# Genius Beast (Caravaggio)

Eduard Dolgunov

Rebellious spirit, inn duels and the incomprehensible genius of chiaroscuro. Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio defies the canons of Rome, turning simple vagrants and sinners into saints on his canvases.

The Genius Monster

Oh great creator Michele,

Who has earned loud fame.

Who has proven to the world in deed,

That you are recognized as the best by right.

Giovan Bellori (the artist's biographer).

— I am asking you, — Caravaggio grimaced and turned to the tavern servant, — which of these artichokes were stewed in butter, and which in oil? Answer, scoundrel!

— Why don't you smell them, signor, — the servant answered calmly, — and as an artist who paints still lifes with vegetables and fruits, you can figure out yourself in what oil they were stewed, and I don't know.

— Oh you scoundrel, — Caravaggio boiled over and, grabbing the plate with artichokes, threw it at the servant's head, — here, taste it! The servant dodged and rushed towards the kitchen. The artist snatched his sword and rushed after him in a rage.

— That's it, — the man sitting at the table shook his head and turned to the other, — signor Gentileschi (Orazio Gentileschi, a familiar artist), let's get out of here. I know him, the scandal will last a long time. Caravaggio will not calm down until he beats someone up, — and leaving the tavern, he sighed, — a terrible character.

— Why is he so violent?

— Orazio shook his head, — can you explain this? Signor Giovanni (Giovanni Battista della Porta - engineer, optician, doctor, close friend of Caravaggio), you are not only his friend, but also a doctor!

— Yes, there are reasons for this, — and pointing to a tavern nearby, he suggested, — let's continue our meal elsewhere. We will not interfere with our friend's brawling and "letting off steam". From here, — he said, sitting down at the table, — we will have a good view of everything. And there will be something to see, — he sighed, — knowing my friend, I promise you that. They ordered food and wine.

— Don't pay attention to these shouts, — laying plates on the table, the tavern servant said, — this is the signor artist "having fun". We know him well, he never leaves without a scandal. Well, here, — he pointed to the square, — our valiant police are right here. Wow, the squad commander himself, Captain Pirro. It means it will be fun. More wine, signors?

— I am asking you, — the captain's voice, — do you have a permit to carry weapons?

— Go to h-ll, — Caravaggio's irritated shout, — how many times do I have to tell you - I have a permit! From the Governor of Rome himself! True, only a verbal one. Sounds of struggle were heard from the tavern and the sbirri (Italian police) led the tied Caravaggio into the square.

— Mediocrities!

— the artist yelled in a rage, — don't you dare twist the arms of a great man, I paint masterpieces with them, and you only wipe your asses. Aha, signors!

— seeing his friends, Caravaggio shouted, — you did the right thing by leaving that stinking tavern. And don't even think of paying for the artichokes that I threw at that scoundrel's head. Wait for me, I will be back soon and we will continue our feast.

— Signor Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, — the captain shouted at him sternly, — let's go already. You are a well-known personality in our police, quite the brawler. I can remind you what is written in one of the court records: "One moment he almost breaks his neck, the next he puts another in mortal danger. Signor Caravaggio lacks the knowledge of sublime things." So, when you return will be decided by the court.

— No, no, my friend, — said Battista della Porta, seeing Orazio jump to his feet, — sit back down. We won't help him now, and with our interference we will only do harm, believe me. They know him in the police, in the court too, so he will get off with just a fine and our help will consist in paying it and it will be no less than 100 scudi (the currency of Italy in the Middle Ages). And now, let's continue the meal and talk about our friend. The friends sat back down at the table.

— Caravaggio, a man with a difficult character, — pouring wine into glasses, Giovanni said, — explosive, unrestrained, a reveler, a brute and a bully, regularly sinking to the social bottom and repeatedly ending up in prison. Those who know him, — having taken a sip of wine, he continued, — describe him as "an uncouth man, with rough manners, always dressed in rags and living wherever he has to. Moreover, drawing street boys, tavern regulars and pitiful tramps, he looks like a completely happy person."

— My God, — Orazio said in confusion, — is this really all about our friend? I am amazed!

— Oh no, — Giovanni smiled, — this is only a small part of the personality of this great artist, genius and rebel. The story of his life is striking. Take, at least one fact - after another fight, Caravaggio ends up in the Tor di Nona prison, where he sits in the same cell with Giordano Bruno, and after some time, working for Cardinal Francesco del Monte, at the Villa Madama he meets Galileo and Campanella. Do you want to, my friend, — Battista della Porta stood up and took a glass of wine in his hand, — I'll read you some poetry. Yes, yes, they even dedicate poems to him:

He was known as an excellent portraitist,

Workbench, easel, tripod.

