The Story of Assisi 12

	The Story of Assisi 12

The figure of St. James near the door is of small interest, being a much restored work of a pupil of Perugino; but in the dark corner on the other side is, says Mr Berenson, a youthful work of Fiorenzo di Lorenzo. It is the young St. Ansano holding his lungs suspended daintily from one finger as in the fresco of S. Paolo, and looking so charming in his page's dress, his fair curls falling about his shoulders. He stands at the entrance of a cave with pointed rocks above, and saxifrage and ferns delicately drawn are growing in their crevices. Would that Mezzastris had given his pupil a larger space of wall to work on, so that we might have had more saints and landscapes like these. We leave the chapel with regret, giving one last look at Matteo's Madonna and his frieze of child-angels, and then go out into the long broad Via Principe di Napole. Its fine palaces, once the abode of some of the richest nobles of the town, have now been turned into schools and hospitals, and our thoughts once more revert to the past days of prosperity and magnificence as we walk along this grand but silent street where the grass grows unmolested between the stones. A little way further on to the right is the fine _loggia_ of the _Monte Frumentario_ which in olden times was an agricultural Monte di Pieta, where the peasants who had no other possessions than the produce of the fields would come to pawn their grain in time of need. The door is finely sculptured, and the delicate chiselling of the capitals of the pillars of the _loggia_ mark it as a work of the fourteenth century. Not far from the Chiesa dei Pellegrini, but to the left, stands one of the oldest Assisan houses which does not seem to have suffered much alteration since it was built. It was the lodge of the Comacine guild of workers, who have left their sign of the rose between the compass over the entrance, and two pieces of sculpture, showing that those to whom the house belonged were people who worked at some trade. It does not appear to have been a dwelling-house, but only a place where the members of the guild, employed in building the different civil and religious buildings for the Assisans, could meet together to discuss their interests, draw out their plans and execute different pieces of their work. They probably did not build the house, but perhaps in the year 1485, which is the date above the door, adapted for their use one already standing.[109] It is always pointed out as the _Casa di Metastasio_, but his paternal dwelling is a less interesting house, standing at the angle of Via S. Giacomo and Via S. Croce, which can be reached from the Comacine Lodge by the steep by-street of S. Andrea. Metastasio, though the Trapassi were Assisans, had little to do with the town as his family were engaged in trade at Rome, where he was born in 1698. There he was found improvising songs to a crowd of wondering people by the celebrated Vincenzo Gravina, who adopted and educated him. When set to music, Metastasio's poetry brought all Rome to his feet and earned him the title of Cæsarean poet from the Emperor Charles VI; he ended his life at the court of Vienna as the favourite of Maria Theresa, honoured by all the great musicians of the day. Truly he has little to do with Assisi, yet he must be added to the list of her numerous illustrious citizens.   [Illustration: HOUSE OF THE COMACINE BUILDERS IN THE VIA PRINCIPE DI   NAPOLE] Following the street by the Casa di Metastasio, we get into delightful lanes above the town and reach another little confraternity, the oldest of all, _San Rufinuccio_.[110] Its small chapel, built of alternate layers of pink and white Subasian stone, is a very characteristic example of an Umbrian way-side sanctuary, always open in the olden days for the peasants to come into for rest and prayer. It is worth a visit, not only because the way there is beautiful, but also for the grand Crucifixion painted above the altar by the decorator of St. Nicholas' Chapel in San Francesco. It is a strong and splendid composition, which even much repainting has been unable to destroy. Unfortunately the scenes at the sides can only just be seen. Below, the half-length Madonna and angels by another artist recall the Annunciation of S. Pietro, in the marked outline of their pale faces and the rainbow colour of clothes and wings. Turning off from the Via Nuova to the left we mount still higher through the olive groves along a path possessing no name, but which is the nicest way to the heights above the town. We come in a few minutes to the confraternity of _San Lorenzo_, standing somewhat below the level of the castle. It has nothing of interest inside, but behind the wooden covering of the gateway at the side is a fresco by an unknown Umbrian artist, an Assisan perhaps, who above the Virgin's throne signs himself "Chola Pictor." He paints the faces of his saints with a smooth surface, betraying the influence of Simone Martini which he felt together with many of his fellow Umbrian artists. The Virgin's throne is full of wonderful ornaments; unfortunately the fresco has suffered from a large crack across the wall. Very quaint is a group of hooded members of the confraternity at her feet, and there is a charming figure of St. Rufino, young, with an oval face and brown eyes, but to be seen only from the top of a ladder as he is painted in a corner of the arch. It has been suggested to remove this much-ruined painting to the safer custody of the Municipio, but we hope this will not occur, for, taken away from its gateway on the hillside, where the redstarts build their nests and the evening sun lights up the colour in the Virgin's face, its interest and charm would be lost. THE CASTLE OR "LA ROCCA D'ASSISI" Within her city walls Assisi possesses nothing wilder or more beautiful than the undulating slopes which rise from the city up to the Castle, where wild orchises grow among the grass, and the hedges of acacia wind around the hill. The town lies so directly below, that by stepping to the edge and looking across the white acacias, we can only see a mass of brown roofs all purple at sundown, the tops of towers and the battlements of gateways. Then there are places where the grassy hillocks stand up so high that they hide the town altogether, and we seem to be looking out upon the broad vista of the valley from an isolated peak. At all times it is beautiful; but choose a stormy day in springtime, when the clouds are driving upwards from the plain only