Out of the mysterious events of that day of tumult grew a legend
which lasted until the body of St. Francis was finally discovered
five centuries later. It was believed that a church far surpassing
the other two in grandeur and beauty had been built beneath them by
Elias, and that St. Francis risen from his tomb stood in the midst, his
hands crossed upon his breast, his head thrown back, gazing
eternally towards the sky. The Umbrians, refusing to believe that their
saint could suffer the common lot of mortals, loved to think of him
as "almost alive," waiting for the last call, surrounded by the
glorious beauty of a hidden church which they had never seen and only
dimly pictured to themselves. Vasari refers to this "invisible
church" described to him by the awe-struck citizens, when he mentions
that "the tomb containing the body of the glorious saint is in the
lowest church where no one enters, and whose doors are walled up"; and in
the beginning of his description of the Basilica, he speaks of
three ranges of buildings placed one above the other, the lowest of
all being subterranean, which is curious as showing how closely
he followed tradition regarding the Assisan church. Padre Angeli
so unhesitatingly accepted the story that in his "Collis Paradisi" he drew
from imagination a plan, together with a picture of the "invisible church."
It represents a long vaulted hall somewhat recalling the architecture of the
Upper Church, at the end of which is St. Francis standing upon his tomb in a
recess corresponding to a kind of choir; the vaulted roof is supported by
slender columns with chiselled capitals, and the walls and floor are
ornamented with marbles and mosaic of different colours.
* * * * *
To close this chapter without touching
upon the career of Elias, who is at once the black sheep of the franciscan
order and one of the greatest citizens of Assisi, would be impossible. Few
have written calmly about him, trying either to exculpate him or blaming
his actions too severely, so that it is difficult to obtain any just
idea of the real motives which guided him in an ill-starred life. Elias
was neither devil nor saint, though he possessed the energy of both
and his marked and domineering character would have fitted him better
for the world than for the cloister. Ambition seems to have been his
chief fault, together with a certain proud reserve which kept him aloof
from his companions. From the various references to him in the
early biographies of St. Francis we feel the writers failed ever to
come quite in touch with one so outside their lives, and whom
they considered as a kind of Judas--for did he not betray the interests
of the Master?
"Elias is an altogether different type of man from the
simple-minded Francis," writes Mrs Oliphant, echoing the general opinion. "He
is an ambitious and ascetic churchman, of the class which has pushed
Rome into much power and many abuses--an almost conventional development
of the intellectual monk, making up for compulsory humbleness in
external matters by the highest strain of ecclesiastical ambition and
spiritual pride."
But while all abused him, none doubted his very
exceptional talents, and even in the _Fioretti_ he was accounted "one of the
most learned men in the world," and St. Francis showed the great confidence
he had in him by naming him Vicar-General after the death of Peter
Cataneo. It was at a Chapter held in the wood by the Portiuncula that the
saint expressed his desire to again resign the government of the order
to another, and while Elias discoursed to the assembled friars St. Francis
sat at his feet listening attentively to every word.[67] On the other hand,
the saint was quite aware of his faults, and from the _Fioretti_, where Elias
is pictured for artistic effect in strong colours as the wicked friar, we
seem to realize the strain that often must have come between these two very
different men. Thus we read that it being revealed to St. Francis that Elias
was destined to lose his soul and bring dishonour on the order, he conceived
such an antipathy towards him that he would even avoid meeting him, although
at the time they were living in the same convent. The scene when
Elias, discovering the reason of his displeasure, threw himself at the
feet of the saint to implore his intercession with heaven reveals in
the most touching way the great belief and reverence inspired by
St. Francis in the heart of the least docile of his followers. "I have
so great a faith in thy prayers," said Elias, "that were I in the midst of
hell, and thou wert to pray to God for me, I should feel some relief;
therefore again I pray thee to commend me, a sinner, unto God who came to
save sinners that He may receive me into His mercy." And this did Brother
Elias say with much devotion and many tears, so that St. Francis, like a
pitying father, promised to pray to God for him. It will be seen how far the
revelation of St. Francis came true, and the manner in which his prayer was
answered.
So long as Elias remained under the influence of Francis his
pride was tempered, and his ambition curbed, but when cast upon his
own resources he gave full rein to the ideas which had no doubt
been forming in his mind for some years past. Elias thought the
franciscan order, if faithful to the Lady Poverty, would prove of
small importance; and he therefore willingly leagued with Gregory IX.
to mould it so that it should become a visible power upon the earth.
The vision he conjured up with the sceptre in his own hand was very
fair; and he failed to see why religion should not be served quite as
well within the massive convent walls he had helped to rear, as
when dwelling in a mud hut. He had too broad a mind to look closely to
the detail of his rule; he only saw the broad outline of his
master's teaching; and who can say whether after all he was not right? This
we know, the mud huts have long since vanished, while thousands come
each year to pray at the tomb of Francis within sight of
Giotto's master-pieces. They sing aloud his praises, and as they pray and
sing throw coppers and silver in heaps upon the altar steps, and pass
out of the church into the sunlight again, knowing little of the
lessons St. Francis spent his life in teaching.
