The ceremony was simple, wherein lies the charm of all
things franciscan. The service over and the last blessing given, St.
Francis led Clare towards the altar and with his own hands cut off her
long fair hair and unclasped the jewels from her neck. But a few
minutes more and a daughter of the proud house of Scifi stood clothed in
the brown habit of the order, the black veil of religion falling about
her shoulders, lovelier far in this nun-like severity than she had
been when decked out in all her former luxury of silken gowns and
precious gems.
It was arranged that Clare was to go afterwards to the
benedictine nuns of San Paolo near Bastia, about an hour's walk further on in
the plain. So when the final vows had been taken, St. Francis took her
by the hand and they passed out of the chapel together just as dawn
was breaking, while the brethren returned to their cells gazing half
sadly as they passed, at the coils of golden hair and the little heap
of jewels which still lay upon the altar cloth.
* *
* * *
Those early days at the Portiuncula were among the most
important of Francis' life; dreams which had come to him while he spent long
hours in the caves and woods near Assisi were to be fully realised, and
the work he felt inspired to perform was to be carried out in the
busy villages and cities of Italy and even further afield. All this was
now very clear to Francis, and more than ever anxious to keep
the simplicity of his order untouched, he taught his followers, in
words which fell so gently yet so earnestly from his lips, that they were
to toil without ceasing, and restlessly and without pause to wander
from castle to castle, from city to city, in search of those who
needed help. It may therefore at first seem strange that the "Penitents
of Assisi" owning nothing but the peace within their hearts, desiring
no better place for prayer than a cavern in some mountain gorge,
should establish themselves near a chapel which, if not nominally their
own, was practically regarded as the property of the Friars Minor. But
in this again we feel the wisdom and tenderness of the saint for
his little community. With all the fervour and fire of enthusiasm
which impelled him like a living force to seek his end, he well knew
that without some place in which to meet together and rest awhile,
his followers, who however much imbued with his ardent spirit were
but mortal men, would very likely fall away from the high ideal he had
set before them.
Thus the Portiuncula became to the brethren as a
nest, where like tired birds that long had been upon the wing, they could
return after much wandering to peaceful thoughts, to prayer and quiet
labour.
[Illustration: THE PORTIUNCULA IN THE TIME OF ST. FRANCIS (FROM
THE "COLLIS PARADISI").]
It is not very difficult, with the print
from the "Collis Paradisi"[57] before us, and the remembrance of the large
oaks which still mark the ancient Roman roads leading from Assisi to
the plain, to call up the picture of the strange franciscan
hamlet clustering round a pent-roofed chapel, and with only trees for
a convent wall. What a life of peace in the mud huts! what a life
of turmoil and angry strife raging in the city just in sight!
The
spirit of those days, when monachism meant all that was purely ideal and
beautiful, seems to live again. Then, day and night, each brother strove to
fit himself for the work he had in view, drawing into his soul the peace and
love he learned from nature herself as the forest leaves rustled above his
cell or the nightingales accompanied the midnight office with their song. And
when his turn came to take up the pilgrim's staff and follow the lead of
Francis, he went with cheerfulness to bring to the people some of that
child-like joy and lightness of heart which marked the Little Brethren
through whatever land they wandered as the disciples of St.
Francis.
Let us for a moment leave the Umbrian valley for the country
near Oxford, where on a bitter Christmas Day, two friars were
journeying upon their first mission to England.
"Going into a
neighbouring wood they picked their way along a rugged path over the frozen
mud and hard snow, whilst blood stained the track of their naked feet without
their perceiving it. The younger friar said to the elder: 'Father, shall I
sing and lighten our journey?' and on receiving permission he thundered forth
a Salve Regina misericordiæ.... Now, when the hymn was concluded ... he who
had been the consoler said, with a kind of self congratulation to
his companion: 'Brother, was not that antiphonal well sung?'"
In this
simple story, told us in the chronicle of Lanercost, how true rings the
franciscan note struck by Francis in those early days at the Portiuncula. He
was for ever telling the brethren not to show sorrowful faces to one another,
saying, as recorded by Brother Leo: "Let this sadness remain between God and
thyself, and pray to Him that of His mercy He may forgive thee, and restore
to thy soul His healthy joyance whereof He deprived thee as a punishment for
thy sins."
It is all so long ago, and yet in reading those ancient
chronicles the big church of the Angeli is for a time forgotten, and only the
vision of the Portiuncula and the mud huts, with the brethren ever to and
fro upon the road, remains with us as a strange picture in our
modern hurried life.