lately covered with mist, and the nearer hills are dark their cities catching the late evening sunshine as it breaks through the storm, while wind-swept Subasio looks bleak in the white light showing here and there patches of palest green. And behind us, cresting the hill, so near the town yet seen absolutely alone and clear against the sky, rise the tower and the vast walls of the Rocca d'Assisi, looking, not like a ruin crumbling beneath the constant driving of wind and rain, but as though torn down in war-time, grand in its destruction. It stands upon the site of an ancient burial ground, where in remote times the Umbrian augurs came to watch for omens from the heights of a tower that is said to have crowned the summit. The legend of this building gave rise to the belief that a castle stood here in very early times which was taken by Totila when he besieged Assisi. But it is more probable that when Charlemagne rebuilt the town in 733 after it had been destroyed by his army, he also erected a castle to enable the Papal emissaries to keep the people in subjection; or perhaps the citizens themselves may have wished to protect themselves more securely from passing armies (see p. 16). It ended by becoming, much to the displeasure of the people the residence of whoever held Assisi for the time, and in the twelfth century they experienced the despotic rule of Conrad of Suabia, who lived here with his young charge, Frederic II. When, by the superior power of the Pope, Conrad was driven out of Umbria, the citizens did their best to destroy the walls which had harboured a tyrant, and to avoid further tyranny they obtained an edict forbidding the erection of another fortress. But promises such as these were vain indeed, for when, in 1367, escaping from the hated yoke of the Perugians Assisi welcomed Cardinal Albornoz in the Pope's name as her ruler, she lent a willing ear to his plans for rebuilding the castle. The people were well satisfied as they watched the improvements he made in the town, and two centuries had so dimmed the remembrances of Conrad's tyranny, that they gladly assisted him, little deeming that they were giving away their liberty. Albornoz, not slow to perceive what a valuable possession it would prove to the rulers of Assisi, spared neither money nor efforts to make it large and strong. By his orders the castle keep, which we see to this day, called the "maschio," and the squarely-set walls enclosing it were erected, and in a very few years the Rocca again rose proudly on its hill, warning the Umbrian people of its newly-found importance, and enticing passing _condottieri_ to lay siege to a town that offered so fine a prize. Albornoz also rebuilt most of the city walls which had been so battered during the Perugian wars; we can trace them from gateway to gateway encircling the city, and it is curious to see how in the upper portion near San Rufino large open spaces exist, as if in those active days when the Assisans had hopes of becoming powerful, they purposely set the walls far back to provide for a large and flourishing town. The feeling of arrested growth is one of the most mournful spectacles, and we half wonder if the great castle dominating the heights was not in part the cause of it. There was war enough at the time, inevitable among the restless factions of a people groping towards freedom and power, but here above the town was placed a fresh cause of dissension and struggle against perpetual bondage through varied tyrannies. Albornoz, in planning out the city walls, discovered that the part between Porta Cappuccini and Porta Perlici, where the hill descends towards the ravine, needed protection, so he built the strong fortress of San Antonio known as the Rocca Minore. It had a separate governor or Castellano, and though of minor importance, proved very efficient in repelling the attacks of besieging armies. The principal tower, though somewhat ruined, still looks very fine within its square enclosure of massive walls, now covered in places with heavy curtains of ivy, the home of countless birds. A pious Castellano in the fifteenth century left a fresco of the Crucifixion in the chapel with his portrait at the foot of the Cross, and as we look at it through the wooden gateway we are reminded of what otherwise from the deserted look of the place it is easy to forget, that people once lived and prayed at the Rocca as well as fought.   [Illustration: LOOKING ACROSS THE ASSISAN ROOFS TOWARDS THE EAST] Cardinal Albornoz left the castle in charge of two Assisan captains, but from 1376 an uninterrupted line of governors received their salaries from whoever was master of Assisi at the time. Always chosen from other towns their privileges were quite distinct from those of the civil governors; but in the fifteenth century, owing to the weakness of the Priors, who failed to keep order among the lawless nobles of the town, their power increased. The Papal Legate then gave into the hands of the Castellano authority to issue edicts which the Priors had to obey, and in 1515 he was invested with the title of Podesta and Pretor of Assisi. But none of these governors seems to have misused their power over the town, probably because their rule was of too short a duration to carry out any ambitious scheme. And when the despot for the time being of Assisi came to stay, he took up his quarters in the castle, ruling governors, magistrates and people alike. In the time of the despot Broglia di Trino, we hear of the Priors wearily toiling up the steep ascent to place before him the acts they had passed in the municipal palace. He received them always in the open air, holding his councils either in the first enclosure by the well, or in the second by the castle keep, where many important conclusions were arrived at, and plans for the city's dominion laid out. So perfect is the harmony of the castle from wherever it is seen, that it is difficult to realise how many hands have formed it, how many times its walls have been battered down and rebuilt at different periods by popes, cardinals, and passing _condottieri_, who have nearly all left their arms upon its walls as a record of their munificence. After Albornoz had built the principal mass of fortifications little was done until 1458, when Jacopo Piccinino, the son of the great general, entered Assisi as master, and obtained immediate possession of the Rocca. His reign was short, but with the quick eye of a soldier he soon discovered the weakness of the western slope, and seeing that it