A true son of art, of colors,

He mastered the technique of "chiaroscuro" color shadows,

Transferred the melody of the soul to the canvas.

Without sketches or drawings, a master-genius,

He twisted the sun's light and shadow with a ray.

He was an excellent brawler,

At the slightest provocation, fists would fly.

He was lively, slightly gloomy, frank,

Only to win! What do sins and bruises matter!

That's how poets describe our friend. But that's not all, — Giovanni sighed, he took a sip of wine and thoughtfully repeated, — not all by far. I have been friends with him for many years, but even I cannot say that I have understood this man completely. And yet I know much more about him than others. Do you want, — narrowing his eyes, he looked at Orazio, — I'll tell you about Caravaggio what nobody else knows?

— Of course, — the interlocutor exclaimed, — I want it very much. I swear, I won't tell anyone.

— Well, fine, — Giovanni waved his hand, — we still have to wait until our friend returns from confinement, so we have time, — and he held out his glass, — pour the wine and listen. I have something to tell and I'll start with myself. I do science, — he said thoughtfully, — and my physical research is devoted to optics, magnetism, and crystallography. In 1558, I described the "camera obscura" (Lat. Camera-obscura - "dark room") - a device that allows receiving an optical display of objects. This invention has been known for a long time and the great Leonardo da Vinci in his work "A Treatise on Painting" gave a detailed description, and I made some changes, applying a converging lens for the first time. In 1570, I designed and improved a version of the "Camera obscura" and suggested using the camera to execute drawings using a combination of convex and concave lenses for distant and close objects. For my research, I created the physical academy "Academy of the Secrets of Nature", but was accused by the Holy Inquisition of heresy and the Pope immediately closed it. But, I continued working and suggested to my friend Caravaggio to use this method in his work and he immediately agreed.

— I don't understand anything, — Orazio shrugged, — what do paintings have to do with it?

— Have you never wondered, — Giovanni smiled, — why Caravaggio does not make preliminary sketches and drafts for his paintings, as other artists do, but immediately transferred everything to the canvas?

— Yes, — Orazio shrugged, — it always seemed strange to me. And how can this be explained?

— With my help, — Giovanni sighed, — Caravaggio became the first artist to use the technique of the "dark room" - "Camera obscura".

— Scoundrel!

— the woman screamed indignantly, — not only have you not paid me for renting the premises for half a year, but you also punched a hole in the room! Why did you break my ceiling?

— Shut up, stupid woman, — Caravaggio swung his fist at her, — you know me, I'll kill you! Fool! You should be proud that you rented a room to a genius Master. A little time will pass and people will pay you money to look at the hole in the ceiling punched by a great artist.

— You are a great bandit, not an artist, — the landlady clenched her fists, that's it, I am taking you to court.

— What is the essence of the "Camera obscura"?

— Giovanni smiled, seeing the question in the eyes of his interlocutor, — I'll explain now. Caravaggio turned his studio into a dark room with a small hole in the ceiling to get a type of lighting with a narrowly directed beam from above and diagonally, which, when passing through a biconvex lens, was displayed in a concave mirror (these, by the way, are my inventions) and gave an image of objects transferred by the artist to the canvas. That is why Caravaggio had no preliminary sketches on his paintings. Orazio shrugged and whispered, — how can this be?

— It can, — Giovanni shook his head, — it certainly can, — and raised his glass, — and you will see for yourself. Having drunk, he continued.

— Remember how at the beginning of our conversation, you asked me why our friend has such a violent and unbalanced character? Although I am a physicist by education, I studied medicine and, as a doctor, I can explain to you the cause of this problem. I'll start from afar. Caravaggio invented a special powder from crushed FIREFLIES, allowing him to work in absolute darkness. The artist preliminarily covered the canvas itself with a "film" of photosensitive fluorescent materials in order to capture on it an image that disappeared after 30 minutes and the painter had to make a sketch during this time and then fix it with oil paints. To produce such a "film", he used a mixture of white lead with various chemicals and minerals. These substances glowed in the dark, as he added firefly powder to the mixture, which allowed him to paint canvases in a "camera obscura", that is, in complete darkness, and allowed him to apply a special painting technique - "chiaroscuro" - a sharp contrast of light and shadow. One of the main components of the fluorescent mixture was mercury, a highly poisonous substance. Together with lead, it has a detrimental effect on human health, including the psyche and the functioning of the central nervous system, and people whose bodies are constantly exposed to these elements are very irritable, and Caravaggio, with his violent character, was no exception. But we've been talking too much, — Giovanni smiled, — and completely forgot about our daily bread. My good man, — waving his hand he called the servant, — more wine, meat and artichokes. By the way, what oil were they stewed in?