But although the brethren lived so quietly in
this retreat of still repose, St. Francis, ever watching over the welfare of
his flock, was careful that prayer and meditation should never be an excuse
for idleness, which of all vices he most abhorred. Therefore he
encouraged each friar who in the world had followed some trade, to continue
it here; so we hear of Beato Egidio, on his return from one of his
long journeys, seated at the door of his hut busily employed in making
rush baskets, while Brother Juniper, in those rare moments when he was
out of mischief, would pass his time in mending sandals with an awl
he kept up his sleeve for the purpose. Besides these
individual occupations there was much to attend to even in such humble
dwellings as those round the Portiuncula. Sometimes there were sick friars
to nurse, or vegetables had to be planted in the orchard and provisions to
be obtained, while the office of doorkeeper, as "Angels" came perpetually to
ask pertinent questions of the brethren, became quite a laborious task. When
it fell to Brother Masseo to answer the door he had little peace. Upon one
occasion he went in haste to see who was making such a noise and found a
"fair youth clothed as though for a journey," so he spoke somewhat roughly,
and the youth enquired how knocking should be done. "Give three knocks,"
quoth Brother Masseo, little dreaming he was instructing an angel in the art
of knocking, "with a brief space between each knock, then wait until the
brother has time to say a paternoster and to come unto thee; and if at the
end of that time he does not come knock once again."
Things went
smoothly enough when left to the management of such friars as Leo, Masseo or
Rufino, but when one day the office of cook fell to Juniper, that dear jester
of the brotherhood, we get a humorous picture of what his companions
sometimes had to endure, and of the kindness with which they pardoned all
shortcomings. The brethren had gone out, and Juniper being left alone devised
an excellent plan whereby the convent might be supplied with food for a
fortnight, and thus the cook have more time for prayer. "With all diligence,"
it is related in the _Fioretti_, "he went into the village and begged
for several large cooking-pots, obtained fresh meat and bacon, fowls,
eggs and herbs, also he begged a quantity of firewood, and placed all
these upon the fire, to wit, the fowls with their feathers on, the eggs
in their shells, and the rest in like fashion." When the brethren
came home, one that was well acquainted with the simplicity of
Brother Juniper went into the kitchen, and seeing so many and such large
pots on a great fire, sat down amazed without saying a word, and
watched with what anxious care Brother Juniper did this cooking. Because
of the fierceness of the fire he could not well get near to skim the pots,
so he took a plank and tied it with a rope tight to his body and sprang from
one pot to the other, so that it was a joy to see him. Contemplating all with
great delight, this brother went forth from the kitchen and finding the other
brothers, said: "In sooth I tell you, Brother Juniper is making a marriage
feast."
Then in hurried Juniper, all red with his exertions and the heat
of the fire, explaining the excellent plan he had devised; and as he
set his mess upon the table he praised it, saying: "Now these fowls
are nourishing to the brain, this stew will refresh the body, it is
so good"; but the stew remained untasted, for, says the _Fioretti_, "there
is no pig in the land of Rome so famished that he would eat of it."
At
the end of any foolish adventure Brother Juniper would always ask pardon with
such humility that he edified his companions and all the people he came in
contact with, instead of annoying them with his childish pranks. His goodness
was manifest, and St. Francis was often heard to say to those who wished to
reprove him after one of his wildest frolics, "would that I had a whole
forest of these junipers."
Between the men who lived at the Portiuncula
with the saint, and those who in later times ruled large convents in the
cities, the contrast is so great that we would wish to draw still further
from these inexhaustible chronicles which reveal so charmingly the life of
these Umbrian friars. But to tell of all the events connected with
the Portiuncula would mean recounting the history of the whole
franciscan brotherhood, and we must now pass over many years to that saddest
year of all, when St. Francis was brought to die in the place he had
so carefully tended.
[Illustration: ASSISI FROM THE
PLAIN]
Knowing that he had but a few more weeks of life, he begged
the brethren to find some means to carry him away from the Bishop's
Palace at Assisi where he had been staying some time. "Verily," he told
them pathetically, "because of my very infirmity I cannot go afoot";
so they carried him in their arms down the hill to the plain, and
when they came to the hospital of San Salvatore dei Crociferi they laid
him gently down upon the ground with his face towards Assisi, because
he desired to bless the town for the last time before he died.
The
blind saint, lifting his hand in blessing, pronounced these words dear to the
hearts of the Assisans to this day: "Blessed be thou of the Lord, O city,
faithful to God, because through thee many souls shall be saved. The servants
of the Most High shall dwell in great numbers within thy walls, and many of
thy sons shall be chosen for the realms of heaven."
Then they carried
him to the hut nearest the Portiuncula which was the infirmary, and here his
last days were passed.[58] Although he suffered acutely, they were days of
marvellous peace and joy. It is beautiful to read how, with his usual
tenderness, he thought of the brethren he was leaving to carry on the work
without him, encouraging them all as they stood weeping round his bed. Like
Isaac of old, the Umbrian patriarch blessed his first born, Bernard of
Quintavalle, saying: "Come my little son that my soul may bless thee before I
die," while he enjoined upon all to love and honour Bernard, who had
been the first to listen to his words now so many years ago. With all
his sons near him St. Francis dictated his will, wherein he describes
the way of life they were to lead, and which, coming from him at
this solemn moment, must always remain as a precious message from
the saint, in many ways of more importance than the Rule approved in
his life-time by Pope Honorius. When this was done he commended once
again to their special care the chapel of the Portiuncula. "I will," he
said to them, "that for all times it be the mirror and good example of
all religion, and as it were a lamp ever burning and resplendent
before the throne of God and before the Blessed Virgin."