might be carried by assault from Porta San Giacomo, he laid the foundations of a polygonal tower and a long wall connecting it with the main building. The Comacine builders established in Assisi were employed and left their sign, the rose between the compass and the mason's square, upon its lower walls. But long before the work was half completed Piccinino sold the city to the Pope, and it was Æneas Piccolomini, Pius II, who, when he visited Assisi in 1459, ordered it to be brought to a termination; within a year the wall was raised to its full height, the tower received its battlements and the arms of the Piccolomini were placed above those of Piccinino. The covered gallery, running along the top of the wall from the castle, still leads the visitor to the giddy heights of the tower whence he obtains truly a bird's-eye view of all the country round, from Spoleto to Perugia, across range upon range of hills towards Tuscany, and from Bettona to the wild tract of mountainous country leading to Nocera, Gualdo and Gubbio. To recount the full history of the castle needs a book to itself, and would include not only the history of Assisi but almost of all Umbria.[111] The possession of the Rocco Maggiore entailed that of the Rocca Minore and gave undisputed sway over Assisi, so that the desperate efforts made to hold it can be understood. During the intervals when Papal authority was relaxed, we find the names of many famous people whose armies fought for this much contested prize. Biordo Michelotti, Count Guido of Montefeltro, the two Piccininos, Francesco Sforza and Gian Galeazzo Visconti, were in succession its owners. Cosmo de' Medici obtained it from Pope Eugenius IV, in payment of a bad debt, and a Florentine governor ruled over it for a year. It even, together with the town of Assisi, became the property of Lucrezia Borgia, who received it from Alexander VI, as part of her dower on her marriage with Giovanni Sforza, Lord of Pesaro. Sometimes it happened that a private citizen of Perugia conceived the ambitious scheme of making himself master of the castle, and by fraud the Castellano would be enticed outside the gates and murdered with his family. But it always ended by Perugia, fearing the wrath of the Pope, or not liking one of their own citizens to gain so much power, sending an army to dislodge the tyrant, who soon lost his head. Sometimes criminals were kept imprisoned in the castle; we can still see the room in the keep where they scratched their names upon the wall, with many references to their horror of the place, and a roughly traced heart pierced with an arrow. Ordinary malefactors were shut up in a dark cell on the stairs. When their crimes merited death they were executed on the Piazza della Minerva, or if time pressed, the Castellano hanged them from the battlements of the fortress or threw them out of a window into the ravine below. The governors had a difficult and not a very peaceful time, for they had not only to guard against outside foes, but occasionally against a faction who attempted to get possession of the castle, and great on those occasions was the fight outside its walls. It was in vain that they took every precaution for the general safety, that a night guard walked up and down the Assisan streets playing his castanets to warn off all evil-doers, or that men-at-arms watched incessantly from the castle battlements. In the sixteenth century the castle became a prey to the rival families of the Nepis and the Fiumi who divided Assisi between them. First it fell into the hands of Jacopo Fiumi and the Pope, Alexander VI, furious when he heard of this citizen's audacious act, wrote that "by love or by force" he would have his fortress back again; but Jacopo remained impervious to threats or promises and held out for another year, until the Priors fearing the anger of the Pope came to an agreement with him. Some thirty years later the Nepis obtained possession of it by treachery and violence, and it required all the astuteness of Malatesta Baglione, who was fighting for Clement VII, to dislodge them, while the Pope branded them and their adherents as "sons of iniquity" for having dared to wrest from the Papacy the castle of Assisi.   [Illustration: VIEW OF SAN FRANCESCO FROM BENEATH THE CASTLE WALLS] But the days of the great military importance of the Rocca were fast drawing to a close; Assisi, no longer oppressed by the nobles, harassed by the armies of Perugia, or alarmed by the coming of the despots whose power was on the wane all over Italy, lost her character of individuality as a fighting and turbulent city, and sank beneath the wise and beneficent government of the Papacy. With the arrival of Paul III, in 1535, the final blow was given to mediæval usages of war and scheming in Umbria. The great Farnese Pope was building his fortress at Perugia to finally crush that hitherto indomitable people, and fearing the Assisans might yet give trouble in the future to his legates as they had so often done in the past, he gave orders that the fortress should be repaired, and a bastion suitable for the more modern methods of warfare be built to the right of the castle keep. This is now the best preserved portion of the building. For some time a Castellano still remained in command of the castle but his title was purely a nominal one, and his chief duty seems to have consisted in guarding prisoners. Its political need having disappeared the popes thought less of their Assisan fortress, the one lately erected at Perugia being more efficient as a safeguard of their interests, and gradually its walls showed signs of decay, but no papal legates were sent to see to their repair. So terribly did it suffer during the years that followed the reign of Paul III, that in 1726 we read of the governor of the city sending an earnest supplication to the Pope that "this strong and ancient castle of Assisi, which had always been the chief fortress of Umbria, should be saved from ruin." The Pope, he tells us in another letter, had already sent Count Aureli, the military governor of Umbria, to inspect it, who declared it was "one of the strongest and most splendid fortresses of the ecclesiastical states, and as fine as any he had seen in France or in Flanders, when as head page he had accompanied Louis XIV." In the same document there is mention also of beautiful paintings in the chief rooms, and of a miraculous Crucifixion in the chapel, but these decorations, needless to say, have long since disappeared. Entreaties were vainly sent to