But we must return
again to Elias and his many troubles with the franciscan world. While
patronized by Pope Gregory, he also seems to have had a strong party of monks
on his side, probably those who had joined the Order during the last few
years. Their names have not come down to us, and their personalities have
merged in that of Elias who thus led them forward on a somewhat perilous way.
They began by attempting to depose Giovanni Parenti while he was holding a
Chapter in the new convent, a few days after the ceremony of the
Translation of the body of St. Francis to the Basilica. His friars were
gathered round him discussing the various missions to be undertaken, and
the work that had been done during the past year, when the door was
thrown open and a crowd of excited friars with Elias at their head
appeared upon the threshold. Before anyone could realize what this
strange apparition meant, Elias was borne rapidly along by his companions
and installed in the seat of Giovanni Parenti, while a scene
of indescribable tumult arose among those whose indignation had not
yet cooled down after the events of the past week. It is said that
St. Anthony of Padua was present at this conclave, and vainly tried
to calm the excitement, but his voice was drowned in the clamour. At last,
driven to despair, Giovanni Parenti began to cry aloud and tear his garments
as one distraught; he could not have hit upon a better plan, for where words
had failed this piece of dramatic acting produced an instantaneous effect.
His friars formed a vanguard round him, acclaiming him Vicar-General as they
beat back the intruders with hard blows and angry scowls. Elias, seeing the
game was lost, threw himself on the ground, and with expressions of deep
contrition implored forgiveness. He was pardoned, but banished to a
distant hermitage, where humbled and sad he pondered for many months upon
his next move. He allowed his hair and beard to grow to such a length
that even his enemies began to believe his repentance was sincere, and
only two years after his misconduct we find him elected Vicar-General
in the place of his former rival, and, under the title of Guardian
and Master of the Basilica and Convent, in full command of the works
at San Francesco.
He now enjoyed a season of peace and plenty in the
comfortable quarters of the franciscan convent, and is said to have gathered
a household about him surpassing the splendour of a cardinal's court. Fra
Illuminato di Rieti (afterwards Bishop of Assisi) acted as his secretary,
writing numberless letters to "the Pope and the Princes of the World," for
Elias was in correspondence with more than one crowned head and paid many
visits to distant courts in quest of money for the Assisan Church. On these
journeys he always went on horseback, and even when going from one church to
another in Umbria, he was well mounted on a "fat and stout palfrey," to the
intense scandal of some of the friars. "He also had secular servants," writes
an indignant chronicler, "all dressed in divers colours like to those of
bishops, who ministered to him in all things." His food was always good, and
he had the reputation of keeping an excellent cook.
This peaceful and
successful period of his life was of short duration, for he soon fell into
dire trouble and disgrace. It was his misfortune to be sent by Pope Gregory,
who trusted implicitly in his discretion and ability, on a mission to
Frederic II, in the hopes of bringing the Emperor to a sense of his
misdoings. A disciple of St. Francis seemed to be the right person to send as
an emissary of peace; but instead of the orthodox humble and barefooted
friar, we read of him as a very haughty personage, quite at his ease in the
political world, then ringing with the angry cries of Guelph and
Ghibelline.
No sooner had Elias reached the franciscan convent at Parma
than the magnates of the city, aware of the errand he had come upon,
assembled to do him honour. Fra Salimbene, who was present at the
interview, describes how Elias waited for his visitors, his head swathed in
an Armenian turban, and comfortably seated upon a soft chair drawn
close to a huge fire. When Gherardo da Correggio, known as "Messer
il Podesta of the big teeth," entered the room, Elias remained seated, and
to the astonishment of all in no way disturbed himself for his illustrious
guest. The Podesta very sensibly took no offence, but passed the matter over
by expressing his wonder that the Vicar-General should have chosen so cold a
season for his visit to Lombardy--a glance at the fire had told him that this
franciscan friar liked comfort as much as most people.
There is no
detailed account of the interview of Elias with the Emperor to inform us
whether he behaved at it with the same easy familiarity; all we know is that
Frederic, "the wonder of the world," and Elias, the Assisan friar, formed a
friendship which lasted during the remainder of their lives, linking them
together in a common fate. Whether Elias was won over from the first by the
charm of so fascinating a personality, or simply baffled by a mind more
subtle than his own, it is difficult to say, as the chroniclers have
drawn too thick a veil over this unfortunate meeting for anyone to
judge with fairness. His failure certainly gave a good opportunity to
his many enemies to commence a very satisfactory scheme of blackening
his character with the Pope; and the rumour flew to Rome that he was
a traitor to his church. Branded with the abhorred name of
Ghibelline there was now little hope for Elias, whose friendship with
the arch-enemy of Holy Church grew always stronger. The Lombards
becoming uneasy, accused Gregory of favouring the Emperor, while the
latter bitterly complained that the Pope listened too much to the cause
of the Lombards, and thought too little of the imperial dignity. At last a
Chapter was called to enquire into the conduct of the Vicar-General, and as
he was not present, his misdeeds lost nothing by the telling. Although Elias
was deposed, and his place filled by a Pisan, he still held the title of
Guardian and Master of the Assisan Basilica, but in a city of such strong
Guelph sympathies as Assisi, it was unlikely he would be left in peace,
especially as the Pope no longer favoured him. Life soon became impossible
there, and of his own free will he retired to a hermitage in the woods of
Cortona, followed by some dozen faithful friars, "not excepting," adds a
spiteful chronicler, "Fra Bartolomeo da Padova, his most excellent cook."
