Il Perdono di Gesualdo: Art, Sin, and Salvation
by William Chaudoin
Carlo Gesualdo, Conte da Venosa (c. 1566-1614)—composer, murderer, and patron of the arts—commissioned the Florentine painter Giovanni Balducci to create the altarpiece, Il Perdono di Gesualdo (fig. 1), in an attempt to alter his own fate. Gesualdo’s plan of intricate, multidimensional patronage is central to his desire to exercise control over what became of his soul. Employing music, painting, and architecture, Gesualdo sought to enhance his relationship with his uncle, Saint Carlo Borromeo.
Featured prominently in the altarpiece, Borromeo’s views on sacred art and music shaped Gesualdo’s patronage initiatives, especially in the latter half of Gesualdo’s life when he fell ill. Through strategic artistic choices, Gesualdo manifests a profound plea for redemption deeply connected to Borromeo, evidenced by his collection of Borromean relics, church-building efforts in the town of Gesualdo, and the inclusion of his uncle in the altarpiece’s narrative. Therefore, we can view Gesualdo’s efforts as an attempt to assert dominion over his fate wherein he grapples with a profound question: can one buy their way into salvation through acts of artistic devotion?
In seeking redemption, Gesualdo confronted the specter of his past sins: an overwhelming fear of what awaited him in the afterlife motivated and complicated his artistic and spiritual pursuits. Scholars Cecil Gray, Catherine Deutsch, and Glenn Watkins have debated Gesualdo’s motivations surrounding the altarpiece, while examining the contribution of his patronage and musical compositions to his social status.1 Carlo Gesualdo was a Neapolitan aristocrat with ancestral ties to the town of Gesualdo, where his family had been in power since the tenth century.2 He is infamous for the murder of his first wife, Maria d’Avalos, and her lover, Fabrizio Carafa, in 1590—an event that would plague his conscience. Reports of the murders emphasize Gesualdo’s frenzied actions, while other apocryphal accounts detail extreme gore and brutality.3 Four years later, Gesualdo married Eleonora d’Este, which exposed him to the innovative music of the Ferrara court, a city that had long been a hub of progressive musical activity.4 Here, Gesualdo published his first two books of madrigals in 1594, which showcased complex chromatic harmonies reflective of his inner turmoil.5 This transition, however, did not absolve his guilt; the weight of his past sins fueled his later acts of patronage, including the construction of two churches in Gesualdo—Santissimo Rosario (fig. 2) and Santa Maria delle Grazie (fig. 3)—the commissioning of Il Perdono di Gesualdo, and an accompanying collection of sacred music.
Early religious and familial connections informed Gesualdo’s patronage initiatives during the latter part of his life as he grappled with his impending mortality and fears of eternal torment. Born in 1566, Gesualdo was influenced by the Counter-Reformation initiated by the Council of Trent, which shaped the practices of sacred imagery and veneration.6 Carlo Borromeo, his uncle and a central figure in this movement, guided Gesualdo’s ecclesiastical aspirations. Gesualdo’s subsequent artistic patronage manifested as an attempt to exert control over his destiny, driven by both his guilt over the murder of his wife and his growing religious zeal. As his health deteriorated and his mortality became increasingly imminent, he turned to religion not only to confront his past actions but also to amend his legacy. His patronage served as a means to realign his fate with the protective power of his uncle, Carlo Borromeo, whether earthly, heavenly, or imagined; the altarpiece Il Perdono di Gesualdo at Santa Maria delle Grazie would symbolize his effort to extend that influence over the fate of his soul.
This effort to secure his salvation is embodied in the altarpiece Il Perdono di Gesualdo, which was commissioned by the prince himself and painted by Giovanni Balducci. Installed in the Santa Maria delle Grazie church in Gesualdo, this work serves as a focal point for both his personal devotion and his legacy. Il Perdono di Gesualdo is structured into three distinct realms: a celestial realm featuring divine figures such as Jesus Christ, the Virgin Mary, the Archangel Michael, Saint Francis of Assisi, Saint Dominic, Mary Magdalene, and Saint Catherine of Siena; an earthly realm that includes representations of Saint Carlo Borromeo, Carlo Gesualdo, and Eleonora d’Este; and a fiery realm depicting winged figures rising above the waiting souls.7 While representations of hell were not uncommon in Post-Tridentine art, the choice to place the figures in purgatory reflects the era’s growing emphasis on intercession and the belief in the transformative power of divine mercy.