Rome; the castle was so utterly abandoned that its gates stood open for all to roam in and out as they pleased, pulling down the ancient arms of the popes, and vying with the storms to complete its ruin and destruction. Such was its strength that it endured the ill-treatment of seasons and of men, and people now alive remember in their youth to have seen it still roofed in and possessing much of its former magnificence. A little money might have restored it to its pristine state, but during those years of struggle for the Unity of Italy the general fever of excitement invaded the quiet town, and as if remembering all the tyrants their castle walls had harboured, and the skirmishes their ancestors had fought beneath them, the citizens continued its destruction with renewed vigour. It was no uncommon thing to see cartloads of stones being taken down the hill for the construction of some modern dwelling, or boys amusing themselves by throwing down portions of the walls, and trying who could succeed in making great blocks of masonry reach the bed of the torrent below. Luckily the government gave it over to the commune of Assisi in 1883 and they did something towards its repair, though within certain limits, for a large sum would have been necessary to complete its restoration. But it still remains a very wonderful corner of Assisi, and delightful hours may be passed sitting in the castle keep and looking out of the large windows upon a land so strangely peaceful, with little cities gathered on the hills or lying by some river in the plain. We see the battered walls around us bearing traces of ancient warfare, and wonder at the power which made the mediæval turmoil so suddenly subside. In vain we scan the valley for the coming of a warlike cardinal with glittering horsemen in his rear, or look for Gian Paolo Baglione riding hastily through the town upon his swift black charger. The communal armies met for the last time by the Tiber many centuries ago; popes, emperors, _condottieri_ and saints have passed like pageants across Umbria, and as if touched by a magician's wand have as suddenly vanished, leaving her cities with only the memories of an active and glorious past. Thus Assisi, with the rest of the smaller towns, gradually sank as a prosperous and governing city though decidedly not as a place of pilgrimage and prayer, into that deep sleep from which she has never again awakened. FOOTNOTES: [103] Bernhard Berenson, "Central Italian painters of the Renaissance," p. 86. [104] Goethe's Werke, _Italianische Reise_, I., vol. 27, pp. 184, _et seq._, J. G. Cotta, 1829. [105] The key is obtained from the Canonico Modestini's house, No. 27a Via S. Paolo. [106] The legend that St. Francis was born in a stable only dates from the fifteenth century and arose out of the desire of the franciscans to make his life resemble that of Christ. The site of this stable, which is now a chapel, is of no interest whatever. [107] See _Story of Perugia_ (mediæval series), p. 211, for the legend of their origin in that town. [108] The chapel is also called the _Chiesa di S. Caterina_ because the members of that confraternity have charge of it. It is often open, but should it be closed, there is always some one about ready to obtain the key from the house in the same street Via Superba, now Via Principe di Napoli, No. 12, opposite Palazzo Bernabei. [109] See Signor Alfonso Brizi's _Loggia dei Maestri Comacini in Assisi_, No. 1, April 185, of the _Atti dell' Accademia Properziana del Subasio in Assisi_. [110] Both the key of _San Rufinuccio_ and _San Lorenzo_ can be obtained through the sacristan of the Cathedral. [111] This work has been admirably done by Signor Alfonso Brizi. In his _Rocca d'Assisi_, published in 1898, he has given a very interesting account of its many rulers and vicissitudes, and a full description of the building, together with all the documents relating to it. CHAPTER XI _Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli. The Feast of the Pardon of St. Francis or "il Perdono d'Assisi"_ The sanctuary of the Portiuncula has, in its present surroundings, rightly been called a jewel within a casket--a casket indeed too large for so small a gem. But the great Church of Santa Maria degli Angeli was the best the Umbrians could procure for the object they loved best after their Basilica in the town, and the famous architects of the day were called in to build it.[112] A smaller shelter would have served the purpose in earlier times but the ever increasing flow of pilgrims who came in thousands for the "Perdono" rendered it necessary to think about a church large enough to contain them; and it was the dominican Pope Pius V, who enabled the work to be commenced in 1569, giving large sums to the vast enterprise. Jacopo Barozio da Vignola gave the ground-plan, leaving the execution of it, at his death in 1573, to be carried out by the well-known Perugian architect and sculptor, Giulio Danti, and his fellow-citizen Galeazzo Alessi, who designed the fine cupola and arches. The church was built in the doric style, divided into nave and aisles with numberless side chapels; and certainly they succeeded in giving it a great feeling of space and loftiness, which if less charming than the mysterious gloom of other churches yet seems to belong better to the open and sunlit Umbrian plain, where it rises as a beacon to the people for many miles round. The earthquake in 1832, which laid the villages near Ponte San Giovanni in almost total ruin, shook down the nave and choir of the Angeli creating havoc impossible to describe. By supreme good fortune, shall we say by a miracle, the cupola of Danti and Alessi remained intact above the Portiuncula, which otherwise would have been utterly destroyed. In rebuilding the church, Poletti, the Roman architect employed, deviated slightly from Vignola's original plan, and further he erected a more elaborate and far less elegant facade than the first one, but baroque as it is we may be thankful that the niches for statues of the saints have remained empty. There have been other earthquakes since that of 1832, and when they occurred a pyramid of faggots was carefully piled upon the Portiuncula for protection in case a miracle might not intervene a second time to save it from destruction. The friars took an active part in the work, building the campanile and carving the handsome pulpit and the cupboards in the sacristy. The marble altar was given in 1782 by Mehemet Ali, the ruler of Egypt, and many noble Italian families