— I wouldn't know, — the servant shrugged, — I'll find out from the cook.

— Eh, — Giovanni chuckled, — if Caravaggio heard you, you'd get it! But we don't care, bring it.

— May I ask, — Orazio asked, pushing aside his empty plate, — why are you telling me such details about signor Caravaggio. Are there reasons for this, or just like that, as a friend?

— Everything has its time, my friend, — Giovanni shook his head, — you will soon understand everything. Tell me, have you seen the painting "Death of the Virgin"?

— No, — Orazio answered sadly, — I know that Caravaggio is painting this canvas, but I haven't had a chance to see it. Yes, and it's understandable, — he sighed, — it's not customary for artists to show unfinished works.

— Yes, — Giovanni shook his head, — it's not customary, and suddenly exclaimed: — Aha, here comes our "convict", — and pointing to the man walking across the square, he shouted, — Caravaggio! We are here! Come here, we are waiting for you with artichokes. Waving his hand he called the servant and said quietly, — go quickly to the cook and find out what oil he stewed the artichokes in, — and pointing to the approaching artist, added, — otherwise you'll be beaten.

— Signor Caravaggio, — Cherubini looked intently at the artist, — so you take on this work?

— I cannot refuse such a well-known man in Rome, — the painter bowed, — of course, I accept your order. Laerzio Cherubini was a famous lawyer who held high positions in the papal administration, a learned and pious man. He commissioned the "Death of the Virgin" for the Cherubini family chapel in the church of Santa Maria della Scala, located in the Trastevere district. This was the church of the recently approved monastic order of Discalced Carmelites, who adhered to strict monastic rules, ideals of humble poverty. It was one of the mendicant monastic orders.

— I hope, — Cherubini said, — that in this work, you will worthily depict the end of the earthly path of the Most Pure Virgin, the arrival of Jesus himself and the assumption of the Most Holy Theotokos.

— I will make every effort for this, — the artist bowed.

— Hey, what the hell? Where are you going?

— the servant waved his hands and stood in the way of the dirty beggars, — this is a tavern, not a doss-house. Now, get out, — and tried to push one of them, a large bearded peasant, — get out of here.

— You have no right, — one of those who entered wheezed, — and did you see this?

— and showed a few ducats clutched in his hand.

— We have money, — he smirked, — so, bring the grub.

— And wine, — added another, — and plenty of it! The tavern owner approached the table.

— Where is the money from, — he asked, — robbed someone? I don't need problems, I'll call the police now.

— Everything is fine, — said the beggar with a thick disheveled beard, — we didn't rob anyone. And I earned the money. An artist took me as a model, he is painting a picture. Yes, you know him, — he smirked, — that's the one who always brawls and fights.

— Caravaggio?

— the owner asked in fright, — he is crazy.

— I don't know his name, — the beggar shrugged, — but he paid the money. Here, now I am treating my friends with it. The servant brought food and wine.

— It's all kind of strange, — taking a sip from the mug, the bearded man said, — I don't understand anything. I sit near the church, begging for alms. A signor approaches and asks: — Do you want to earn some money?

— To be honest, — he bit off a piece of meat and continued, — at first I was scared. He's a very scandalous man, I recognized him immediately. Fights constantly, and how many times he was taken to the police, and here: — "Do you want to earn some money"?

— Well, well, tell us, — having drunk wine, the friends chattered, — don't keep us in suspense, what happened next?

— We came to his house, — the narrator continued, — went into a completely dark room. He climbed on a chair, moved something and I saw a hole in the ceiling, under which hung a thick piece of glass, through which light entered the room. Then he sat me on a chair and ordered me to cover my eyes with my fingers, and pretend as if I was crying, he put some strange curved mirror on a tripod behind, then stretched a black curtain with a hole in front of me, stood behind it and told me to sit still. I couldn't see him behind the curtain and I don't know what he was doing there. So I sat for three hours. Then he gave me food, wine and told me to come the next day. So I went to him for a whole week. At the end he paid me 10 ducats, with which we are feasting here with you. Oh, yes, I almost forgot, — he waved his hand, inviting those present to bring their heads closer to him and when everyone leaned in, he whispered something mysteriously. The listeners recoiled from the table in horror.