Thence he wrote to the Pope explaining his conduct, and humbly entreating to
be pardoned, but the letter was found years afterwards in the pocket of the
Pisan Vicar-General, who had promised to deliver it safely at Rome.
Whether the letter was wilfully laid aside or only forgotten, none have
been able to decide, but the incident had disastrous effects upon Elias.
He waited anxiously for the pardon which never came, until embittered
by finding himself deserted by nearly everyone, he openly joined the party
of Frederic II. He went a step further, and abused Pope Gregory in caustic
language, taunting him with injustice and avarice, and with being a simonist,
which of course ended in his excommunication "to the great scandal of the
Church." The news of his disgrace spread quickly through Italy, and the
children sang a couplet, invented on the spur of the moment, under the
windows of franciscan convents:
"Or'e attorno Frat'Elia Che
pres'ha la mala via."
It was the cry which met the friars in every street
they passed, so that the name of their former Vicar-General became hateful to
them. And yet even now Elias must have had some friends in the Order, as
at a council held at Genoa in 1244 there were a few who wished
to reinstate him. The Pope commanded him to appear, but as the papal brief
never arrived he was thus again debarred from clearing his much damaged
character. The consequence of these efforts in his behalf only ended in his
falling still deeper into disgrace; and for the second time he was
excommunicated. We next hear of him roaming about the country with Frederic
II, who found him useful on more than one occasion as a diplomatic agent.
Elias was sent with strong letters of recommendation from Pier delle Vigne to
Baldwin II, Emperor of Constantinople, and to Hugo I, King of Cyprus, and he
was even charged to arrange a marriage for a daughter of Frederic. Among his
various talents Elias seems to have been able to accommodate himself to
a military life. We hear of him, both at the siege of Faenza and
of Ravenna, riding out to battle on a magnificent charger. At other
times he found a peaceful asylum at the Emperor's court, presenting
a strange contrast to the "strolling minstrels, troubadours,
poets, warriors, jugglers and artists of every grade" who frequented it.
Upon the Emperor's death Elias returned to Cortona where the
citizens received him kindly as he had obtained privileges for them at
various times from his patron. Here, at the small hermitage in the ilex
wood, he passed the last few years of his life in building a
Franciscan church and convent, aided by the citizens who gave the ground for
the site.
While the last touch was being put to the building of the
great Assisan Basilica and it was about to be consecrated by Innocent IV,
in 1253, Elias lay dying in his little cell at Cortona. His
loneliness touched the heart of a lay brother, who with gentle words
expressed his sorrow at seeing him an outcast from the Order and offered
him help. Elias, no longer the proud ambitious churchman, answered
very gently: "My brother, I see no other way save that thou shouldst go
to the Pope and beg him for the love of God and of St. Francis
His servant, through whose teaching I quitted the world, to absolve
me from his excommunication and to give me back again the habit
of religion." The lay brother hastened to Rome and pleaded so humbly
that Innocent "permitted him to go back, and if he found Brother
Elias alive he was to absolve him in his name from the excommunication
and restore unto him the habit; so full of joy the friar departed
and returned in hot haste to Brother Elias, and finding him yet alive
but nigh unto death he absolved him from the excommunication and put
on him again the habit, and Brother Elias quitted this life and his
soul was saved by the merits of St. Francis and by his prayers in
which Brother Elias had reposed such great faith."
Some say that even
at the last fate pursued Elias, for the city of Cortona being at that time
under an interdict no blessed oil could be found for the sacrament of extreme
unction. Certainly his body was not allowed to rest in the church he had
built for the brethren. A zealous friar dug it up and flung it on a dunghill,
saying that no Ghibelline should be permitted to lie in consecrated
ground.
Thus it was that Elias left a name hated among the franciscans
as bitterly as the Emperor Frederic's always has been by
Guelph historians. But while the war against the latter still rages
as fiercely as ever, Elias, save for the gratitude felt by the citizens of
Assisi, rests almost forgotten and his story hidden in the pages of old
chronicles. Few even remember that owing to the untiring energy of this man
Assisi owns one of the most beautiful monuments of mediæval art. It is
possible that had Fra Leo, Bernard of Quintavalle and his companions
succeeded in those first days of struggle, the Basilica of San Francesco
might never have attained its present magnificence or the art of Giotto been
born in this Umbrian corner of Italy. Chi lo sa? It is a question one hardly
even likes to think of. But the danger passed away, and who cares now whether
the franciscans grumbled at the time, or said the church and convent with its
buttresses and towers looked more like the feudal fortress of some mighty
baron than the tomb of the Preacher of Poverty? The San Francesco we love
rises golden and rose-tinted above the olive groves and the vineyards,
above the plain with its young corn and the white villages lying among
the fruit-trees, above a rushing torrent which circles round the base
of the Subasian mountain on its way to the Tiber; and all day the
varied group of church, arcaded convent and terraced gardens, is showing
its beauty to the sun.