The farewells
to those of his immediate circle had been made and a letter written to St.
Clare, and now he wished to bid "the most noble Roman matron, Madonna Giacoma
dei Settesoli," one of his most devoted followers, to come and take leave of
him at Assisi. The letter had only just been written when knocking at the
door and the sound of horses trampling was heard outside, and the brethren
going out to discover the cause of such unwonted noise found that Madonna
Giacoma, accompanied by her sons, two Roman senators, had been inspired to
come and visit the dying saint.
The brethren, somewhat averse to allow
a woman, even one so renowned for holiness as Madonna Giacoma, to enter their
sacred precincts, called to St. Francis in their doubt: "Father, what shall
be done? Shall we let her enter and come unto thee?" And the Blessed
Francis said: "The regulation is to be set aside in respect to this lady
whose great faith and devotion hath brought her hither from such
far-off parts." So Madonna Giacoma came into the presence of the
Blessed Francis weeping bitterly, and she brought with her the
shroud-cloth, incense, and a great quantity of wax for the candles which were
to burn before his body after death. She had even thought of some
cakes made of almonds and sugar, known in Rome by the name of
_mostaccioli_, which she had often made for him when he visited her. But the
saint was fast failing, and could eat but little of the cakes.
As the
end came nearer his thoughts were drawn away from earth, and true to the last
to his Lady Poverty, he caused himself to be laid naked on the ground as a
token of his complete renouncement of the world. His face radiant with
happiness, he kept asking his companions to recite the Canticle of the Sun,
often joining in it himself or breaking forth into his favourite psalm _Voce
mea ad Dominum Clamavi_.
With words of praise and gladness the Blessed
Francis of Assisi, the spouse of Poverty, died in a mud hut close to the
shrine he loved, on the 3rd of October of 1226 in the forty-fifth year of his
age.
His soul was seen to ascend to heaven under the semblance of a
star, but brilliant as the sun, upon clouds as white as snow. It was
sunset, the hour when in Umbria after the stillness of a warm autumn day
an unusual tremor passes through the land and all things in the valley and
upon the hill-sides are stirred by it, when a flight of larks circled above
the roof of the hut where the saint lay at rest. And these birds of light and
gladness "seemed by their sweet singing to be in company with Francis
praising the Lord God."
FOOTNOTES:
[51] It has sometimes happened
that visitors, who have not read their Murray with sufficient care, thinking
"Le Carceri" are prisons where convicts are kept, leave Assisi without
visiting this charming spot. "Carceri" certainly now means "prisons," but the
original meaning of the word in old Italian is a place surrounded by a fence
and often remote from human habitation.
[52] It is perhaps an insult
to the Tescio to leave the traveller in Umbria under the impression that this
mountain torrent is always dry. Certainly that is its usual condition, but we
have seen it during the storms that break upon the land in August and
September overflow its banks and inundate the country on either side; but
with this wealth of water its beauty goes.
[53] The large modern
church of Rivo-Torto, on the road from Sta. Maria degli Angeli to Spello,
built to enclose the huts that St. Francis and his companions are supposed to
have lived in while tending the lepers, has been proved without doubt by M.
Paul Sabatier to have no connection whatever with the Saint. In these few
pages we have followed the information given in a pamphlet which is to be
found in the Italian translation of his _Vie de S. Francois d'Assise_. It
is impossible here to enter into all the arguments relating to
this disputed point, but I think the authority of the best, and by far
the most vivid of the biographers of St. Francis can be trusted
without further comment, and that we may safely believe the hut of
St. Francis, known as Rivo-Torto, lay close to the present chapels of
San Rufino d'Arce and Sta. Maria Maddalena. See Appendix for
information as to their exact position in the plain and the nearest road to
them. _Disertazione sul primo luogo abitato dai Frati Minori su Rivo-Torto
e nell'Ospedale dei Lebbrosi di Assisi._ di Paul Sabatier (Roma,
Ermanno Loescher and Co., 1896).
[54] See _The Transactions of the
Royal Irish Academy_, vol. xxvii. Nov. 1882.
[55] _Speculum
Perfectionis_, cap. lv., edited by Paul Sabatier.
[56] This custom ceased
in the fifteenth century; but in the year 1899, through the piety of the Rev.
Father Bernardine Ibald, it was revived. Once again the franciscans take a
small basket of fish to the abbot and his monks who now live at S. Pietro in
Assisi, where the benedictines went when their mountain retreat was destroyed
by order of the Assisan despot, Broglia di Trino.