In the altarpiece, Borromeo stands beside Gesualdo, his hand firmly resting on Gesualdo’s shoulder. Gesualdo, on bent knee and with clasped hands, gazes upwards toward the heavenly realm with a penitent expression, while Borromeo gestures toward him, interceding on his behalf (fig. 4). The shared focus of both figures, their eyes directed toward Christ, suggests a united plea for Gesualdo’s acceptance into Heaven, which frames the work as a manifestation of Gesualdo’s desire for redemption amidst the weight of his past sins, namely murder and adultery. The juxtaposition of Gesualdo’s penitent stance and Borromeo’s protective gesture visually contrasts the human act of seeking redemption with the divine intercession that promises salvation. This pairing invites reflection on whether salvation can be achieved through artistic devotion—symbolized by Gesualdo’s commission of the altarpiece—or if true redemption requires the authenticity of one’s remorse. It is worth noting that Gesualdo intended for his musical composition, Tenebrae Responsoria (1611), to be performed in front of the altarpiece, further enhancing the depth of his plea.8
Carlo Borromeo’s life and work are crucial for understanding Gesualdo’s motivation for featuring his uncle as an intercessor in the altarpiece (fig. 4). Born in 1538 into the influential Borromeo family of Lombardy, which included Pope Pius IV, Borromeo became the Cardinal Archbishop of Milan in 1564, a position of great ecclesiastical power.9 Despite his family’s opulence, Borromeo chose a life of piety, undertaking barefoot pilgrimages across Italy to emphasize his devotion to God, opening his residence in Rome to pilgrims, and washing the feet of the destitute.10 Carlo Borromeo was beatified in 1602 by Pope Clement VIII and later canonized as a saint in 1610 by Pope Paul V. Il Perdono, at the time of its completion in 1609, features a rare instance of a non-divine figure acting as an intercessor with the divine. Gesualdo would have been aware of Borromeo’s canonization before his own death in 1611. Borromeo’s Instructiones Fabricae (Borromean Regulations) provided guidelines for aligning the physical spaces of churches with the spiritual objectives of Catholicism.11 In his treatise, Borromeo emphasizes the importance of using art as a means of educating and inspiring devotion among the faithful. Gesualdo’s commission of Il Perdono adheres to Borromeo’s principles, reflecting a conscious effort by Borromeo to employ art within sacred spaces for both aesthetic and spiritual instruction.
In the later stages of his life, faced with illness, Gesualdo turned to Borromeo’s teachings, demonstrating his piety through acts of artistic patronage. This veneration is evident not only in Gesualdo’s desire to collect his uncle’s relics after his death but also in the prominent role Borromeo plays in Il Perdono. In correspondence with his cousin, Cardinal Federico Borromeo, Gesualdo requested a portrait of Carlo Borromeo and any relics that might alleviate his ailments. He received a portrait in 1611 and a sandal in 1612, along with additional relics. In a letter dated August 1, 1612, Gesualdo expressed his gratitude, stating:
I could not have expected or received a more precious or desired favor today from the kindness of Your Illustrious Lordship than what you graciously granted me with the sandal that the glorious San Carlo wore pontifically. I greeted and kissed it with great joy and consolation, but it will be preserved and held with due respect and devotion.12
This exchange underscores Gesualdo’s profound reverence for Borromeo and his commitment to seeking solace through relics associated with his uncle’s sanctity. Catherine Deutsch attributes Gesualdo’s fervor in obtaining these relics to his intention to erect a chapel for Borromeo at Santa Maria delle Grazie in the town of Gesualdo. In this devotional context, Gesualdo’s commission of the altarpiece emerges as a crucial element in his overarching plan for salvation, as he sought to honor his uncle while also seeking expiation for his own soul.
Gesualdo’s commission of Il Perdono reflected the influence of Carlo Borromeo’s Instructiones, which emphasized strict guidelines for creating sacred images that align with ecclesiastical practices and historical accuracy. Borromeo insisted that sacred art must avoid false or obscene representations, stressing the need to inspire piety:
… nothing false, uncertain or apocryphal should be represented, nothing superstitious, unusual, so too will be strictly avoided all that is profane, shameful or obscene, dishonest or lewd; and likewise all that is extravagant, that does not inspire men to piety, or that could offend the soul and the eyes of the faithful.13
Gesualdo’s Il Perdono served as both a personal expression of piety and a means of cultivating devotion among the faithful while adhering to Borromean principles. The altarpiece underscores the religious and instructive value of sacred images, reinforcing that such artworks should inspire reverence rather than merely serve aesthetic purposes. As Maurizio Vitta notes, Borromeo prioritized the religious significance of images over their formal qualities, insisting they avoid errors that could be exploited by Reformers.14
Most scholars have interpreted the altarpiece Il Perdono as an emotive and didactic tool reflecting Gesualdo’s desire for expiation.15 However, this view is not universally accepted. Annibale Cogliano, from the Carlo Gesualdo Study and Documentation Center, argues that Gesualdo’s motivations for commissioning the altarpiece and establishing two churches were less about atonement and more about family legacy and status. He asserts that the connection between the altarpiece, the churches, and Gesualdo’s past crimes is tenuous, suggesting that his acts of patronage stemmed from a desire for grandeur rather than a genuine quest for forgiveness.16 Cogliano posits that the interpretation of Il Perdono as a “canvas of forgiveness” emerged from a 19th-century rediscovery of Gesualdo, fueled by literary and religious figures captivated by his history of murder and innovative music. These individuals infused a contemporary romanticism into Gesualdo’s narrative, creating a redemptive lens through which to view the altarpiece. The religious atmosphere in southern Italy in Gesualdo’s time was deeply ingrained in everyday life, suggesting a “contractual aspect” to a sinner’s relationship with divinity, which diminishes the significance of Gesualdo’s altarpiece as a tool for expiation.17
In contrast, musicologist Glenn Watkins highlights the significance of the saints depicted in the altarpiece, all of whom faced and overcame demons, suggesting that Gesualdo’s intent was to surround himself with intercessors. Watkins presents a psychological profile of Gesualdo, linking his quest for redemption to the lyrics of his motets. He argues that, as Gesualdo reflected on his life, he recognized the insufficiency of time to enhance his legacy or erase past sins.18 Consequently, Gesualdo sought divine pardon through the commissioning of the altarpiece and by releasing his most mature musical works—Sacrae Cantiones I and II (1603) and Tenebrae Responsoria (1611)—previously kept private. Watkins views this decision as integral to Gesualdo’s pursuit of absolution in his final years.