In every light it is beautiful, in every mood
we recall it, together with the choicest things we have seen in travel,
haunting us like the charm of a living person. When the winter mists at early
morning wrap round it like a mantle, or the stars form crowns above its roof
and bell tower, there is always some new loveliness which thrills us,
some fresh note of colour we have not noticed there before, making us
again and again feel grateful that Elias forgot or ignored the teaching
of his master.
[Illustration: SAN FRANCESCO FROM THE
PLAIN]
FOOTNOTES:
[59] In the same way when Beato Egidio, ill and
nigh his end, wished to return to the Portiuncula to die in the place he
loved so well, the Perugians refused their consent and even placed soldiers
round the monastery of Monte Ripido to prevent his escape.
[60] In the
illustrations on p. 38 and p. 107 is shown the gallows erected where now
stands the franciscan basilica, but it is unlikely that the property of a
private individual should have been used for such a purpose, and Collis
Inferni may simply have meant the spur of hill beneath the upper portion of
Assisi upon which the castle stood.
[61] See Vasari, _Life of Arnolfo di
Lapo_.
[62] It would be a thankless task to follow the bewildering maze
of contradictory evidence which has enveloped the question as to who built
San Francesco. Those who are eager to do so, however, can consult Henry
Thode's exhaustive work, _Franz von Assisi_ (beginning p. 187), which deals
most thoroughly with the subject. Leader Scott also, in her learned book upon
_The Cathedral Builders_, gives some ingenious theories with regard to
"Jacopo" and his supposed relationship with Arnolfo, p.
315-316.
Another book is _I Maestri Comacini_, by Professore Marzario,
whose statements about "Jacopo's" nationality are interesting and
probable. But, following Vasari a little too blindly, he gives us the
startling fact that "Jacopo" died in 1310, this, even supposing him to have
been only twenty-five when he was at Assisi as chief architect, would
make him one hundred and fifteen years of age at the time of his
death.
[63] _L'Architecture Gothique_ par M. Edouard Corroyer. See pp. 96
and 105.
[64] _Speculum Perfectionis._ Edited by Paul Sabatier, cap.
x.
[65] For the Latin text see p. c. of M. Paul Sabatier's
introduction to his edition of the _Speculum Perfectionis_.
[66]
Giovanni Parenti, who does not stand out very clearly in the history of the
Order, was a Florentine magistrate of Citta di Castello, one of the first
towns to feel the influence of St. Francis. There he heard of the new
movement which so rapidly was spreading throughout Western Europe, and,
together with many of the citizens, became converted through the teaching of
the Umbrian saint.
[67] It is impossible in this small book to give any
idea of the various influences at work upon the young franciscan order during
the life of the saint. I can only refer my readers to the charming
pages of M. Paul Sabatier, who gives us a vivid picture of these early
days in _La Vie de Saint Francois_, and in his introduction to
the _Speculum Perfectionis_.
CHAPTER V
_Cimabue and
his School at San Francesco_
"Il semble au premier coup d'oeil que le
reve de Francois d'Assise a du amener la fin de tout l'art et de toute
noble vie. Chose etrange! ce sordide mendiant fut le pere de l'art
italien."--E. RENAN. _Nouvelles Etudes d'Histoire Religieuse._
THE
LOWER CHURCH
So rarely in Italy is a church perfect both within and
without that it is with amazement we find at Assisi not one but two churches,
choir and nave piled above each other, and covered from roof to floor
with frescoes, as perfect of their kind as the buildings which
they decorate. Wars in every town, trouble, dissension and jealousies
among men, raged like a storm over the land, but all this turmoil of
a fevered age was unable to check the steady, rapid progress of at
least this monument to a dead saint's memory; and we perceive yet
another proof of the extraordinary influence of St. Francis, who was able
by the devotion and admiration he excited, to inspire all with some of his
own love of the beautiful, which has lasted in Italy, from the days of his
ministry, through centuries of both faith and unbelief down to modern times.
But from this arose a strange event; this lover of solitude, who during his
life sought only for humiliation and obscurity and loved best the poor and
deserted way-side sanctuaries, was laid to rest in one of the most beautiful
Italian churches of that time.
[Illustration: THE LOWER
CHURCH]
While wandering through the Lower Church, marvelling at the
delicate friezes of tiny heads, flowers and winged horses, which frame
every fresco; at the great spreading arches--built for strength; the
vaulted roof of deep azure blue with dull golden stars upon its
surface, looming above the paintings and dimming their brilliancy by
the shadows which lurk in its depth, we feel that within the shelter
of its perpetual twilight this is a place to pray in. It is truly the home
of St. Francis, and notwithstanding its richness and vast splendour his
spirit is here, the certainty that he once had dwelt upon the earth is
felt.