[57] This
illustration is from a print to be seen in the somewhat rare edition of the
_Collis Paradisi Amoenitas, seu Sacri Conventus Assisiensis Historiæ_,
published in 1704 at Montefalco by Padre Angeli, and it may even have been
taken from an earlier drawing. In it there is the true feeling of a
franciscan convent, such as the saint hoped would continue for all time, and
though there are some points which are incorrect (the Church of Sta. Chiara,
though curiously enough not the convent, is represented, which was built
several years later than San Francesco), we get a clear idea of both Assisi
and its immediate neighbourhood. All the ancient gates of the town can be
made out, the Roman road from Porta Mojano to San Rufino d'Arce, a
faint indication of the path to the Carceri, and also the old road
from Assisi to the plain out of the gate of S. Giacomo, passing not
very far from the Ponte S. Vittorino. The wall round the Portiuncula
and the huts did not exist in the time of St. Francis, which,
together with the wooden gate, may have been added by Brother Elias.
The largest hut a little to the right of the chapel was the
infirmary where St. Francis died (now called the Chapel of St. Francis), and
the one behind it was his cell (now known as the Chapel of the Roses,
see chapter xi. for its story), whence he could easily pass out
through the woods to San Rufino d'Arce hard by.
[58] For fuller
account see _The Mirror of Perfection_, translated by Sebastian Evans, caps.
107, 108, 112, and _The Little Flowers of St. Francis_, translated by J. W.
Arnold (Temple Classics), chap. vi.
CHAPTER IV
_The
building of the Basilica and Convent of San Francesco. The Story of Brother
Elias_
"O brother mine, O beautiful brother, O brother of love, build
me a castle which shall have neither stone nor iron. O beautiful
brother, build me a city which shall have neither wood nor stone."--BEATO
EGIDIO.
One of the strangest characteristics of mediæval Italy was
the rivalry between different towns to gain possession of the bodies of
holy people. They did not even wait for the bull of canonisation to
arrive from Rome, but often of their own accord placed the favoured being
in the Calendar of Saints, and papal decrees merely ratified the choice of
popular devotion. We have an example of this with the Perugians. Ever on the
alert to increase the glory of their city, they hovered near the road St.
Francis was to follow during his last illness when borne from Cortona to
Assisi, meaning to carry him off by force so that he might die in
Perugia.[59] Never at a loss for a way out of any difficulty Elias hastily
changed the itinerary for the journey, and instead of the short way by lake
Thrasymene he took the much longer and more difficult road by Gualdo and
Nocera, far back in the mountains to the north of Assisi. He warned the
Assisans of the peril run by the little company of friars with their sick
father, and soldiers were immediately sent to escort them safely to the
Bishop's Palace where St. Francis stayed until carried to the Portiuncula
when he knew that he was dying.
They were sad days at Assisi when St.
Francis was borne through the city blind and ill; and as he stretched out his
hands to bless the people they bowed their heads and wept at the sight of so
much suffering. Now that the end had come and they knew he lay safely
in the little shrine of the Portiuncula, their mourning was changed
into rejoicing, and as though they were preparing for a great
festival, strange sounds of busy talk, of laughter and of singing were heard
in the streets. Had a stranger found himself at Assisi that Sunday morning
he might well have asked: "What victory have you gained to merit all this
show of gladness, or what emperor are you going forth to greet?" And the
answer would have been: "Francis, our saint, the son of Bernardone, returned
to us when he was nigh to death, and now that he is dead we possess his body
which will bring great honour and fame to our city by reason of the many
miracles to be wrought at his tomb."
The sun had not yet risen when
the Assisans left their houses and thronged down the hill to the Portiuncula
to bring the precious burden to rest within the more certain refuge of their
walled town. "Blessed and praised be the Lord our God who has entrusted to
us, though unworthy, so great a gift. Praise and glory to the ineffable
Trinity," they sang as they hurried along in the cold dawn. Trumpeters blew
loud and discordant notes, nearly drowning the voices of the priests
who vainly in the din tried to intone the canticles and psalms. The
nobles came from their castles with lighted torches to join the
procession, the peasants from the hills brought sprigs of olive, and those
from the forests stripped the oaks of their finest branches which
they waved above their heads, while children strewed the ground
with flowers.
Amidst all this stirring show of joy a kindly thought
had been taken of St. Clare and her nuns, so that when the body of St.
Francis had been laid in a coffin, and the long line of friars, priests
and townsmen turned to climb the hill, they took a path skirting
just below the town, through the vineyards and olive groves, to the
convent of San Damiano. The sound of chanting must have warned the watchers
of their approach long before they came in sight. An artist has
pictured the nuns like a flock of timid sheep in his fresco, trooping out of
an exquisitely marbled chapel, with St. Clare endeavouring to suppress her
grief as she bends over the dead Francis, while the sisters press close
behind her. This is how it ought to have been; but, alas, only an iron
lattice, through which the nuns were wont to receive the Holy Communion, was
opened for them, and the friars lifting the body of St. Francis from the
coffin, held it in their arms at the opening as one by one the nuns came to
kiss the pierced hands. "Madonna Chiara's" tears fell fast as she gazed on
him who had brought such joy into her cloistered solitude. "Oh father,
father," she murmured, "what are we to do now that thou hast abandoned us
unhappy ones? With thee departs all consolation, for buried here away from
the world there is none to console us." Restraining the lamentations which
filled her heart she passed like a shadow out of sight to her cell, and when
all the sisters had bidden farewell to St. Francis, the small window
was closed "never again to open upon so sad a scene."