— I say he is crazy, — the tavern owner crossed himself, — by God, crazy! Caravaggio did not like to work long on one painting. He took several orders at once, started painting one, then another, after a while he returned to the previous one again, and often started painting a third. He kept the compositions of the plots in his head and used methods known only to him. According to people who knew him - "he worked for 2-3 weeks, then walked around Rome for 2-3 months with a sword, drank, brawled and got into fights, after which he returned to work again". Scandals constantly accompanied him through life. One day, he quarreled with a police corporal, who wrote in the arrest protocol: "Although signor Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio has a weapons permit, it is better not to give him anything sharper than a toothpick in his hands - he is very violent." Another time, wandering around Rome, he met a familiar notary Mariano Pascale, who, as written in the police protocol: ... "had the imprudence somehow to exchange a few words with signor Merisi Caravaggio about the maiden Lena (Maddalena Antognetti - courtesan, model and lover of Caravaggio), after which, the victim signor Pascale received a blow with a sword flat on the back of his head." And the scandals and fights in taverns were constant and often ended in arrests and even prison.

— It can't be, — said one of the beggars, — confess, Lorenzo, did you invent this from being drunk?

— And maybe he is a pervert?

— another asked in fright, — I heard there are such.

— Yes, he is crazy, — the tavern keeper repeated, — I tell you for sure. He has caused scandals in my tavern so many times, — and waved his hand, — for sure, a psychopath!

— Well, I don't know, — the bearded man said, — asked if I had bearded friends like me, and told me to tell him if I heard about any dead young woman. He says he is painting a picture and needs bearded men as models and, — shrugging, continued, — and... a dead woman. And warned me not to tell anyone about it. So, — he put his finger to his lips, — I am silent, to no one, only to you.

— As for me, I don't care, — one of the beggars grimaced, — someone dies here every day. Both men and women, both young and old, so if he wants to know, and even pays for it, then why not tell him? And what he will do with them is not our business. Wants to paint, let him paint, it won't diminish them. Lorenzo, — he turned to the narrator, — you tell me his address, I always want to earn.

— Found a fool, — Lorenzo smirked, — like I'll tell you, I need money too.

— No, no, signor Merisi de Caravaggio, — Cherubini shook his head, — I regret, but this is a decided issue. The parish of the Carmelite church resolutely rejected your work, because, according to their conclusion "it is infinitely far from the correct Assumption of the Virgin". I completely agree with them and we believe that the painting is extremely "blasphemous"! As I was informed, the models for the apostles depicted by you were some sunken, beggarly people, and the grieving Mary Magdalene - a dishwasher from a tavern. And the deceased Virgin Mary herself, — he exclaimed indignantly, — you painted from a drowned prostitute pulled out of the Tiber! This is unacceptable, — Cherubini grimaced with disgust, — the body is swollen, the legs are dirty! Very realistic, signor artist, but no one ever allowed themselves to paint the Virgin Mary like that. In your painting there is not even a hint of ascension, future resurrection and eternal life.

— But, signor Cherubini!

— Caravaggio sharply objected, — I thought that since the church of Santa Maria della Scala is located in one of the poorest areas of Rome, it is necessary to show an emotional, realistic death scene accessible to the simplest and most uneducated parishioners. After all, one can express a feeling of sincere and deep sorrow only for a deceased person.

— I am ending our conversation, — Cherubini said haughtily, — a new painting has already been ordered from another master and we no longer need your services. Goodbye, signor artist. You don't have to return the advance, although I doubt you remember the amount received five years ago.

— My friend, — Giovanni asked in surprise, — what brought you to me at such a late hour? What happened?

— I beg your pardon, — Caravaggio sighed, — but unforeseen circumstances have arisen. May I come in?

— And so?

— having heard the story, Battista della Porta looked at the artist inquiringly, — do you think your landlady will go to court?

— There is no doubt, — Caravaggio grimaced, — she has already applied. After talking to her, out of anger I broke all the glass in the windows of her house with stones, and she cannot forgive this. Yes, I flipped out!