Few ever stop to look at the walls of the nave, and indeed,
upon coming out of the sunlight, the darkness and gloom for some minutes
is oppressive and but little can be distinguished in the gloom. It
was almost by chance that we one day noticed some frescoes, ruined
and faded, just outside the Chapel of St. Martin. They are of no beauty
as works of art, indeed they are rather ugly, but their interest lies
in showing us that from the very beginning artists had
endeavoured, however feebly, to depict the legend of St. Francis.[68] On the
left wall of the nave, outside the Chapel of St. Martin, is a
fresco representing the Sermon to the Birds with the same idea of
composition which was adopted later by Giotto; the saint slightly bends
towards the birds upon the ground, his companion stands behind, while
the single tree adds a certain solemnity to the scene. The figures
are large and ungainly, with feet terrible to behold, the lines are
hard, and there is little feeling of movement or life; yet we look at
it with reverence and hope, for we know that, with all the ugliness
and stiffness of workmanship, the artist was vehemently striving in
this dark church to shake off the hampering chains of worn-out
traditions, and find for himself something nearer to the truth. And as we
look at this one and at the next, representing St. Francis receiving
the Stigmata, our thoughts are carried to other renderings of
these scenes, and we say with light hearts: "After this poor craftsman
comes Giotto, King of Tuscan painters."
These are the only two
frescoes illustrating the life of the saint, though there may have been
others which were destroyed when the walls of the nave were broken down in
order to form entrances to the chapels, added to the main building about
1300. But on the right side, beginning outside the Chapel of San Stefano, are
parts of several scenes from the New Testament; a crowd of women and men
standing round the cross, a group of women, the Descent from the Cross, a
Pieta, a landscape with houses and a decoration of circular ornaments
outside the Capella di Sta. Maria Maddalena, generally attributed to
Giunta Pisano, thus giving them too early a date.[69]
To us their
interest seems rather to lie in that they plainly show how the earliest
masters, whilst endeavouring to illustrate the franciscan legend, failed so
completely to satisfy their employers that they were bidden to stay their
hand and continue to paint the well-worn theme of the history of the world's
redemption, which required less invention than the legend of St. Francis,
where a new out-look on life had to be acquired. So the franciscans, failing
to find a painter who could illustrate their founder's life to their
satisfaction, contented themselves with other things, perhaps hoping that in
course of time one might arise who could do justice to the theme. Well it was
that they waited.
Shortly after these frescoes had been completed in
the Lower Church, art received a new impulse (one likes to think that the
struggles of the first artist towards something better and more true to life
had to do with this); others came, with Giotto at their head, and
painted over some of these early efforts, leaving us only Cimabue's
great Madonna, a few ruined frescoes, a Byzantine pattern, and stray
touches of colour in dark corners of the church to remind us of these
first decorators of San Francesco.
We get a melancholy picture from
Vasari of the depths to which art had sunk, and of the degenerate artists
still following a worn-out tradition until it became as a dead thing in their
hands deprived of all inspiration, when "in the year 1240, by the will of
God, Giovanni Cimabue ... was born in the city of Florence to give the first
light to the art of painting."
Cimabue is rightly called the Father of
Italian art, as he represented a new era among Italian masters who were
awakening to their country's needs; when men, filled with strange restless
energy, grew tired of the Byzantine Madonna with her court of stiff, lifeless
saints, and looked for something in closer touch with their mood and
aspirations.
Round the name of Cimabue are grouped many charming legends
belonging to a time when the people, anxious to possess the new thing
their hearts craved for, looked eagerly and critically at an artist's
work. There is the story of how when he had finished the picture of
the Virgin Mary, the Florentines came to his workshop, and, expecting
much from him, yet were amazed at the wonderful beauty of the
grand Madonna, and carried the picture with rejoicing, to the sound
of music, to the Church of Sta. Maria Novella, where it still hangs in the
dark chapel of the Ruccellai; a street in Florence down which the picture
passed being called Borgo Allegri, because of the gladness of that day. It is
only a legend, and one that has been oft repeated, and as often doubted. Now
the existence of Cimabue is even questioned by some, but whoever invented the
story understood the great change which had come among the people and into
art. It was only right that in the church of the saint who personified the
feeling of the age, caught its spirit, and sent the impulse of the people
even further, should centre all the first efforts towards this awakening and
revival, until, step by step, the masterpieces of Giotto were reached. When
we remember this, the large fresco of Cimabue in the right transept of the
Lower Church becomes more full of beauty and meaning.[70] The great
spirit of her presence fills the church, her majesty and nobility is that
of the ideal Madonna, grave to sadness, thinking, as her eyes
look steadily out upon the world, what future years would bring to
the Child seated on her lap, who stretches out a baby hand to clasp
her veil. All the angels round the throne sway towards her; in their
heavy plaits of hair shines a dull red light, and in their wings and on
the Madonna's gown are mauve and russet shades like the colours
of autumnal oaks.... "To this day," says Mr Ruskin, "among all the
Mater Dolorosas of Christianity, Cimabue's at Assisi is the noblest; nor
did any painter after him add one link to the chain of thought with
which he summed the creation of the earth, and preached its
redemption."
