XXXIII
Frustratingly, there is even less detailed information about Caravaggio’s visit to Palermo than there is about his time at Messina. We know for certain that he had left Sicily altogether by early October 1609. Bellori and Susinno both say he went to Palermo and painted pictures there. Until thirty years ago, one of these might still be seen in the Palermitan church for which he had been asked to paint it. Yet although the artist’s stay was obviously very short, with his painter’s eye it must have been quite long enough for him to realize why Palermo deserved the affectionate name ofLa Felice.
It lay at the edge of the Conca d’Oro, the “Golden Shell,” a vast and staggeringly fertile garden of olive groves, vineyards, and orangeries beside the Mediterranean, on a wide bay bounded by a great mountain to the north and a wooded headland to the south. Its situation surpassed even that of Naples. By all accounts, it was among the most beautiful and exotic cities in seventeenth-century Europe. Its bizarre architecture, an amazing blend of Byzantine, Romanesque, Arab, and African, was now being joined by Baroque, while the vegetation was almost Egyptian, with palm trees, cotton trees, locust trees, sugar cane, and cacti.
Palermo was not only the crowning place of the kings of the Two Sicilies, but the island’s historic capital and administrative center. The viceroy’s palace was here, and the Sicilian parliament met in the city every three years. This was a period when Sicilian nobles were deserting their castles and moving into Palermo. In consequence, there was plenty of money circulating in the city, so that a famous artist like Caravaggio had every prospect of quickly finding valuable commissions.
Almost as soon as he arrived, he produced a large Nativity for the church of the Oratorian Compagnia di San Lorenzo. He must have worked with amazing speed, or completed an already almost finished canvas that he brought with him in response to a specific invitation. Once again, there is a distinctly somber atmosphere in what is a traditionally joyful scene, as if in sad contemplation of the coming sorrows of Christ’s Passion. One suspects that it reflects the painter’s own melancholy.
At the very end of September, or possibly the very beginning of October 1609, Caravaggio left Sicily for good. Bellori claims that, after painting the Nativity, Caravaggio did not feel safe about staying there any longer. But he appears to have exaggerated the artist’s fears in saying that he had hurried panic-stricken through the island. Even so, it does look as though he received news at Palermo that terrified him.
Susinno tells us that Caravaggio “went back to Naples again, pursued by his injured antagonist.” Apparently, by “injured antagonist,” Susinno did not mean the unlucky schoolmaster whom the artist had assaulted at Messina but the unknown Knight of Justice with whom he had quarreled so disastrously on Malta. Presumably, the latter had by now recovered from the wounds inflicted during the duel and was reliably reported to be planning a revenge. One historian has suggested, as a reason for leaving, that “Palermo must have been less pleasant to visit than Messina: Spanish control was more evident, and life was dominated by the Inquisition.” Spanish control would be no less in evidence at Caravaggio’s next port of call, Naples, while there is not the slightest hint that he had reason at any stage of his career to fear investigation by the Inquisition, which dealt purely with deviations from Catholic doctrine and was not interested in mere moral lapses such as dueling or murder. What little information we have indicates that he fled from Sicily in fear for his life.
Caravaggio must have had to return to Messina from Palermo, since it was the invariable point of embarcation for the crossing from Sicily to the mainland. If he made the crossing on board a merchant ship, he would have gone through the choppy waters of the Straits of Messina, then northward out to sea. Convoys of large, well-armed merchantmen were equipped to deal with any corsairs they might encounter. After four days, they would put in at Ischia, reaching Naples the next day. But because Caravaggio was on the run, he presumably wanted to travel as unobtrusively as possible, so it is much more likely that he hired a felucca. If the crew noticed their passenger’s queer bundles of rolled-up canvas, they could not possibly have guessed that they were valuable.
Since a felucca was too small to risk meeting a corsair, she had to sail by a different route after leaving the Straits of Messina, always keeping as close to the coast as possible. This was far slower than the direct route taken by the big ships, but it was much safer. It is unlikely to have been a comfortable voyage. Being at the end of September at earliest, stormy weather had probably begun to set in, so that it must have been well over a week before Caravaggio’s felucca reached Naples, perhaps even as long as a fortnight. During the last twelve months, the artist had made four sea voyages. Like Odysseus, he had passed between Scylla and Carybdis on more than one occasion. The symbolism may seem oddly fitting for someone whose life was quite so stormy. But, unlike for Odysseus, there was to be no happy ending for Caravaggio.