For this episode on the martyrdom of John the Baptist, I thought we had to come here
to Malta to the oratory of the Knights of Malta to look at Caravaggio's extraordinary
over life-size representation of the beheading of the Baptist, which he painted in 1608.
He actually came to Malta, he fled Rome, he had been accused of murder, came to Malta,
came under the protection of the Knights and then was actually made a Knight of the Order himself.
It's very likely that he painted this just in time for the feast day of the
Beheading of John the Baptist. So it must have been unveiled for August 29th.
The other great feast day of the Baptist. The birthday is celebrated in mid-summer and
then the death day in late August.
And the subject of John the Baptist is obviously one that's particularly appropriate because
John is a patron saint of the Knights of Malta and the Knights were traditionally always
associated with the sacred holy places where John preached, where he was buried and so
forth. And they were also responsible for the preservation of relics and of John's relics
in particular, so this is a very important person.
He's really their saint.
Precisely. So you can see why this would be so appropriate for their Oratory.
And it's extraordinary, the composition that Caravaggio's made here with John actually front and centre
but actually being pushed down by the executioner who's sort of essentially stepping on him
and you can see he's begun the execution. Do you see? He's used the sword, he's placed
it on the ground and he's now reaching for a dagger on his side and he's about to finish off the job.
Here on the left presumably we have Salome with her dish ready to receive that head.
That's a reminder of the fact that there's been a very dramatic series of events before
this very dramatic event. John's been imprisoned by King Herod for his very public criticism
of Herod's marriage to Herodias, who was the wife of Herod's brother. During the time of
John's imprisonment, Herod has a banquet to celebrate his birthday and Herodias's daughter,
who isn't given a name in the New Testament but who we know from other sources is called
Salome, dances for the king. And he's so entranced by the dance that he offers her anything she
wants; up to half of his kingdom. She checks it out with her mother and the mother says,
"Ask for the head of John," and that's what she does. And at least one of the accounts
Herod is rather disturbed by this but he grants the wish. We get delivered to this point in
the story. We know that very soon Salome will return to the banquet with the head on its
salver to the various reactions, astonished reactions, of the guests I imagine.
The fact that Caravaggio has shown John in the position that he has, to me it almost
echoes the idea of a bound animal; a sacrificial lamb, which is very powerful because Christ
Himself is interpreted often as a sacrificial lamb and indeed it is John who describes him
as the lamb of God, the Agnus Dei, which is a hugely important text in the Christian liturgy.
Often sung, in fact. That sends that this is an anticipation of Christ's ownsacrifice.
John is the only Christian saint who dies before Christ does and here it's almost as
if he's participating in Christ's death in advance.
You can imagine actually when mass is being celebrated and the chalice is placed on the
altar. It's almost as if it's catching up John's blood, not Christ's blood but in anticipation
of Christ's blood. And something for Caravaggio that he focuses in on that blood in particular.
It's front and center together with John, but actually if you look just to the right,
you'll see that Caravaggio has actually signed his name in the blood and this is the only
signed picture by Caravaggio. Rather extraordinarily he signs it F. Michaelangelo. F probably for
Fra or Frate. He's probably proclaiming his new status as a member of the Knights of the Order.
It helps us date this painting as well. Unfortunately, he's then part of this larger
altercation with others of his fellow knights and he's actually imprisoned for that.
So life imitates art at that point.
Precisely. He's imprisoned here on Malta, in St. Angelo and he flees. You can imagine
to the dismay of the knights, the military knights in the order of Malta, and he flees
to Naples. His biographer Bellori says that in Naples, sort of in expiation for his sins
in fact, he paints a painting very related to the scene that actually represents Salome
holding the head of the Baptist on the platter and he, Caravaggio, then sent it back to Malta
to the Grand Master in hope of reconciliation.
To make amends.
That may well be the painting that we have in the National Gallery today. But that will
be the focus on one of our other episodes.
I'm very struck as we look at this drama that Caravaggio has painted for us a sort of audience
to it in the form of these two other prisoners who are craning their necks at the window
of their cell to see what's going on. It heightens the sense that this is a drama with an audience.