The people, who
until now had wept bitterly, began to sing again as the procession went on
its way up the hill towards the Porta Mojano. The trumpets sounded louder
than ever, and "with jubilation and great exultation" the sacred body was
brought to the church of San Giorgio, where it was carefully laid in a marble
urn covered with an iron grating, and guarded day and night from the prying
eyes of the Perugians. If Francis had worked miracles during his life,
those chronicled at his tomb are even more marvellous; in recounting
some which read like fairy tales, a biographer recounts with pride
that, "even from heaven, the Saint showed his courtesy to
all."
Devotion to St. Francis was not confined to Umbria or even to
Italy, for we read how his fame spread throughout France, and how the
King and Queen with all the barons of the land, came to Paris to kiss
one of his relics. "People journeyed from the east and from the
west," enthusiastically exclaims Celano with a total disregard of
detail, "they came from the north and from the south, even the learned and
the lettered who abounded in Paris at that time."
But while France was
being stirred by the news of perpetual miracles and prodigies wrought through
the intercession of the saint, and Assisi in consequence was fast growing
into a place of great importance in the world, Pope Gregory IX, who had been
lately elected upon the death of Honorius III, spent many hours in the
Cannonica at Perugia wrestling with his doubts concerning the truth of the
greatest miracle of all, the miracle of the Stigmata. While in this state
of uncertainty and perplexity St. Francis, the _Fioretti_
relates, appeared to him one night, and showed him the five wounds inflicted
by the Seraph upon his hands, feet and side. The vision, it
seems, dispelled all doubt from the mind of Pope Gregory, for in
conclave with the cardinals he proclaimed the sanctity of his friend,
the Poverello d'Assisi, and determined to set the final seal of the
church upon his miracles and fame.
This vision was the prelude of a
great ceremony held a few days later in San Giorgio for the canonisation of
Francis, at which all Umbria seems to have been present. Pope Gregory,
clothed in vestments of cloth of gold embroidered with precious stones, his
tiara "almost as an aureole of sanctity about his head," sat stiffly on his
pontifical throne like some carved image, surrounded by cardinals in
crimson garments and bishops in white stoles. All eyes were fixed upon
this splendid group, and it is not improbable that among the
spectators stood Pietro Bernardone and Madonna Pica, and many who had
reviled Francis in his early days of sanctity, and now, within two years
of his death, witnessed him placed among the greatest of the
saints. Gregory had prepared an eloquent address, which he delivered in
a sonorous voice occasionally broken by sobs of emotion. Becoming more and
more enthusiastic as he proceeded, he compared Francis to a full moon, a
refulgent sun, a star rising above the morning mists, and when he had
finished the pious homily, a sub-deacon read out a list of the saint's
miracles, and a learned cardinal, "not without copious weeping," discoursed
thereon, while the Pope listened, shedding "rivers of tears," and breaking
forth every now and then into deep-drawn sighs. The prelates wept so devoutly
that their vestments were in great part wet, and the ground was drenched with
their tears. The ceremony ended when the Pope rose to bless the people, and
intoned the _Te Deum_, in which all joined with such good will that the
"earth resounded in great jubilee."
Had St. Francis foreseen how his
humility would be rewarded? This we know, that he in part had realised how
his order would slip away from his ideal, and there is a deep note of sadness
in many pages of his life, showing us how fully he realised the pitfalls his
disciples were likely to fall into when he was no longer there to watch over
them with tender care. Often while he was absent for only a little time
the brethren forgot his simple rule, building cells and houses
too spacious and pretentious for the home of the Lady Poverty. This
had been one of the signs to him that his earnest prayers to God,
his example and admonitions to his followers, which come to us through
his letters and the pages of Brother Leo like the cry of one who
bravely fought against the inevitable, were all to be in vain. It is a
tragic story, and rendered still more so by the fact that the Saint's
last years should have been saddened by this knowledge of coming
events.
Only a little while and the teaching of poverty and obscurity
which he had so deeply implanted in the hearts of his followers was to
be completely swept away; upon the ruins of that first franciscan
order, guarded jealously for a time by a faithful few, arose the
new franciscan spirit which Elias Buonbarone, inspired by the will
of Gregory IX, brought into being almost before the echo of his
master's words had died away. It is not for us in this small space to
trace the many changes that crept into the young community, but we
simply note as a fact, what to some may appear exaggerated, that the
order St. Francis founded, and prayed would continue as he left it,
ceased at his death, while the order that grew up afterwards bore
the unmistakable stamp of Elias and the Vatican.