contributed towards the erection of the chapels containing decadent paintings which it would be useless to describe or to look at. One priceless treasure ornaments the chapel of San Giuseppe (in the left transept), a work of Andrea della Robbia in terra-cotta of blue and white which is like a portion of the sky seen through the cool branches of a vine on a glaring summer's day. Andrea is truly the sculptor of the franciscans, for there are but few of his works where an incident from St. Francis' life is not introduced, and with what feeling they are realised. On one side of the beautiful Madonna who bends to receive her crown from the hands of the Saviour, is represented with great dignity and simplicity St. Francis receiving the Stigmata, on the other St. Jerome and his lion. Beneath is a predella divided into three compartments, the Annunciation, Christ in the manger, and the Adoration of the Magi; and Andrea has framed in the whole with a slightly raised garland of apples, fir-cones and Japanese medlars, which suits the delicacy of the workmanship of the small scenes better than a heavier wreath of fruit and leaves. In the Capella delle Reliquie (in the right transept) is a Crucifixion painted on panel by Giunta Pisano (?) with medallion half figures of the Virgin and St. John; below are kneeling angels by an Umbrian artist, whose work contrasts most strangely with the ancient painting belonging to the dark years before Giotto. In a preceding chapter we lamented the efforts that have been made to decorate the Portiuncula, now alas no longer the shrine among the oak trees; not only in earlier centuries did Umbrian artists cover its rough stones in many parts with frescoes, but the German artist Overbeck has added another superfluous decoration to the facade, severely, but justly criticised by M. Taine, and a German lady has painted the Annunciation on the apse. A very small picture by Sano di Pietro of the Madonna and Child hangs above, a very charming example of the master's work. Very little remains of Pietro Perugino's Crucifixion, and what there is has been well covered over with modern paint. The choir of the monks built outside the Portiuncula having been removed in the eighteenth century half of Perugino's fresco was destroyed, leaving only the groups of people at the foot of the Cross, amongst whom we recognise St. Francis. A naive legend is recalled to us by the stone slab let into the wall close to the side entrance, recording the spot where Pietro Cataneo, the first vicar of the Order during the life of the saint, is buried. He was as holy as the rest of those first enthusiasts, and after death so many miracles were wrought at his tomb that the peace of the friars was disturbed. The case becoming serious they had recourse to St. Francis who, seeing the danger that their lonely abode would become a place of pilgrimage, addressed an admonition to Pietro Cataneo, saying that as he had ever been obedient in life so must he be in death and cease to perform such marvellous miracles. After this when peasants came to pray for some favour at his tomb no answer was vouchsafed, so that gradually their faith in his intercession ceased and peace again reigned at the Portiuncula. The extent of the present church is so immense that the site of all the scattered huts of the brethren and the little orchard so carefully tended by the saint, are contained within its walls. Over what was the infirmary where St. Francis died St. Bonaventure built a chapel which Lo Spagna decorated with portraits (?) of the first franciscans, now seen very dimly like shadows on its walls by the flickering light of the tapers. Out of the half gloom stands strongly outlined in a niche above the altar, a beautiful terra-cotta statue of St. Francis by Andrea della Robbia. The hood is thrown back, the head slightly raised, and in the sad but calm expression of the exquisitely modelled face Andrea conveys a truer feeling of the suffering Poverello than all the so-called portraits. One of these, said to be painted on the lid of the saint's coffin by Giunta Pisano, hangs outside the chapel, but it looks more like a bad copy of Cimabue's St. Francis in the Lower Church, and we would fain leave with the remembrance unspoilt of Andrea's fine conception. Passing through the sacristy containing a head of Christ by an unknown follower of Perugino and a small Guido Reni (?), we reach the chapel of St. Charles Borromeo where an ancient and much restored portrait of St. Francis, said to be painted on part of his bed, hangs above the altar; it is in every way less interesting than the one in the sacristy of the Lower Church. From here an open colonnade leads past a little plot of ground, which in the days of the Little Brethren was the orchard of the convent. One day as the saint left his cell he stopped a moment to speak with the friar who attended to the land, "begging him not to cultivate only vegetables, but to leave a little portion for those plants which in due time would bring forth brother flowers, for the love of Him who is called 'flower of the field and lily of the valley.'" Accordingly a "fair little garden" was made, and often while St. Francis caressingly touched the flowers, his spirit seemed to those who watched him to be no longer upon earth but to have already reached its home. On the other side, carefully preserved within wire netting, is the famous Garden of Roses, and standing in the midst, like ruins of some temple, are the four pillars which in olden times supported a roof above the Portiuncula. In the days when St. Francis had his hut close by, this cultivated garden was only a wilderness of brambles in the forest, and the legend tells how the saint being assailed by terrible temptation as he knelt at prayer through the watches of the night, ran out into the snow and rolled naked among the brambles and thorns to quiet the fierce battle within his soul. The moonlight suddenly broke through the clouds shining upon clusters of white and red roses, their leaves stained with the saint's blood which had fallen upon the brambles and produced these thornless flowers, while celestial spirits filled the air with hymns of praise. Throwing a silken garment over him and flooding his pathway with heavenly radiance, the angel led him to the Portiuncula where the Madonna and Child appeared to him in a vision. The legend has been often illustrated, Overbeck's fresco on the facade of the chapel records it yet again where St. Francis is represented as offering to the Virgin the roses he had gathered.   [Illustration: THE GARDEN OF THE ROSES AT STA. MARIA DEGLI ANGELI] A few steps beyond the Garden of the Roses lies the Chapel of the Roses built by St. Bonaventure over the hut of St. Francis, which was afterwards enlarged by St. Bernardine. The place where he spent his few moments of repose and so many hours of prayer, can be seen through the grating on a level with the chapel floor, and resembles more the lair of a wild animal than an ordinary abode of man; but such places were dear to him, and he rejoiced in having the open forest outside his cell into which he wandered at all times of the day and night, and where the brethren, ever curious to watch their beloved and holy master, could see him on moonlight nights holding sweet converse with heavenly spirits. The choir of the chapel is frescoed by Lo Spagna who repeated again the figures of the first franciscans, adding those of St. Bonaventure, St. Bernardine of Siena, St. Louis of Toulouse, and St. Anthony of Padua on the left wall, and St. Clare and St. Elisabeth of Hungary on the right wall. The fresco on the ceiling is said to be by Pinturricchio. The paintings in the nave by Tiberio d'Assisi are faintly coloured and a poor example of Umbrian art; only the last scene is interesting, where St. Francis publishes the indulgence in the presence of the seven bishops, as it gives an accurate representation of the Portiuncula in the fifteenth century with Niccolo da Foligno's fresco still upon the facade. It tells the legend of the "Perdono" which even to the present day plays so important a part in the religious life of Assisi, bringing crowds every year to the Portiuncula for whom the Angeli was finally built. Disentangling the story from the legend by no means diminishes its charm, while we get a very striking historical scene showing us St. Francis in yet another light. Once when the saint was praying at the Portiuncula, Christ and his Mother appeared to him to ask what favour he desired, for it would be granted by reason of his great faith. The salvation of souls being ever the burden of his prayers he begged for a plenary indulgence, to be earned by all who should enter the Portiuncula on a special day. "What thou askest, O Francis," replied Christ, "is very great; but thou art worthy of still greater favours. I grant thy prayer; but go and find my Vicar, the Sovereign Pontiff Honorius III, at Perugia, and ask him in my name for this indulgence." Early next morning St. Francis, accompanied by Peter Cataneo and Angelo da Rieti, started along the road to Perugia where Innocent III, had but lately died and the pious Honorius been immediately elected as his successor. It was in the early summer of 1216 that the little band of friars were led into the presence of the Pope in the old Canonica, but not for the first time did St. Francis find himself in the presence of Rome's sovereign, gaining his cause now as before through the great love that made his words and actions seem inspired. At first the Pope murmured at the immensity of the favour asked but finally, his heart being touched by the fervour of the saint, he said: "For how many years do you desire this indulgence. Perchance for one or two, or will you that I grant it to you for seven?" The Pope had still to learn the depths of love in the saint's heart who stood before him pleading so earnestly for the souls of men, not during his life only, but during centuries to come. "O Messer il Papa," cried St. Francis in accents almost of despair, "why speakest thou of years and of time? I ask thee not for years, but I ask thee for souls." "It is not the custom of the Roman Curia," answered the Pope, "to grant such an indulgence." "Your Holiness," said the saint, "it is not I who ask for it, but He who has sent me, the Lord Jesus Christ." The Pope conquered by these words and driven by a sudden impulse said, "We accord thee the indulgence." The Cardinals who had remained silent now began to murmur and reminded the Pope, like cautious guardians of the Papal interests, that this plenary indulgence would greatly interfere with those granted for pilgrimages to the Holy Land, and for visiting the tombs of the Blessed Apostles. "We have given and granted it to him," answered Honorius. "What has been done we cannot undo, but we will modify it so that the indulgence will be but for one full day." And motioning the saint to approach he said: "From henceforth we grant that whoso comes to and enters this church, being sincerely repentant and having received absolution, shall be absolved from all punishment and all faults, and we will that this indulgence be valid every year in perpetuity, but for one day only from the first vesper of the one day until the first vesper of the next." Hardly had the Pope ceased speaking when St. Francis radiant with joy turned to depart. "_O semplicione quo vadis?_ O simple child without guile, whither goest thou? Whither goest thou without the document ratifying so great a favour?" quoth the Pope. "If this indulgence," answered the saint, "is the work of God, I have no need of any document, let the chart be the Blessed Virgin Mary, the notary Christ and my witnesses the angels." Round this historical interview the legend makers wove the pretty story of the roses which flowered in mid-winter among the snow, relating that after the concession of the indulgence in the summer of 1216 occurred this rose miracle, and Christ in a vision bade the saint go to Rome in order that the day might be fixed for the gaining of the indulgence, and to convince Honorius of the truth of his revelation he was to carry some of the roses with him. But having already obtained the Pope's sanction at Perugia, it was unlikely that the saint would wait another year before proclaiming the glad tidings to all the country-side, and we may be sure that no sooner had he returned to the Portiuncula from Perugia than he made speedy preparations for the arrival of a great concourse of people. On the afternoon of the first of August the plain about the Portiuncula was filled with pilgrims from far and near, and many friars hastened from distant parts to listen to their master's wonderful message. He mounted the wooden pulpit which had been erected beneath an oak tree close to the chapel, followed by the seven Umbrian bishops who were to ratify his proclamation of the indulgence. St. Francis discoursed most eloquently to the assembled multitude and then in the fullness of his joy cried out to them, "I desire to send you all to