— he exclaimed, — but why the hell did she make a scandal for me? Kept repeating: — saying, aren't I ashamed, aren't I ashamed? Saying, some dirty beggars come to visit me, and was especially indignant, why did I drag a drowned woman into her house? What is her business? The stupid woman doesn't understand that I am an artist, and use various people as models, including beggars, and sometimes even dead ones. You see, I am ruining her reputation and she is squeamish! And these stupid claims that I haven't paid the rent for seven months? So what? When I sell the painting, I'll pay! Giovanni, my friend, — Caravaggio sighed, — I need your help. It may happen that the court will decide to confiscate my property to pay the debt, and I have nothing else besides the paintings. I beg you, let them temporarily stay in your house, — and tossing his head, he repeated, — I assure you, temporarily. Until I settle with this squabbler.

— So, these paintings ended up in my house, — Giovanni sighed, — though, they were soon picked up by the customers. Now only one remains - the "Death of the Virgin", which you just saw. What can you say about it?

— A masterpiece!

— the artist replied enthusiastically, — a real masterpiece! But I have no idea how, with such a lifestyle, parallel to the "Death of the Virgin" Caravaggio painted another 29 paintings! I am amazed! But, please, tell me, — he looked inquiringly at Battista della Porta, — what happened next? What happened?

— That is exactly what I want to talk to you about, — Giovanni answered and, taking the artist by the arm, led him into the hall.

— Please, have a seat, — he pointed to one of the two armchairs, between which fit a small inlaid table on which stood two glasses, a voluminous jug and a dish with nuts. Pouring the wine, he said thoughtfully:

— I remember this day well - May 29, 1606. Closer to midnight, the servant reported to me that signor Caravaggio had arrived and asked me to see him urgently.

— What happened, my friend?

— Giovanni asked anxiously, — you look awful!

— This time, it seems, I got myself into a serious mess, — the artist muttered and sitting in the chair, whispered, — I killed my friend Ranuccio Tomassoni.

— Killed!

— Giovanni exclaimed, — is he dead? How did this happen? Where? When?

— Today during the day, at the Campo Marzio playground, we were playing ball, — Caravaggio said quietly...

— I won this game, — Ranuccio exclaimed happily and smirked triumphantly, — playing ball is a serious matter, it's not like daubing paintings. Hand over my winnings, signor artist, 10 scudi!

— What did you say?

— Caravaggio turned pale and, snatching his sword, rushed at his opponent, — daubing paintings, you say?

— What are you doing, signors?

— the referee shouted, — stop immediately, — but the young people did not hear him. A fight broke out, in which spectators from both sides immediately took part.

— Caravaggio killed Ranuccio, — someone's piercing cry, — look, Tomassoni is dead. The young man was lying on the playground. Blood was still oozing from the wound on his chest.

— I didn't want to kill him, it happened by accident, — Caravaggio looked imploringly at Giovanni, — believe me. My God, what to do now?

— Stay with me for now, — Battista della Porta sighed, — let's look at the reaction of the authorities and then decide. The next day in the local information sheet (such a "newspaper") a message about the incident appeared. They announced "bright memory to signor Ranuccio Tomassoni, son of the former colonel of the garrison". It was a serious crime and avoiding punishment was impossible.

— Charges of premeditated murder have been brought, — Giovanni said, reading the information sheet, — Pope Paul V has declared you an "outlaw". And this means, — he looked at Caravaggio, — that any person who meets you on the territory of the Papal State can kill you and even get a reward for it. Battista della Porta filled the glasses with wine.

— And what happened next, — Gentileschi asked anxiously, — what did Caravaggio do?

— There was no way out, — Giovanni sighed, — and Michelangelo went on the run. First he got to Naples, my hometown, from where with the help of my friends, he left for Malta, where quite soon, thanks to his talent, he made a good career. Commissioned by the Grand Master Wignacourt, he paints the magnificent painting "The Beheading of Saint John the Baptist". This work so impressed the Master that on his recommendation, Caravaggio becomes a Knight of the Order of Malta. But he again showed his rebellious character and broke the law, bursting drunk with a company of knights into the house of a member of the "court of honor". The knights, given their noble descent, were soon acquitted, and Michelangelo was stripped of all knightly titles and put in prison, where he is now, sitting in a stone bag.

— Signor Battista, — the artist asked excitedly, — how much of this is true and how do you know this?

— I got this information from my friends living in Malta, signor Gentileschi, — and I trust them completely. They have a secret informer working in the prison.

— God, how hard it is for him, there, in a stone bag, — Orazio sighed and asked quietly, — can we help our friend?

— That's why I invited you to my place, — Giovanni again poured wine into the glasses, — I have a plan. Can I count on you?

— I am all ears, signor Battista, — the artist nodded, — you can count on me.

