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. |
|
댓글 없음:
댓글 쓰기