Both Cogliano and Watkins focus narrowly on the altarpiece and only one other aspect of Gesualdo’s patronage. Cogliano examines patronage trends in early modern southern Italy, while Watkins emphasizes Gesualdo’s sacred music. This limited scope overlooks the interplay between Il Perdono, Gesualdo’s music, and architecture, particularly in relation to his complex relationship with Borromeo. Exploring these interconnected elements reveals richer dimensions in Gesualdo’s pursuit of redemption and illuminates the intricate links between his artistic endeavors and acts of patronage. Gesualdo’s altarpiece embodies the convergence of themes from Borromeo’s Instructiones, his own musical compositions, and fears of damnation, thereby encapsulating the complexity of his spiritual journey. Just as Borromeo’s Instructiones advocated for active participation in liturgical worship, Gesualdo’s altarpiece stands as a tangible manifestation of his quest for reconciliation and redemption. Additionally, Gesualdo composed and published a collection of sacred music intended for performance before the altarpiece.
Commissioned by Gesualdo himself, the altarpiece invites viewers into a contemplative space where themes of sin, repentance, and salvation converge, echoing the spiritual depth found in Gesualdo’s music and the teachings of Borromeo. Contrary to Cogliano’s assertion that Gesualdo commissioned the altarpiece and churches merely to enhance his family name, his various commissions and musical works collectively reinforced his plea for redemption.19 By integrating a program of sacred music in front of Il Perdono in the church of Santa Maria delle Grazie, Gesualdo orchestrated a harmonious alignment of his artistic endeavors, enhancing the resonance and emotional impact of his plea. The interconnectedness of Gesualdo’s artistic endeavors illuminates the fervency of his quest for redemption. Each distinct work—musical compositions, architectural projects, and visual art commissions—contribute to the multifaceted nature of his supplication. Gesualdo’s endeavors represent a type of expiative plea, highlighting the ambiguous question of whether one can attain salvation through artistic devotion, while leaving us to ponder the sincerity of his quest for forgiveness—an answer that may remain forever elusive.
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William Chaudoin holds a BA in Italian from Vassar College and an MA in Art History from the George Washington University, where his research focused on the early modern period in southern Italy. His scholarship explores the ways in which art and architecture served as mediums of devotion and social influence.
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1. Cecil Gray and Peter Warlock, Carlo Gesualdo, Prince of Venosa, Musician and Murderer (Greenwood Press, 1971); Glenn Watkins, The Gesualdo Hex: Music, Myth, and Memory (W.W. Norton, 2010); Catherine Deutsch, Carlo Gesualdo (Bleu Nuit Éditeur, 2010).
2. Watkins, Gesualdo Hex, 14.
3. The Gran Corte della Vicaria found Gesualdo innocent of a crime, with the report of the crime cataloged in the Archivio di Stato di Napoli. In The Gesualdo Hex: Music, Myth, and Memory (2010), Glenn Watkins examines how the cultural narrative surrounding the murder and Gesualdo’s reputation has cast doubt on the veracity of certain details, particularly the alleged trap set to catch his wife with her lover and the brutal nature of the murder itself.