— And so, signor Gentileschi, — taking the artist by the hand, Battista said, — did you understand me well? Let's repeat our plan once more before the journey.

— Don't worry, — Orazio said, — I'll do everything right. Upon arriving on the island, I find your friends, (I have the address), give them the money and immediately leave back. No one should see me.

— Yes, — Battista raised a finger, — no one! My friends already have an agreement with their acquaintance in the prison, they give him the agreed amount and he arranges Caravaggio's escape. Michelangelo will be delivered to the port, put on a ship and he sails to Naples. Well, and then according to circumstances. Two years passed.

— Glad to see you, signor Gentileschi, — Battista shook the artist's hand, — come into the house, please. They went into the hall and sat in the familiar armchairs.

— After all, you didn't invite me for nothing, signor Battista?

— Orazio asked, — as I guess, there is news from our friend.

— Yes, — taking a glass in his hand, Giovanni said, — there is news and it is not the most pleasant. I received a letter from my friends from Malta, — and handed the papers to the artist, — please, read it aloud. "Respected signor Battista della Porta! I hasten to inform you that the other day I met with a prison guard where the signor Caravaggio known to you had the misfortune to serve his sentence. From this gentleman, I learned the details of your comrade's fate after the escape. Boarding the ship, signor Caravaggio sailed to Sicily, where he met with his old friend from Rome, a certain Mario Minniti. They rented a house, there signor Caravaggio set up a studio, where he painted two pictures - 'Adoration of the Shepherds' and 'Resurrection of Lazarus', and, with the latter, a huge scandal arose. According to the models, for the authenticity of the image, the artist ordered them to bring a corpse dug out of the grave into the studio. When the models refused, threatening with a dagger, he forced them not only to bring it, but also, while he was painting the picture, to hold the body that had already begun to decompose in their arms. The case received wide publicity, but the artist paid no attention to it. After a year of staying in Sicily, Caravaggio received news of his possible pardon and dropping everything, he set off for Rome, but, in July 1610, on the denunciation of the agents of the Order of Malta who were tracking the fugitive, he was captured in the port city of Porto Ercole and thrown into prison, from where he escaped again. Upon learning that the ship with all his property, including the paintings, had sailed away, he fell seriously ill from distress and died of a fever in the local monastery hospital and was buried in a common grave for beggars. All this information was obtained from the agent of the Order of Malta who was following signor Caravaggio and is reliable. Sincerely. (Signature)." Gentileschi fell silent and, raising his eyes, whispered, — My God! A great master and what a fate!

— Yes, — Battista said with sadness, — it is very sad. It is a pity that he left so young, and yet how many masterpieces he could have painted. True, — he added, — with his character, people do not live long. He filled the glasses again and, looking intently at the artist, pronounced, — as sad as it is, but life goes on and I have a proposal for you, signor Gentileschi.

— I am listening to you, — putting the glass on the table Orazio said, — I am all ears.

— You know, — Battista said, — that for several years I kept the painting "Death of the Virgin" painted by Michelangelo, subsequently rejected by the customers - Laerzio Cherubini and the Parish of the Carmelite church. Fleeing from justice after the murder of Ranuccio Tomassoni, Caravaggio gave me the right to dispose of it at my discretion. Some time ago, a court painter and confidant of the Duke of Mantua Vincenzo Gonzaga, a certain Peter Paul Rubens, a budding artist who bought works of art for the ducal collection, unexpectedly turned to me. Upon seeing the painting, he was delighted and advised the duke to buy it (by the way, he made good money on the commission from the deal), which he did. So, the painting found a worthy connoisseur of beauty, and I am sure that it is destined for a great future.

— It's a pity I didn't see the painting again, — Gentileschi shook his head, — and I am even more upset that my daughter, Artemisia (Artemisia Gentileschi - the first woman elected a member of the Academy of Fine Arts in Florence), a passionate admirer of Caravaggio, did not see it.

— I assure you, — Giovanni smiled, — she will see it more than once. This masterpiece can no longer be hidden and, sooner or later, from a private collection, the painting will be put on public display. And now let's move on to the main thing. Remember, — Battista leaned towards the artist, — I told you that, by education, I am an engineer and have been dealing with the problems of optics for many years?

— Yes, I recall, — Gentileschi nodded, — but I don't understand what relation this has to me?

— I will explain now, — Giovanni smiled and continued, — tell me, you know about the existence of the "Camera obscura", don't you?

— Yes, I heard about this, — the artist shrugged, — but I was never interested in it.

