 9 days.

Thanks for reading.

Beheading of St. John the Baptist

There are two paintings by Caravaggio in Malta – St. Jerome Writing (above), a quiet, dark portrait of the saint waking up in the middle of the night to jot something down, and the massive, magnificent Beheading of St. John the Baptist.  I love the Jerome painting.  It calms me just to look at it.  But the Beheading is a masterpiece, one of Caravaggio’s greatest and certainly a touchstone work of European art.  It’s his biggest painting, by far – 3.6 meters tall and 5.2 meters wide (approx. 12 x 17 feet).  The figures are larger than life-size.

The painting depicts a moment during the beheading in which John has already been struck by the executioner’s sword, and now the man has drawn a knife from his belt to finish the job.  With the exception of the old woman covering her face with her hands, the other characters appear unaffected by the act.

Helen Langdon wrote: “It is an ignoble scene.  John does not kneel as is customary in art, but is brought low on the ground, and his body is trussed like that of a sacrificial lamb, his hands tied behind his back, his red cloak suggesting blood, and a rope snaking across the floor.  Action is arrested, and the group, earthbound, downward-looking, is utterly still, gesture and expression muted.  Caravaggio emphasizes the reality of John’s death in a gloomy prison, unattended by angels; the threat of the prison, the terror of torture and punishment, are powerful – this was a place where justice was meted out.”

This is Caravaggio’s only signed painting.  Written with the blood that has spilled from John’s neck, he scrawled: “f. michel.” – meaning Fra Michelangelo, Brother of the Knights of Malta.  The Beheading was most likely painted as his passaggio, an offering to the Order that was given by prospective knights.  It was commissioned to hang in the Oratory, which, among other uses, was the setting for criminal trials.  Ironically, on December 1, 1608 – a few months after completing the painting and two months after escaping prison and fleeing the island – a trial was held for Caravaggio in abstentia to defrock him and cast him out of the Order of St. John.  The trial took place directly underneath his painting.