4. Deutsch, Carlo Gesualdo, 64.
5. Watkins, Gesualdo Hex, 20.
6. The Council of Trent (1545–1563) significantly reshaped Catholic practices and the production of devotional imagery by emphasizing the role of sacred images in educating the faithful and reinforcing doctrinal orthodoxy. As G. T. Harper notes in Carlo Borromeo’s Itineraries: The Sacred Image in Post-Tridentine Italy (2018), the Council’s directives led to a more controlled and didactic approach to art, ensuring that religious images were clear, accessible, and aligned with the reforms of the Catholic Counter-Reformation.
7. Glenn Watkins interprets this depiction as representing purgatory, though the flames and the opening in the scene bear a striking resemblance to the imagery of Hell, particularly the traditional iconography of the mouth of Hell. Regardless of the specific realm depicted, this vision represents a fate that Gesualdo sought to avoid, reflecting his deep fear of divine retribution.
8. Watkins, Gesualdo Hex, 62.
9. Pope Pius IV (1499–1565), born Giovanni Angelo de’ Medici, was the uncle of Carlo Borromeo and played a pivotal role in the Catholic Reformation. His papacy was marked by the continuation of the Council of Trent, which was instrumental in shaping Catholic doctrine and liturgy in response to Protestant challenges. Pius IV’s influence and support were crucial in advancing the career of his nephew, Carlo Borromeo, within the church.
10. Anne H. Muraoka, The Path of Humility: Caravaggio and Carlo Borromeo (Peter Lang, 2015), 54.
11. Borromeo’s Instructiones Fabricae Et Supellectilis Ecclesiasticae was first published in 1577 and stands as the only Tridentine treatise that deals with architecture. For more on its significance, see Robert Sénécal, “Carlo Borromeo’s Instructiones Fabricae Et Supellectilis Ecclesiasticae and Its Origins in the Rome of His Time,” Papers of the British School at Rome 68 (2000): 241-67.
12. Deutsch, Carlo Gesualdo, 129. Translated from French by the author. Original French: “Je ne pouvais attendre ni recevoir aujourd’hui de la bonté Votre Seigneurie Illustrissime une grâce plus précieuse, ni plus désirée que celle que vous avez daigné me faire avec la Sandale que le glorieux saint Charles utilisait pontificalement. Je l’ai accueillie et embrassée avec une grande allégresse et consolation, mais elle sera conservée et tenue avec la vénération et la dévotion qu’il convient.”
13. Charles Borromeo, Stefano Della Torre, and Massimo Marinelli, Instructionum fabricae et supellectilis ecclesiasticae: libri II Caroli Borromei (Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2000), 71. Translated from Italian by the author. Original Italian: “Inoltre, nel dipingere o scolpire sacre immagini, come non si dovrà rappresentare nulla di falso, di incerto o apocrifo, di superstizioso, di insolito, così si eviterà rigorosamente tutto ciò che sia profano, turpe o osceno, disonesto o procace; e analogamente si eviterà tutto ciò che sia stravagante, che non stimoli gli uomini alla pietà, o che possa offendere l’animo e gli occhi dei fedeli.”
14. Maurizio Vitta, “La Questione delle Immagini nelle Instructiones di San Carlo Borromeo,” in Instructionum fabricae et supellectilis ecclesiasticae: libri II Caroli Borromei, eds. Charles Borromeo, Stefano Della Torre, and Massimo Marinelli (Libreria Editrice Vaticana, 2000), 390. Translated from Italian by the author. Original Italian: “Ciò che dunque sta a cuore al Borromeo—come lo era stato ai Padri conciliari—non era il carattere formale delle immagini, ma il loro valore religioso. Data per scontata la natura eminentemente informativa e didattica di esse, era necessario accertarsi che nulla nella loro configurazione potesse aprire un varco all’errore o prestare il fianco agli attacchi dei Riformati. Solo in questo senso vanno intese le minuziose indicazioni circa le figure da accettare o da rifiutare, gli attributi dei santi o il decoro degli atteggiamenti, delle vesti e degli ornamenti.”
15. Many scholars, including Alfredo Bosi, Cecil Gray, Catherine Deutsch, and Antonio Rattalino, have interpreted Il Perdono di Gesualdo as an emotive and didactic tool reflecting Gesualdo’s desire for expiation and redemption through artistic patronage. This view aligns with the broader understanding of the altarpiece as a visual manifestation of Gesualdo’s complex psychological state and religious zeal. However, not all interpretations agree with this view, with some scholars offering alternative readings of the work’s significance and its role in Gesualdo’s patronage within the context of Post-Tridentine religious reform.
16. Annibale Cogliano, “La pala del perdono: topos della seconda metà del XIX secolo,” Centro Studi e Documentazioni Carlo Gesualdo. http://carlogesualdo.altervista.org/pagine/pala_perdono.htm.
17. Cogliano, “La pala del perdono: topos della seconda metà del XIX secolo.”
18. Watkins, Gesualdo Hex, 89-90.
19. Cogliano, “La pala del perdono: topos della seconda metà del XIX secolo.”