— But our friend Caravaggio, — Battista sighed, — was very interested indeed and I helped him in this. I'll tell you a secret - he very actively used this camera in his work, and this allowed him to be so prolific. We worked in close cooperation - I improved the optics used in the camera, and his merit was the invention of a special coating, it was used to process the canvases on which he painted his masterpieces. We advanced a lot in our research, but unfortunately, the irreparable happened, he died. However, — he looked intently at Orazio, — the research is not finished and in order to continue the work, another artist is needed. We have known each other for many years, I trust you completely and, in case of agreement, a very fruitful cooperation awaits us. After the sale of the painting "Death of the Virgin", I have money and I am sure that Caravaggio would not hesitate to donate it to continue our business. How do you like my proposal?

— Respected signor!

— Gentileschi stood up and held out his hand to Battista, — I am a big fan of Caravaggio's work and will be glad to continue his cause, so, I accept your proposal. I am sure we will succeed. Giambattista della Porta (Giovanni Battista) — 1535-1615. Close friend and technical consultant of Caravaggio. Engineer, doctor, alchemist, philosopher, playwright. One of the first scientists in Europe. His physical research was devoted to optics, magnetism and crystallography. Designed an improved version of the "Camera obscura", the predecessor of the projection lantern and the modern camera. (Orazio Gentileschi 1563-1639.

— friend of Caravaggio, artist of Florentine Mannerism, the best and most talented representative of the Caravaggio school. From 1625 to 1639 he lived in England and held the position of court painter to King Charles I.) During the entire period of his work he painted 58 paintings, while up to 1610 - 18 paintings, and after the death of Caravaggio, from 1611 until the end of his life - 40!

— Attention please, — the guide raised an umbrella with multi-colored strings over her head, — ladies and gentlemen! You have 30 minutes of free time, then we gather at this spot and go on a tour of Fort St. Angelo, where in the Middle Ages there was a prison in which the famous artist Caravaggio served his sentence.

— Somehow I don't recognize this place, — taking his plumed hat off his head, Caravaggio looked around, — the landscape is completely unfamiliar.

— And what do you want?

— Battista smirked, — that after four hundred years the same landscape remained. Of course, some things have changed here.

— What 400 years?

— the artist was amazed, — what are you talking about? Signor della Porta! What is happening, where are we?

— We, my friend, are in the future world! According to my calculations, — he thought for a few seconds, — somewhere in the 20th-21st century. From the point of view of magnetism and conceptual philosophy, this is not reality, but represents mental content to a set of individual things based on an existing similarity or coincidence between them.

— Did you yourself even understand what you just said?

— Caravaggio waved his hand, — can you say in simple language, how did we end up here?

— Calm down, my friend, — Battista looked at the sky, — this is the result of the refraction of rays passing through the prism of time. Don't worry, it happens. And in simple language it can be said like this: The devil knows! Some force returned us from the afterlife, but not to ours, but to a future time.

— Okay, — Caravaggio smirked, — spit on it, to the future, so to the future. My weapon is with me, — he grabbed the blade of the sword hanging at his side, — so we don't have to worry. Although, — he looked in surprise at the multitude of people scurrying around, — I don't see weapons on the men. Walking in some torn pants, and the ladies, generally, in underpants! Who are these people?

— he turned to Battista, — and, what are these boxes hanging on their chests, into which they constantly look and which produce some glare?

— Listen, man!

— a guy with a cap on his head, hung with chains, with huge iron earrings in his ears approached Battista and, patting him on the shoulder, asked, — why are you and your friend in such outfits, are you shooting a movie? Class!

— and taking a camera off his chest, he said, — be a friend, snap me with the chick. Giovanni took the camera in his hands and began to examine it in confusion.

— What, you can't get out of character?

— the guy burst out laughing and said, — listen, village, press this button here, — he pointed his finger, — a light will flash here, and a birdie will fly out from here. Come on! Having followed the instructions given, Battista returned the camera to the owner and, watching the couple leave, turned to Caravaggio.

— Michelangelo!

— he whispered, stunned, — do you know what I was just holding in my hands?

— and swallowing saliva convulsively, he said, — it's a Camera obscura! It's a miniature Camera obscura!! This is what I have been doing my whole life and now I understand - my work was the predecessor of the camera of the future! Can you imagine?

— he said with enthusiasm, — by the way, you too, took a direct part in this!

— God, what is this?

— suddenly interrupting him, Caravaggio cried out, — are these my hallucinations?