*
* * * *
The extraordinary humility of St. Francis gave
rise to the myth that when he lay dying at the Portiuncula he expressed a
strong desire to be buried in the most despised spot near Assisi, which,
because criminals were said to have been executed there, bore the name
of Colle del Inferno. It seems unlike him to have been concerned with what
might become of "brother body" after death, and it was probably not until
Gregory IX conceived the idea of building a church in honour of his friend,
that a suitable burial-place was searched for near the walls of the town, if
not actually within them, where the citizens could safely guard the precious
relics. Everything favoured the designs of Gregory, for not only was he
fortunate in finding a man like Elias, capable, prompt and energetic, but the
one place suited for the erection of a great church, happened to be in the
possession of a generous citizen of Assisi. No sooner were the wishes of
the Pontiff made known than Simon Puzzarelli offered his land on
the Collis Inferni, which from this time forward Gregory ordered to
be called Collis Paradisi, the Hill of Paradise.[60]
A document, duly
sealed and signed, is still in the Assisan archives, in which we read how the
site for the building of "an oratory or church for the most holy body of St.
Francis" was given over, in words that admitted of no withdrawal, to Elias as
representative of the Lord Pope Gregory IX--"dedit, tradedit, cesset,
delegavit et donavit simpliciter et irrevocabiliter." Now the use of the word
_oratory_ is a remarkable fact as suggesting that at the beginning the
Assisans little dreamed of the erection of a great basilica which would
cast their cathedral entirely into the shade.
A few days after the
ceremony of the canonisation of St. Francis, Pope Gregory, amid the usual
crowd of Umbrian spectators, laid the foundation-stone of the franciscan
basilica. Then being recalled by his Roman subjects, whom Assisan chroniclers
describe as "a race of men most seditious and fierce," he was obliged to
hurry south, leaving Elias to carry out his wishes as he thought
best.
So far the task left to Elias was easy enough, for money was
not lacking, and countless workmen were ready to begin the
great enterprise; but the question of who should design a church upon
the site chosen was a more difficult matter to settle, as Vasari tells
us: "There was a great scarcity of good architects at this time, and
the church, having to be built upon a very high hill, at the base of
which flows a torrent called the Tescio, an excellent artist was
required for the work. After much deliberation a certain Maestro Jacopo
Tedesco was called to Assisi as being the best architect then to be found,
and having examined the site, and consulted the wishes of the fathers,
who were holding a Chapter in Assisi to discuss the matter, he
designed the plan of a very beautiful church and
convent."[61]
"Jacopo" is said to have come to Italy in the retinue of
the Emperor Frederick II. Vasari recounts that the fame he gained all over
Italy by his work at Assisi was so great that the Florentines summoned
him to build them bridges and palaces, and "Jacopo," charmed with
the Tuscan city, married and dwelt there. The citizens, following a
custom which still continues in every Italian town, changed his name to
Lapo, and he is revealed to us as father of the famous Arnolfo di
Lapo, architect of the Florentine cathedral and of the Palazzo
della Signoria. In the seductive pages of Vasari the account reads
so pleasantly that it seems a pity later writers should have
discovered that the story rests upon uncertain dates and legends.
Vasari's endeavour to amalgamate three artists into one person, have
forced many to the opposite extreme, until even the existence of
"Jacopo Tedesco" is denied, and they are reduced to speak of _an_
architect who designed the church and convent of San
Francesco.[62]
Such is the irony of fate, that while numerous documents
remain giving the names of contractors and minor masons employed in the
building there is absolutely no evidence or clue of any kind as to
the architect employed by Elias. We can only suppose that the
document relating to this and other interesting points in connection with
the decoration of the church, must have been destroyed by the
Perugians when they sacked Assisi under Jacopo Piccinino and burnt so
many treasures in the archives. We are consequently at the mercy of
local legends, which were no doubt recounted to Vasari by the
Assisans themselves when he visited the town in the middle of the
sixteenth century. But there is still the evidence of our own eye to help us
to know something of the builder of San Francesco, the builder of
the first Gothic church in Italy. We are told he was a German; but then
we know from Mr Fergusson's Handbook of Architecture that Germans
were only just awakening to the Gothic influences at the time of
St. Francis's death, and, when they wished to build churches in the
new style they called in French masons to help them. Was it
therefore likely that Germany should have given the mysterious architect
to Assisi? A church recalling the Assisan Basilica may be vainly
searched for in Germany or in Lombardy and this further fact inclines us
to believe in the theory of M. Edouard Corroyer.
[Illustration:
CHURCH AND CONVENT OF SAN FRANCESCO]
Whether the man who conceived the
original idea of raising one church above another flanked by a colonnaded
convent on the spur of a great mountain was called Philip or James, or
whether he came from a Lombard or a German province seems of small importance
compared with the country where he learned his art. Even supposing "Jacopo"
to have been a northern Italian from the home of the Comacine Guild of
master masons, which is extremely likely, everything goes to prove that
he must have drawn his inspiration for the Assisan Basilica straight from
the south of France. What establishes the French parentage of San Francesco
is the mode of construction, especially visible in the Upper Church, and
which, as M. Corroyer says, "possesses all the characteristics peculiar to
the French architecture in the south of France at the close of the thirteenth
and the beginning of the fourteenth century, of which the Cathedral of Albi
[in Aquitaine] is the most perfect type. The single nave, its buttresses
projecting externally in the form of half turrets, add to the likeness of
the Italian church of Assisi with that of Albi in France."[63] A glance
at the illustrations of the two churches will bear this theory out
better than many words; and it will be seen at once that had the half
turrets between the bay windows of San Francesco been completed with
pointed roofs and small lancet windows, as no doubt was the intention,
the likeness would be even more striking.