Paradise," and announced the great favour he had obtained for them from the Holy Pontiff. When the bishops heard him proclaim the indulgence as "perpetual" they murmured among themselves, and finally exclaimed that he had misunderstood the words of the Pope, and that they intended to do only what was right and ratify the indulgence for ten years. Full of righteous feeling the bishop of Assisi stepped forward to correct the error into which the saint had fallen, but to the astonishment of his companions he declared the indulgence to have been granted for all time. Then the others murmured still more, saying he had done this because he was an Assisan and wished to bring great honour to his diocese; so the bishop of Perugia, determining to set the mistake right, began to speak, but he found himself forced by a supernatural power to proclaim the indulgence in the very words of St. Francis. The same thing happened to the other five bishops, and St. Francis then saw his dearest wishes realised. Daily the fame of the Portiuncula increased, and the year 1219 witnessed another immense gathering of people, but this time it was the meeting of the five thousand franciscan friars who came from distant parts to attend the Easter Chapter held by St. Francis in the plain. One of the most vivid and interesting chapters (the xiii) in the _Fioretti_, pictures for us "the camp and army of the knights of God," all busily employed in holy converse about the affairs of the Order. It relates how "in that camp were shelters, roofed with lattice and mat, arranged in separate groups according to the diverse provinces whence came the friars; therefore was this Chapter called the Chapter of the Lattices or of the Mats; their bed was the bare earth, though some had a little straw, their pillows were stones or billets of wood. For which reason the devotion of those who heard or saw them was so great, and so great was the fame of their sanctity, that from the court of the Pope who was then at Perugia, and from other towns in the vale of Spoleto, came many counts, barons and knights, and other men of gentle birth, and much people, and cardinals and bishops and abbots with many other clerics, to see so holy and great a congregation and so humble, the like had never yet been in the world of so many saintly men assembled together: and principally they came to see the head and most holy father of all these holy men...."[113]   [Illustration: THE FONTE MARCELLA BY GALEAZZO ALESSI] THE PARDON OF ST. FRANCIS OR "IL PERDONO D'ASSISI." We cannot study the story of any Umbrian town without experiencing the feeling that it belongs to the past and was built in an age, which can only dimly be realised in the pages of old chronicles, by a people who were ever hurrying to battle, bent on glory and conquest for their cities. The character of the inhabitants has changed, and though the wonderful little cities they built upon the hills remain much as in mediæval times, they have a peaceful and quiet loveliness of their own which could not have existed in those days of fevered struggle and unrest. The word Assisi brings up, even to those who have seen the town but for a day, a host of sunlit memories; of way-side shrines with fading frescoes, whence Umbrian Madonnas smile down upon the worshippers; of ravines and forest trees; of vineyards where the peasants greeted you; of convent and Basilica glowing golden and crimson in the sudden changes from afternoon to sun-down, as they lie bathed in the last rays of light upon the hill above the darkness of the valley. All these things and many more pass through our minds, but the picture would be incomplete if we fail to recall two days in August when the undying power of St. Francis once more reaches across the centuries, arousing the people to a sudden return to mediæval times of expiation, prayer and strong belief in the power of a great saint's intercession.   [Illustration: AN ASSISAN GARDEN IN VIA GARIBALDI] The very mention of a feast savours in Italy of delightful things, of songs, of crowds of happy-looking people bent on the pleasures of a holiday as well as on praying for the good of their souls, and as a feast at Assisi sounded fairer than any other, we determined to become for the moment pilgrims and seek with them for the "Pardon of St. Francis." So as the days drew near to August we stood once more on the terrace of the Hotel Subasio, and as we felt the cool air of the early morning coming from the mountains, long days of interminable heat at Florence were forgotten, and Assisi, with her gardens full of sweet-scented summer flowers, her streets resounding only with the plash of the water of many fountains, seemed to us indeed to possess more beauty, variety and brilliancy of colour than we had realised before. Never had the nights been so still as in that late July, when the peasants had gathered in their harvest and were waiting for the time of vintage; only the shrill notes of the crickets answered each other occasionally along the valley, and the frogs croaked on the margin of the rills below the town. But soon this calmness ceased as the country roused itself for the annual spell of madness; there were voices in the vineyards during the night, bonfires in the plains, and a general tremor of excitement filled men and animals, setting the thin Assisan cocks crowing at unearthly hours in the morning. A night of sounds and wakefulness preceded a day when the people of all the cities and villages near appeared to have arrived in Assisi, not for the feast--for it was only the 29th of July--but for the fair. We followed them to the Piazza della Minerva, no longer the quiet place of former visits when only a few citizens sat sipping their cups of coffee, or talked together as they walked leisurely up and down. Temples, buildings and frescoes were forgotten as we watched the peasants gather round the booths to purchase articles of apparel and household wares, bargaining in shrill voices to the delight of purchaser, seller and onlooker. All the people of the country seemed to be here, and the Umbrian sellers had decked their stalls with a dazzling mass of coloured stuffs as attractive to us as to the Umbrian women. We bought large kerchiefs with red roses on a yellow ground to wear over our heads at the feast, and enormous hats with flapping brims, which the peasants, always interested in a neighbour's purchase, helped us to choose, saying, "take this one for no rain will come through it, and you need never use an umbrella." So a