— he pointed his hand at a group of people in medieval clothes approaching them. Michelangelo and Battista froze in place and looked at them stunned.

— Yes, this is..., — stuttering, Caravaggio pronounced, — yes, it's...

— Leonardo da Vinci, — nodding his head, the first of those who approached said and pointed to his companion, — and this is Lisa del Giocondo, my favorite model.

— Raphael Santi, — the next one smiled, — and turned to his companion, — Margherita Luti, my beloved woman and my model.

— Michelangelo Buonarroti, — the elderly man said gloomily, — just a sculptor and painter.

— Sandro Botticelli, — the man bowed, pressed his hand to his chest and turned to his companion, — and this is the incomparable Simonetta Vespucci, the beloved of my friend and my favorite model.

— I somewhat stand out from the friendly group of Florentines, — the cheerful man smiled, — let me introduce myself - Dutchman Rembrandt Harmenszoon van Rijn, and this, — he pushed forward a short woman, — Saskia, my beloved wife and model.

— And whose model am I?

— a young woman peeked from behind Rembrandt's back, — where is my artist here?

— Maddalena!?

— Caravaggio exclaimed, — how come you are here too? Jumping up to the girl, he hugged her.

— Maddalena Antognetti, — he solemnly proclaimed, — my model and lover!

— Oops!

— the already familiar guy in the cap jumped to the company, — I knew you were shooting a movie here. Angelica!

— he waved to his girlfriend, — stomp over here, let's take a picture with the artists. Yes, spit on those prison ruins, — he said to the approaching girl, — so what, 400 years ago, some stinking artist escaped from the dungeon, and what, do we have to look at these stones now? I think that over these years he had already managed to scramble far away from here, — he laughed again.

— Who is a stinking artist here?

— Caravaggio's face changed upon hearing what was said and, grabbing his sword, rushed to the guy. Battista blocked his way.

— My friend, — he said quietly, — wake up, it wasn't enough just to get into prison again, especially since we don't know what conditions there are in the 21st century. Believe me, my friend, everything that is happening is an illusion, a conceptual illusion. This does not exist, this is not real.

— So, Angelica, — the guy was showing stormy activity, — come on, stand near that man with the beard. Grandpa, what's your name?

— Michelangelo, — the old man muttered and added, — Buonarroti.

— Here, — he pushed the girl in the back, — stand next to this Miki, — and burst out laughing again, — see what a giant he is! "A meter in a hat", he will be right up to your shoulder.

— What are you, — Battista turned to the guy, — do you want to use a Camera obscura?

— Exactly, a camera, — the guy smirked, — only I don't have a Jap, but a "Nikon"! Come on man, come on already, stand, — and having placed everyone in a semicircle, he cheerfully shouted:

— Attention! Look more cheerful, more cheerful, a birdie will fly out of here now. Angelica!

— he winked at the girl, — hug that old man, more passion, hug him, he is bored! Everyone loudly shout "Ch.. E.. E.. E.. SE"! Battista looked carefully and with immense interest into the lens. Click... the flash blinded him. The flash blinded him.

— Master, wake up, — the servant shook his shoulder lightly, — you asked to wake you up early. A rumble and another flash.

— Federico, what is this?

— Battista asked and opened his eyes, — what kind of light is this?

— Lightning, — the old servant answered, — this is thunder and lightning. There is a strong thunderstorm outside. Not for nothing my joints ached and twisted the day before.

— Lightning, — Giovanni smiled, — yes, it's just lightning! Camera obscura, some Nikon, genius artists, Caravaggio..., — Battista whispered and finally woke up, — ah, what a dream! What a sweet dream!

— Signor Gentileschi is already waiting for you, — Federico helped his master to get out of bed, — you made an appointment with him.

— Ah, signor Orazio!

— greeting the artist, Battista exclaimed, — if you only knew what a dream I had! I'll tell you now.

— Aren't you ashamed, — the guide was indignant, — the whole group is waiting, and you are wandering somewhere.

— Yes, the artists didn't let Angelica and me go, — the guy in the cap made excuses, — they are shooting a movie here, so they hooked us, saying they liked us very much. Here, look what photos I took with the artists, — and took the camera off his chest.

— Well, and where are the artists?

— the guide was indignant, — what are you telling me? Aren't you ashamed? The guy in the cap became petrified.

— Angelica!

— he wheezed, — what is this? In the picture, his girlfriend was standing and hugging the air. There was no one else in the frame! As you there, A.S. Pushkin, say: "Genius and villainy are two incompatible things"! Well - Well!!!