Although "Jacopo" left a
very substantial mark of his genius upon the Umbrian hill-side, he came and
went like a shadow, leaving his designs and plans to be carried on by his
young disciple Fra Filippo Campello, whom we shall meet with again in the
chapter on Santa Chiara. Little, therefore, as we know of this earlier
portion of its history, San Francesco at least remains to us in all its first
prime and glory to tell its own tale, and endless should be the hymn of
praise sung by the Assisans for the chance which brought so beautiful a
creation within their walls.
It seems indeed strange that a style so
new and so admired, was not more faithfully adhered to at a time when
cathedrals and churches were being erected in every Italian city. Perhaps the
Romanesque and Byzantine influences from the south so tempered the Gothic
tendencies of Lombard architects, that they were unable to attain the true
ideal, and succeeded only in creating a style of their own, to be found
at Florence, Siena and Orvieto, known as Italian Gothic. Thus it
happens that the Assisans are the proud possessors, not only of the
first Gothic church built in Italy during the dawn of the new era, but of
a church which is unique, as recalling less dimly than those of
other cities the splendour of the northern cathedrals.
*
* * * *
The rapidity with which the Assisan Basilica
progressed is one of the most wonderful results of the love inspired by St.
Francis among mediæval Christians. The generosity of the Catholic world was
so stirred that donations poured in without ceasing from Germany
and France, and even from Jerusalem and Morocco. "Cardinals,
bishops, dukes, princes, counts and barons," write the chroniclers,
helped Elias in his work, while the people of Umbria, too poor to give
money, came in numbers, out of the reverence they bore the Saint, to work
for small and often for no wages. It was a busy time; and Assisi awoke
to a sense of her importance. Under the vigilant eye of Elias, armies
of masons and labourers worked as unremittingly as ants at a nest,
while processions of carts drawn by white oxen, went ever to and fro
upon the road leading to the quarries, bringing creamy-white, rose
and golden-coloured blocks of Subasian stone.
This universal
enthusiasm enabled Elias to complete the Lower Church in twenty-two months,
while the Upper Church was roofed in six years later, and finished in all
essential details by 1253. But while Elias was applauded by most people, a
few of the franciscans, headed by Fra Leo, still clung to the letter of the
franciscan rule, and bitterly disapproved of these innovations. They
sorrowfully looked on at the army of workers, raising, as if by magic, walls
and colonnades upon the hill-side and towers ever higher against the sky.
They watched blocks of marble and stone being chiselled into cornices,
friezes and capitals ornamented with foliage and flowers, until, with despair
in their hearts, they slowly returned to their mud huts in the plain.
The dreams of Francis were vanishing fast as the allegiance to the
Lady Poverty diminished. Now her shrine existed only in the Carceri, in
San Damiano and in the Portiuncula, where few sought her company, for
all eyes were turned towards the new Basilica. The words of the
Master, recorded faithfully in Leo's biography, were ever ringing in his
ears: "Set a good hedge round in lieu of a wall, as a sign of holy
poverty and humility ... build poor little cells of mud and wood, and
other cells where at times the brethren may pray and work to the gain
of virtue and the avoidance of sloth. Also cause small churches to
be built; they ought not to raise great churches for the sake of preaching
to the people, or for any other reason, for they will show greater humility
and give a better example by going to preach in other churches. And if by
chance prelates, clerics, religious or seculars should come to these abodes,
the poor houses, the little cells and small churches will be better sermons
and cause greater edification to them than many words."[64]
No wonder
that Leo and his friends watched Elias at his work with no friendly eye, for
between the mud huts which Francis had planned with so much simplicity, and
the massive Basilica and palatial convent, stretched an infinite chasm,
separating the old order from the new.
They were still more unhappy and
scandalised when Elias, who had the full permission of Gregory IX. for this
innovation, placed a marble vase outside San Francesco to receive the
contributions of those anxious to see the church quickly finished. A curious
account is given by a latin chronicler of the warfare which ensued between
the standard-bearers of the new and the old franciscan spirit:
"Some brothers of marvellous sanctity and purity went to Perugia to
consult Brother Egidio, a good and pious man, concerning the erection of
so large a building and the manner of collecting money, which seemed to be
expressly against the rule. And Brother Egidio answered them: "If that
building were to reach from Assisi to here [to Perugia] a little corner would
suffice for me to dwell in." And they having asked him what he thought about
the vase, he said, turning to Brother Leo: "If thou considerest thyself
already dead [to the world and its persecutions] go and break it. But if thou
livest, stay thy hand, for perchance thou mayest not be able to bear the
persecution of that Brother Elias."[65] Hearing this, Brother Leo went with
his companions and broke the vase to pieces. Then Brother Elias, hearing
this, had them severely beaten by his servants, and drove them from Assisi
in great confusion. For this reason a great tumult arose among
the brethren. Because of these aforesaid excesses, and because
Brother Elias threatened the complete destruction of the rule, when
the brethren met in general Chapter they deprived him of the office
of Vicar General, and unanimously elected Brother John of
Florence [Giovanni Parenti]."[66]
But these murmurs were drowned in
the din of public applause which enabled Elias to work in his own way,
unscrupulously dispersing every difficulty without any reference to the rule
of St. Francis.
