The Story of Assisi 6

	The Story of Assisi 6

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.