The Story of Assisi 5

	The Story of Assisi 5

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.