I N the claustrophobic gloom of Caravaggio’s 1610 The Martyrdom of Saint Ursula, a dark, burly man is shoving his way into the centre of the frame. His expression, mouth open, is enigmatic: is he coming to cheer on the executioner, whose bow has just fired the fatal shot or to rescue the saint looking down with calm acceptance at the quivering arrow piercing her breast? Is he merely excited at the drama? He certainly looks, as described by a contemporary, ‘a stocky young man… with thick eyebrows and black eyes’. It is unquestionably a self-portrait of the artist and, whatever his intention, he is acting exactly as he did throughout his short, turbulent life—barging his way towards, rather than away from, trouble.
The painting is coming on loan to the National Gallery in London from the Banca Intesa Sanpaolo, undoubtedly the greatest work in the institution’s collection of 35,000 works of art. In the narrow, windowless gallery specially designed to showcase it in Naples, the city where it was painted, it has an eerie effect. A slot cut through a thick wall gives visitors a chilling glimpse before they enter the gallery. In reproductions, the effect is less evident, but in the flesh the contrast is brutal between the ruddy skin tone of the executioner—a king of the Huns whom the virgin saint has refused to marry— and the almost phosphorescent pallor of Ursula and Caravaggio, as if both are already dead.
Denne historien er fra April 10, 2024-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra April 10, 2024-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Kitchen garden cook - Apples
'Sweet and crisp, apples are the epitome of autumn flavour'
The original Mr Rochester
Three classic houses in North Yorkshire have come to the market; the owner of one inspired Charlotte Brontë to write Jane Eyre
Get it write
Desks, once akin to instruments of torture for scribes, have become cherished repositories of memories and secrets. Matthew Dennison charts their evolution
'Sloes hath ben my food'
A possible paint for the Picts and a definite culprit in tea fraud, the cheek-suckingly sour sloe's spiritual home is indisputably in gin, says John Wright
Souvenirs of greatness
FOR many years, some large boxes have been stored and forgotten in the dark recesses of the garage. Unpacked last week, the contents turned out to be pots: some, perhaps, nearing a century old—dense terracotta, of interesting provenance.
Plants for plants' sake
The garden at Hergest Croft, Herefordshire The home of Edward Banks The Banks family is synonymous with an extraordinary collection of trees and shrubs, many of which are presents from distinguished friends, garnered over two centuries. Be prepared to be amazed, says Charles Quest-Ritson
Capturing the castle
Seventy years after Christian Dior’s last fashion show in Scotland, the brand returned under creative director Maria Grazia Chiuri for a celebratory event honouring local craftsmanship, the beauty of the land and the Auld Alliance, explains Kim Parker
Nature's own cathedral
Our tallest native tree 'most lovely of all', the stately beech creates a shaded environment that few plants can survive. John Lewis-Stempel ventures into the enchanted woods
All that money could buy
A new book explores the lost riches of London's grand houses. Its author, Steven Brindle, looks at the residences of plutocrats built by the nouveaux riches of the late-Victorian and Edwardian ages
In with the old
Diamonds are meant to sparkle in candlelight, but many now gather dust in jewellery boxes. To wear them today, we may need to reimagine them, as Hetty Lintell discovers with her grandmother's jewellery