Absolutely, they become witnesses to this horrific event much in the way that we the
beholders standing in front of this altarpiece are witnesses to this very moment in John's
death. And really after Caravaggio paints this altarpiece in 1608, other artists pick
up the subject. It becomes extremely popular for centuries afterwards. For example, a French
painter in the National Gallery collection, Puvis de Chavannes paints almost the exact
same subject and really picks up on the drama initiated let's say by Caravaggio but for
very different reasons and to different ends. So whereas Caravaggio is picking up on these
liturgical aspects that you mentioned, Puvis de Chavannes' painting looks far more like
the backdrop for a theatrical set. So when we get back to London we should have a look at that.
Ben, this is Pierre-Cécile Puvis de Chavannes' rather monumental and unfinished canvas he
painted around 1869. And it's quite interesting in this time period, towards the end of the
19th century, this subject, the beheading, the martyrdom of John the Baptist, became
exceptionally popular with artists, be they poets, playwrights, composers. And there were
figures like Flaubert and Malraux writing about this subject, Oscar Wilde producing
stage plays on the theme. Then Strauss picking that up and composing one act operas. More
interestingly perhaps for us is that increasing prominence of the figure of Salome. She becomes
a major character in all of these versions of the story.
Absolutely, yes. It's as though a certain sort of 19th century Romanticism spills over
into a fascination with the femme fatale, the seductress. Some of the elements of this
story that are actually not terribly near the surface frankly in the biblical account
are explored imaginatively by these artists and it has almost a fairy tale atmosphere,
this painting. But that works in a way because there's a self-contained quality to this story
of the Baptist imprisonment, the feast, the dance and the death. It can be lifted quite
neatly out of the biblical narrative and given a presentation in its own right. It's got
a beginning, a middle and an end, a very dramatic end.
Absolutely. I always imagine that these figures are actually fully self-contained. They all
seem so completely absorbed in their own world. So, even though they are functioning as an
ensemble cast in a way they're also focused in their very own concern with this moment.
Yes. The Baptist himself is absorbed, it seems to me, is absorbed by the cross, which floats
almost weightlessly up from his left hand.
He hardly seems to be holding it.
He hardly seems to be holding it. And yet in turning to the cross and contemplating
it again with this sense of almost quiet submission, at the same time rather movingly he's exposing
his neck to the executioner. So his turn to the cross is at the same time his willing
acceptance of the blow. What do you make of the face of Salome? It's very hard to read.
To me I read that as sort of ambivalent. She's neither horrified nor smug and satisfied as
we do see her in other representation sometimes. And that sort of thoughtful, questioning gesture
that she's making and the way she's holding the salver, the platter, strictly close to
her body there. She's not holding it out to accept the head. It's still very close to her.
So it still seems to be sort of moment of indecision
And in some of the 19th century versions of the story. She's in love with John the Baptist,
so there's a sense in which she might desire his end but also not.
Yes. In later versions of the story it becomes a tale of unrequited love. And yes, John doesn't
return her affections. So she is the one; not Herodias nor Herod, is the one who orders
the Baptist's death. Interestingly the representation here and the quite peculiar inclusion of her
as a redhead, we haven't seen that before, it seems to be actually that this figure of
Salome may well be a portrait of Puvis de Chavannes' mistress. She was a princess, in
fact she was Princess Cantacuzène whom he later married. The idea of including one's
mistress as Salome is quite provocative. Equally, the figure of Herod here making that thumb
gesture may well be a portrait also of an author called Anatole France.
And I suppose it shows how the imaginative identification with the story went all the
way to almost sort of dressing up and joining in with the story and acting it in some way.
I'm very touched by that fallen fig leaf. This tree is almost denuded of its leaves
and there's almost a sense of both lost innocence, the fig leaf falling away. And even more than
that a sense that this is an anticipation of the head tha t's about to fall as the executioner's sword swings.
Absolutely. Interestingly representations of the head of the Baptist on a salver is
something that takes on an entire new life of its own and actually that's something we're
going to explore in the next episode.