St. Francis has not been forgotten in this fresco, but
Cimabue having given all his art to make the Virgin and her choir of
angels beautiful, his figure is not quite one's idea of the ethereal
Umbrian preacher, and his being there at all spoils the symmetry of
the grouping. It is not improbable that the figure of St. Clare stood
on the other side, and was erased when the Chapel of Sta. Maria
Maddalena was built, and the ornamental border painted round this fresco,
which cut off part of the wings of the two angels on the left of the
Virgin.
Vasari vaguely tells us of some frescoes from the lives of
Jesus Christ and of St. Francis, painted by Cimabue in the Lower Church,
and later writers have thought these must have been destroyed to make room
for Giotto's work. If paintings were there at all they were more likely to
have been the work of inferior artists, for it seems improbable that Giotto,
coming to Assisi for the first time when he was quite a youth, should destroy
any work of his master, who was still alive, in order to substitute his own
early efforts.
THE UPPER CHURCH
Not only was the Upper Church
essentially fitted for fresco painting, but it required an elaborate scheme
of decoration, just as a setting, however perfect, needs a gem to complete
it; and it almost seems as though "Jacopo" had stayed his hand, with the
intention that here, at least, architecture should be subservient to wall
decoration, and had foreseen the need of large spaces to be covered with
paintings, as brightly coloured, as clear, and as closely set together as are
the colours upon a butterfly's wings.
"It was here, in the Upper
Church of Assisi," says Mr Roger Fry, "that the Italian genius first attained
to self-expression in the language of monumental painting, a language which
no other European nation, except the Greeks, has ever mastered." But the
question as to who were the predecessors of Giotto, and when exactly they
came, can never, we think, be answered; for the time is not far off when
these splendid ruins of early art will have totally faded away, or, what
is infinitely worse, be covered with still thicker layers of paint
than the "restorer" has already laid upon them.
[Illustration:
LOOKING THROUGH THE DOORS OF THE UPPER CHURCH TOWARDS THE PORTA S. GIACOMO
AND THE CASTLE]
Vasari finds no difficulty about the matter, declaring,
to his own satisfaction and for the instruction of future generations, that
every fresco in the apse and transepts, together with the series relating
to the history of the Jews and the life of Christ, are by Cimabue.
But then Cimabue was a Tuscan, and Vasari, the painter of Tuscan
Arezzo, was determined to give as much glory to his fatherland as he could.
We too would give all possible honour to Cimabue, but are bound to
follow the opinion of later critics, who less prejudiced and hasty in
their criticisms than Vasari, see the work of many hands in all
these frescoes; so we have gathered together a few notes concerning
them from various authorities to help the traveller to form his own
ideas upon the subject. The theme is too endless to attempt in a small
space to give more than a very brief summary of the chief
facts.
_Frescoes of the Choir and Transepts._--These may be divided into
two distinct classes, those of the north transept, which are older
and inferior to those of the south transept and choir. Herr
Thode attributes their difference to the fact that while all are the work
of Cimabue, the frescoes in the north transept were painted when he
was quite young, while the rest belong to a later period, when he
had attained his full powers. The Crucifixion of the north transept,
one of the most ruined, reminds us somewhat of works by Margaritone
which may be studied, without much pleasure, in most Italian galleries.
The figures standing round the Cross are short, with small heads and
large hands, and not even in the fainting Madonna is there the
slightest charm. In the Martyrdom of St. Peter, on the next wall, it is
curious to note the similarity of treatment to Giotto's fresco at Rome of
the same subject. The Saint, head downwards upon the Cross without
any group of people would have made but a dull composition; so
both artists added an obelisk on either side to relieve the monotony
of line.
Then follows the scene of Simon Magus being borne upwards by
demons with bat-like wings; and upon the next wall, beneath the triforium,
is represented the death of Ananias and Sapphira, and St. Peter curing the
lame before the Temple, where the figures are certainly more majestic and,
according to Herr Thode, distinctly show the hand of Cimabue.
Behind
the papal throne are medallions of the friend and patron of St. Francis,
Gregory IX, and of Innocent IV, who consecrated the Basilica. The frescoes
represent the life of the Virgin, but they are all too faded to be enjoyed,
save that of the Coronation on the right wall, just above the choir stalls;
the Virgin is seated upon a wooden throne with Christ by her side and a group
of apostles and spectators beneath. There is a striking resemblance in the
drawing and form of the standing figures to those in the Crucifixion of the
south transept. This, though very ruined and blackened in parts, showing
no other trace of colour than a faint film of golden yellow, has still the
power to make us feel that once, long ago, it was a fine work, worthy of a
great master. Weeping angels fly above the Cross, some with outstretched
hands, while others veil their eyes from the sight of the suffering Saviour;
the Magdalen, her arms thrown up above her head, is seen in strong relief
against the sky, and contrasting with this dramatic gesture, is the figure of
the Virgin, erect and still, her hand clasped in that of St. John. The whole
conception is dignified, replete with dramatic feeling of the nobler kind,
and has been thought worthy, by Herr Thode, to be put down as the finest
of Cimabue's creations.