sun-bonnet was bought for rain and we went away convinced that no more delightful shopping could be done than during a fair day at Assisi, when a passing farmer and his family were ready to help us to choose the goods and to bargain, and moreover comforted us in the end by the assurance that in their opinion the money had been well spent. Later we strolled up to the Piazza Nuova, where an immense fair of oxen was being held, transforming another sleepy corner of the town into a busy, bustling thoroughfare. They were quiet beasts enough and we walked in among them stroking their soft noses as we watched the groups of excited peasants performing the various rites of selling and buying. When an ox was sold the broker joined the hands of vendor and purchaser by dint of much pulling, and then shook them up and down, shouting all the while, until our joints ached at the sight of this energetic signing of a treaty. The bargaining causes enormous amusement, the discussion on either side bringing a current of eager talk through the crowd; only the oxen were thoroughly weary of the whole affair as they gazed pensively at their owners. They were large milk-white creatures, the whole place was one white shimmering mass seen against the old walls of the town and the blocks of Roman masonry, calling up idle fancies of Clitumnus down in the valley just in sight, whose fields had given pasture to the oxen of the gods. The whole of that day Assisi was full of Umbrian men and women greatly concerned in buying and selling; but on the next the streets began to fill with people from distant parts of Italy, whose only thought was for St. Francis. At a very early hour of the 30th we were roused by the sound of many voices in the distance; going out on the terrace we saw a crowd of pilgrims coming across the plain, and others moving with slow steps up the hill. When near the Porta S. Francesco they knelt outside in the road and sang their hymn of praise before entering the Seraphic City. From dawn to evening a steady stream of pilgrims passed into the town, and the chanting, rising and falling like a fitful summer breeze, was the only sound to be heard throughout the day. Such different groups of people knelt together in the church, with nothing in common but the love for the franciscan saint whose name was for ever on their lips. They came from distant corners of Southern Italy generally in carts drawn by mules or oxen, for few could afford the luxury of coming by train. The Neapolitan women and those from the Abruzzi wore spotlessly white head-kerchiefs which fell round their shoulders like a nun's coif, a white blouse and generally a brilliant red or yellow skirt gathered thickly round the hips; the men were even more picturesque, with their waistcoats and knickerbockers of scarlet cloth, their white shirt sleeves showing, and their stockings bound round with leathern thongs. Some of the women from the Basilicata wore wonderful necklaces of old workmanship, and gold embroidered bands laid across their linen blouses, while long pins with huge knobs of beaten silver fastened their headgear of black and white cloth. There were two women from the mountains of the Basilicata who wore thick cloth turbans, and blue braid plaited in and out of their hair at one side, giving them a coquettish air; they suffered beneath the burden of their thick stuff dresses made with straight short jackets and skirts and big loose sleeves. Their felt boots were ill-fitted for Umbrian roads, and altogether they were attired for a winter climate and not for a burning August day in mid Italy. "Ah, it is cool among our mountains," they said with a sigh gazing wearily down at the plain which sent up hot vapours to mingle with the dust. Many of them had been three weeks on their journey and they look upon it as a great holiday, an event in their lives which cannot be often repeated for they are poor and depend for their livelihood upon the produce of their fields; but even the poorest brings enough to have a mass said at the Portiuncula and to drop some coppers on the altar steps. A few wandered through the Upper Church looking at Giotto's frescoes, but unable to read the story for themselves turned to us for an explanation when we happened to be there. They patted our faces, saying _carina_ by way of thanks, but realised little or nothing about the saint they had come so far to honour, only being certain that his intercession was all powerful. Several peasants sat in turn upon the beautiful Papal throne in the choir, both as a cure and as a preventive against possible ailments, and thinking there was some legend as to its miraculous qualities we asked them to tell us about it. They looked up surprised and very simply said, "It stands in the church of San Francesco," this was enough in their eyes to explain all miracles and wonders. A favourite occupation was kneeling by the entrance door of the Lower Church and listening for mysterious sounds which are said to come from the small column fixed in the ground. "What are you doing," we asked, cruelly disturbing the devotion of an old man in our desire for information. "I am listening to the voice of St. Francis," he answered, telling us that we might hear it too, but as he was in no hurry to cede his place to others we had no chance of verifying his strange assertion. The priests had a double function to perform, for while hearing confessions they held a long rod in their hands with which they tapped the heads of the peasants passing down the church; it was a blessing, which by the ignorant might be mistaken for some mysterious kind of fishing in invisible waters. At first the northern mind was surprised at the familiar way the pilgrims used the churches as their home, many being too poor to afford a lodging in the town. Especially at the Angeli we saw the strange uses side altars were put to; a family, having heard several masses and duly performed all their spiritual duties, would settle themselves comfortably on the broad steps of an altar, unfasten their bundles and proceed to breakfast off large hunches of bread and a mug of water; what remained of the water was employed in washing their feet. One man who had tramped for many days along dusty roads and wished to change his clothes, conceived the novel idea of retiring into a confessional box for the purpose. His wife handed him in the clean things and presently he drew aside the curtain, and emerged in spotless festive apparel with his travelling suit tied up in a large red handkerchief.