He continued to be the presiding spirit at Assisi, and
such was the success of his untiring energy that by the month of May 1230,
the Lower Church of the Basilica was ready to receive the "most
sacred body" of the Saint, while the magnificent quarters in the
adjoining convent were ready for those friars who belonged to the
moderate party, and approved of the new order of things.
Pope Gregory
was unable to visit Assisi at this time owing to difficulties with his unruly
Roman subjects, but he sent innumerable indulgences, golden crosses studded
with precious stones containing relics of the true cross, vases of silver and
gold, and a large sum of money for the further advancement of the building.
These generous gifts were followed by a Brief, which in calmer moments the
monks might have viewed with irritation, declaring both Basilica and
convent to be immediately subject to the Holy See. The franciscan order
was fast becoming a Papal institution, to be patronised and ruled
by succeeding Pontiffs.
While Giovanni Parenti was preparing for the
Conclave to be held in the spacious rooms of the new convent, the wily Elias
was holding secret councils with the magistrates of the town as to ensuring
the safe conduct of the body of St. Francis to the Basilica. The number
of people continually arriving in anticipation of the coming ceremony made
them somewhat uneasy, and their doubts were carefully discussed in the
Communal Palace. They came to the conclusion that if the exact place of the
saint's sepulchre was known, there would always be the danger of its being
rifled by the citizens of neighbouring towns, especially by the Perugians,
whose partiality for relics was well known. So a stratagem, most likely
invented by the fertile brain of Elias, was decided upon and succeeded
admirably.
The friars and citizens, unconscious of the plot hatched in
their midst, were all eager for the day of the Translation. The
Umbrians left their towns empty to assist at the great spectacle, and
their number was so great, that, failing to find room within the walls
of Assisi, they wandered like droves of cattle on the hills above
trying to obtain a sight of the procession. It was a great day in the
annals of Assisi; outside the little church of San Giorgio a triumphal
car, drawn by a pair of magnificent oxen, their whiteness almost
hidden beneath purple draperies and their horns wreathed and garlanded
with flowers, stood waiting for the holy burden. Three Papal Legates
and Elias placed the heavy sarcophagus with their own hands upon the
car, covering it over with a piece of rich brocaded silk sent for
the occasion by the mother of King Louis of France. They kept close to
the car all the time, while the brethren, holding palms and
torches, formed a long procession followed by the bishops and their clergy,
and the Podesta with his retinue of crimson-robed priors. It was the
month of May, and from every garden and terrace the nobles and their
ladies showered flowers over the "sacred ark" as it was borne slowly up
the street amidst the deafening sound of trumpets and the cheers of
the populace. All that could be done to honour St. Francis had
been thought of; Gregory IX. had even composed a hymn to be sung on
that day in which the "Poverello" was compared to Christ. They were in
the midst of the hymn of praise and quite close to the new Basilica
when the heavy tramp of numerous armed men was suddenly heard; swiftly
a passage was made through the crowd, who for the moment fell back amazed
and powerless, while the soldiers hurried with the sarcophagus into the
church, closely followed by Elias, who promptly shut and barred the door.
After the first moment of surprise, a wild burst of indignation arose from
the thousands who were thus deprived of a spectacle which they had come miles
to see. They howled like wild beasts baulked of their prey, banging at the
doors of the church in their fury; but silence reigned within, for Elias and
his accomplices were stealthily engaged in hiding the body of St. Francis in
the very bowels of the mountain, where for five centuries it remained
unseen and undisturbed.
Till far into the night the people continued
to murmur; the bewildered friars asked each other what this strange behaviour
of Elias meant, and the only people who preserved any appearance of calmness
were Messer il Podesta of Assisi and his priors, who smiled to see how
well the plot had worked. It was not long before the scandal reached
the ears of Pope Gregory. The enemies of Elias painted the story
in glowing colours, and the Pope expressed himself greatly shocked
at sacrilegious hands having been laid upon the holy body of the saint. He
blamed the magistrates for allowing such a tumult to arise, and called upon
them to give due explanation of their conduct within a fortnight at the court
of Rome under pain of their city being laid under an interdict. The Pope's
Brief caused consternation, and his accusations of their ingratitude for past
favour rankled deeply. We are not told how the anger of the Pope was
pacified, but no doubt both Elias and the Podesta explained satisfactorily
the reasons for so strange a burial, as Assisi continued to enjoy the
patronage of the Holy See. The efforts of Elias to ensure the safety of the
body of St. Francis had been eminently successful, and Gregory could hardly
fail to pardon the unusual manner in which this had been obtained. |
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