The remaining frescoes deal with scenes from
the Apocalypse, but they are so ruined that it is a thankless task for any,
except the student, to try and distinguish each separately. Indeed after a
minute examination of so many ruined works of art, a certain sadness
and weariness is felt, but if the pilgrim has time to rest awhile in
a quiet corner of the stalls and look at choir and transepts solely
for their colour, he will gain for himself many beautiful memories
not easily forgotten. It is a vision of youthful saints, of men
with lances hurrying down a rocky mountain side, of angels trumpeting
to the four ends of the earth, and out of this medley of shadowy forms in
fading frescoes, like sunlight breaking through a mist with golden light,
loom the mighty angels of Cimabue. Their heads are crowned by a heavy mass of
auburn hair, their wings slightly lifted, as though they were on earth but
for a short space, and they seem as remote from mortals as the Sphynx herself
in their dignity and calm repose. To Cimabue belongs the conception of such
grave and strangely beautiful creations, winged messengers of strength, who
come midway between the stiff Byzantine figures, and the swift-moving angels
of Giotto and the cherub children forms of later Umbrian and Venetian
schools.
_The Nave._--All writers upon the subject agree that here the
frescoes show no trace of Cimabue's style, but are from the hand of
his contemporaries and pupils, who worked together in unfolding
the history of the Jews and the world's redemption. If it is impossible
to hint even at the names of these artists, the most hurried
traveller must notice the different character which marks the legend of the
New Testament from that of the Old, where the work of talented copyists
of classical works of art differ from that of others who kept nearer
to the style of Cimabue, instilling into it more or less life, as
their individual powers permitted. Herein lies much of the history of
early Italian art, but the few remaining frescoes, especially on the
left wall, have been so terribly over-painted that the work of the
critic is rendered well-nigh hopeless.
Beginning at the right wall by
the High Altar we have probably the work of a fine Byzantine master, or at
least of one who must have copied a Greek masterpiece. In the Creation of the
World, God, represented as a young man seated on a globe of fire, is, with
a gesture of his hand, casting upon the earth his last creation--man--who,
still suffused with celestial colour, is borne across the sea towards the
land. A ram, a bull and a lion besport themselves upon the shore, enormous
birds sit on the bushes, and the sea is already full of every kind of fish;
slender pink clouds are in the sky, and the distant hills on the horizon have
faded into shades of blue-green, like the landscape of an Umbrian
picture.
The nude figures of Adam and Eve in the Expulsion from Paradise
are wonderfully good for the time, and the manner in which the angels
are kicking them out of the garden of Eden is somewhat
unusual.
Beginning again at the first bay window but on the lower row
of frescoes, in the Building of the Ark Noah is seated, an
obelisk-shaped rock rising behind him, and gives his directions with a
majestic air to his sons as to the sawing and placing of the great beams. A
man, standing by his side, completes the composition, which has
much dignity and finish.
The fresco of the Sacrifice of Isaac, with
Abraham raising his sword above him his body slightly thrown back, is perhaps
one of the most striking of the series. The wind has caught his yellow robe,
which unfurls itself against a landscape of sandy hills.
All that
remains of the next are three angels, whose grandeur can only be compared to
those of Cimabue in the south transept. The remaining subjects on this side
are by a different master, who followed closely the best classical
traditions, and succeeds in giving extraordinary repose to his compositions
as well as meaning to the various figures.
In Jacob before Isaac, Isaac
is waiting for his dish of venison, and Jacob's attitude denotes uncertainty
as to the reception he is likely to receive, while his mother, lifting the
curtain of her husband's bed, seems to encourage her son.
The next
fresco is similar in composition, but better preserved. Here we feel the
blindness of Isaac, the perplexity of Esau, who cannot understand why his
father refuses to bless him, and the fear of Rebecca, who has stepped back,
knowing that her fraud must now be discovered. In this composition the artist
has strictly kept to rules laid down by his predecessors, and the result, if
a little stiff and wanting in originality, is yet pleasing and restful to
look at, presenting a great contrast to the somewhat exaggerated
movements expressed in the preceding ones.
The last of the series is
the steward finding the cup in Benjamin's sack, though greatly ruined it
still shows much beauty of composition.
Upon the opposite wall, by the
altar, is depicted the life of Christ by followers of Cimabue, but the few
frescoes that remain are so mutilated and repainted, that it is impossible to
say much about them, or even to imagine what they may once have
been.
"In the Capture," writes Messrs Crowe and Cavacaselle, "the Saviour
is of a superior size to the rest of those around him, and of a stern
but serene bearing. Trivial conception marks the scene of the
Saviour carrying the Cross."
The Pieta, one of the last, is evidently
by a finer scholar of Cimabue, and the woman coming round the rocks resembles
slightly the figure of Rebecca in the two frescoes on the opposite side.
"The composition," write the same authors, "is more like that which
Giotto afterwards conceived than any other before or since"; but the
colossal figure of Christ destroys the harmony of the scene.
The arch
at the end of the nave is painted to represent a series of niches, in each of
which stands the figure of a saint, all are much repainted, as are the
medallions of St. Peter and St. Paul by the door. The Descent of the Holy
Spirit is greatly ruined, and in the Ascension the _intonaco_ has peeled off,
showing the bricks, so that the apostles have the appearance of looking over
a wall.
The ceiling is frescoed in three different places by other
masters, whose names have not come down to us. Between the transepts and
nave the four Evangelists, seated outside the gates of towns, are
so utterly ruined and blackened by time and damp that it is barely
worth craning one's neck to look at them.[71] But the four medallions
of Christ, the Madonna, St. John the Baptist and St. Francis,
which ornament the centre of the nave, are among the most beautiful
things in the church, and quite perfect as decoration. At each corner of
the spandrels stands an angel upon a globe, with wings uplifted,
delicate in outline and brilliantly coloured, while the whole is bordered
by the most exquisite design of blossoms and green foliage rising out
of slender vases, which mingle with cupids, angels, winged horses
and rabbits on a dull red ground. It must have been painted by one who
had learned his art from the same source whence the decorative painters
of Pompeii drew their inspiration.
It is not an easy thing to fit
entire figures seated on large marble thrones into triangular spaces, and so
the artist found, who in the groined ceiling nearest the door had to paint
the Doctors of the Church, Sts. Jerome, Gregory, Ambrose and Augustin,
dictating their epistles to busy clerks. But there is much that is charming
in them, though as decoration they partly fail, and a resemblance may be
found to the frescoes of Isaac and his sons, which seem to have
influenced Giotto in his paintings of old men.
Vasari's enthusiasm was
roused when he looked upon these endless paintings, and he tells us that:
"This work, truly grand and rich, and admirably well executed, must, I
conceive, in those times have astonished the world, the more so that painting
had for so long been sunk in such obscurity: and to me, who saw it once more
in 1563, it appeared most beautiful, as I thought how Cimabue, in such
darkness could have discovered so much light."
* *
* * *
It would be well, before leaving, to look at the
windows of the Upper Church, which are among the oldest in Italy, and,
according to Herr Burckhardt, the most beautiful. As of most things connected
with San Francesco, little is known about them; Vasari says they were
designed by the painters of the frescoes; an opinion partly held by Herr
Thode, who sees a great resemblance to the style of Cimabue in the
right-hand window of the choir (the centre one is modern) with scenes from
the lives of Abraham, David and Christ, of most beautiful colour
and design. The left window, belonging to the same period, contains
naive scenes from the Old Testament, amongst which (the sixth from the
top of the left half) is Jonah emerging from a blue-green whale the
colour of the waves, and possessed of large white eyes.
Those of the
transepts of the same date are even finer and more beautifully coloured.
Medallions of geometrical patterns of exquisite design and hue ornament the
left-hand window of the north transept, while that on the right contains
scenes from the Old Testament and the life of Christ; in both of these,
according to Herr Thode, the influence of Cimabue is apparent.
The
left window of the south transept contains seven scenes from the Creation and
seven from the lives of Adam and Eve, who (in the last two divisions of the
right half) are being driven out of Eden, and, spade in hand, are working at
the foot of a tree. The eight saints of the right window, seated majestically
on gothic thrones ornamented with spires, and dressed in rose-coloured, red
and green garments, have certainly the appearance of being, as Herr Thode
suggests, of a style even anterior to Cimabue.
Half of the bay window
on the left, looking towards the altar, is the work of the Umbrian school of
the time of Fiorenzo di Lorenzo (there is a Madonna in a blue mantle, and St.
Onofrio clothed in vine-leaves), while the left half, with medallions
composed of very small pieces of glass representing scenes from the early
life of Christ, are perhaps the most beautiful, and certainly the oldest,
in the church, and can even be compared to the stained glass of
French cathedrals. The third window (the second has suffered
considerably, and what is left of the original belongs to the fifteenth
century) has been a good deal restored, but the large angels with blue and
purple wings standing in an arch, behind which a little town is seen,
are very fine, and below them is a curious small figure of St.
Francis floating in front of a colossal Christ, belonging also to
the fifteenth century.
Very beautiful are the two saints beneath
gothic arches in the last window, and the priests in their rose-coloured
stoles, the bishops in crimson and gold, and the other figures of warriors
and saints.
The right half of the bay window near the door upon the
opposite side, belonging also to the Umbrian school, contains some
charming scenes from the life of St. Anthony, while on the left are
incidents of the life of St. Francis. The whole is remarkable for delicate
rose colours, greens and pale blues, and a total absence of the strong
deep tones of the older and finer windows; but they are very beautiful
of their kind, like patches of pale sunshine in the church.
The next
two windows betray a more ancient style in the fine figures of the apostles
(their heads, alas, are modern), and in the scenes from their lives, which
are of a deeper tone than the former one; but even more beautiful is the last
window, which does not seem to have been restored within the last three
centuries, and where the colours standing out from a creamy background are
very lovely. The two large and grand figures of two apostles are believed by
Herr Thode to be from drawings by Cimabue. |
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