Both Francesco di Terranuova and Valentino da Udine were employed
to repair all the windows about 1476, large sums being
expended, principally by the Popes who never ceased to patronise the
franciscan Basilica. A most comical appearance is given by the
distressing additions made in our own time of modern heads upon bodies of
the thirteenth or fourteenth century. Until very lately an exquisite
rose window was to be seen over the eastern door, now replaced by
white glass; one would like to know how it so mysteriously disappeared
and where it now is.
No pains had been spared to make San Francesco as
lovely in every detail as the brain of man could devise, and it is most
remarkable how the frescoes belong to the general idea of the building as
though every artist had thought as much of this unity as of the
individual perfection of his work. The beautiful papal throne in the choir,
of white marble encrusted in mosaic with its frieze of strange animals in
low relief, its arms supported by red marble lions, is almost a replica of
the Soldan's throne in Giotto's fresco, and was designed by Fuccio Fiorentino
in 1347, when the architecture that Giotto delighted in was still the
recognised style in Italy.[72] The marble and mosaic altar is of the same
date, and the octagonal pulpit of sculptured stone, with saints in small
tabernacles, spiral columns and designs of leaves slightly tinted, supposed
also to be by Fuccio, is placed at the corner of the wall of the nave looking
as if it had grown there. The columns supporting the arched gallery round the
church have each been painted to represent mauve and rose-coloured marbles,
and there is not a single space in all the building which has not been
decorated to harmonise with the frescoes, giving a perfect sense of
infinite completeness and beauty, to which time has added by
mellowing everything into a pale orange colour--the colour of
Assisi.
FOOTNOTES:
[68] It is difficult to say how free a hand the
artists were allowed when called in to execute work for any church, but
probably, in the case of San Francesco, they were obliged to illustrate
precisely the scenes and events chosen by the friars, who in the case of the
saint's legend would be very severe judges, requiring quite the best that
the artist could produce.
[69] Later documents of the convent speak of
a crucifix painted in 1236 by Giunta Pisano with a portrait of Brother Elias
"taken from life" and the following inscription:
Frater Elias
fieri fecit Jesu Christe pie Misere pecantis Helie
Giunta Pisanus me pinxit. A.D.M. MCCXXXVI.
It hung from a beam in the
Upper Church until 1624 when it suddenly disappeared, and it seems to have
inspired Padre Angeli (author of the "Collis Paradisi") with the theory that
Giunta Pisano was the first to paint in San Francesco, ascribing to him, as
some have continued to do, the frescoes in the choir and transept of the
Upper Church. Messrs Crowe and Cavacaselle say, on what authority it is
impossible to discover, that the middle aisle of the Lower Church "seems to
have been painted between 1225 and 1250," ignoring the fact that
Pope Gregory only laid the foundation stone of the Basilica in
1228. Without trying to find such early dates for the history of art
at Assisi, it appears to us quite wonderful enough that some fifty
or sixty years after the ceremony of the consecration in 1253, Cimabue and
his contemporaries--Giotto and his Tuscan followers--had completed their work
in both churches.
[70] _Right_ transept is always synonymous with _South_
transept, but in this case, as San Francesco is built with the altar facing
to the west because it was necessary to have the entrance away from
the precipitous side of the hill, the _Right_ transept looks to
the _North_, the _Left_ to the _South_, and we have thought it easier
to keep to the actual position of the church in describing the
different frescoes. Herr Thode in his book has done this, but it may be well
to observe that Messrs Crowe and Cavacaselle refer to the transepts
and chapels as if they faced the parts of the compass in the usual
way.
[71] To facilitate seeing the paintings of the ceiling, both here
and in the Lower Church, it would be well to use a hand-glass, a
simple and most effectual addition to the comfort of the
traveller.
[72] Mr Ruskin says that the gable of the bishop's throne is
"of the exact period when the mosaic workers of the thirteenth century at
Rome adopted rudely the masonry of the north. Briefly this is a
Greek temple pediment, in which, doubtful of their power to carve
figures beautiful enough, they cut a trefoiled hold for ornament, and
bordered the edge with a harlequinade of mosaic. They then call to their
aid the Greek sea waves, and let the surf of the Ægean climb along
the slopes, and toss itself at the top into a
fleur-de-lys."
CHAPTER VI
_The Paintings of Giotto and
his School in the Lower Church_
"... Cimabue thought
To lord it over painting's field; and now The cry is Giotto's, and his
name eclipsed." DANTE, _Purgatory_, xi., Cary's
translation.
The work of Cimabue, grand and noble as it is, yet gives
the impression of belonging to remote times, between which and that
of Giotto, his pupil, a great gulf is set. In both churches at Assisi
we pass from the early efforts of an awakening age to the work of
one, who, if not the first to see the light, was the first to discover
the true principles of art, to give it life, and to found a school
whence a long series of painters came to carry on for generations the
lessons he had taught. Cimabue did wonders for the century in which he
lived; of Giotto, even granting that his drawing was sometimes faulty,
and the types of faces he painted were not always beautiful, it would
be an insult to express such condescending praise; and even a hasty
study of his frescoes in San Francesco must soon explain the
everlasting sway he holds, now, as in those first years when his work
seemed little short of miraculous to the wondering
Florentines.
[Illustration: PLAN OF THE LOWER CHURCH AND MONASTERY OF
SAN FRANCESCO AT ASSISI]
Some fourteen miles to the north of
Florence, among the hills of the Mugello, lies the scattered hamlet of
Vespignano where Giotto Bondone was born of a poor peasant family in the year
1265. Even at an early age, Vasari says, the boy was remarkable for the
vivacity and quick intelligence which endeared him not only to his parents,
but to all who knew him in the village and country round. He passed
his childhood among them, knowing nothing of the city just across
the hills, but learning much, during the long days while he wandered
forth to tend his father's sheep, which was helpful to him in after years
to preserve his straightforward outlook upon life and the strength
and freshness of a nature that loved the sunburnt valleys and the
freedom of the shepherd's existence.
When Giotto was ten years old it
happened that Cimabue, on his way from Florence to Vespignano upon a matter
of business, found him seated by the roadside, his flock gathered near,
busily employed in drawing the outline of a sheep from life upon a smooth
piece of rock. Struck by the boy's industry in the pursuit of art and his
evident cleverness, Cimabue hastened to obtain the father's consent to
adopt and make an artist of him. Leaving the old life in the
peasant's cottage for ever, Giotto now turned south along new roads, and
with Cimabue by his side, saw for the first time the city of
Florence, beautiful as she lay upon the banks of the Arno in a setting of
wooded hills.
The progress he made under Cimabue's guidance, who
taught him all he knew, was marvellous indeed. At ten years of age a shepherd
tracing idle fancies on the stones, then for a few years an apprentice in
a Florentine workshop grinding colours with the others for his
master's big Madonnas; while ten years later he had already gained the title
of Master and was a famous painter, courted by popes and kings,
and leaving masterpieces upon the walls of churches throughout Italy, that
people of all times and countries have come and paused awhile
to see.
Let us suppose it was the air of Florence, which, according to
Vasari, "generates a desire for glory and honour and gives a natural
quickness to the perceptions of men," that made Giotto a perfect
Florentine, alert, witty, and ever ready with a caustic repartee to anyone
who bandied words with him. But though other influences were at
work around him, and new images crowded upon his active brain, he
kept undimmed the vision of his mountain valley, of the fields, of the
days spent in his native village, and, with the eyes of a shepherd
he continued to look on all the incidents of human life; he saw
the grandeur, the tragedy, the weaknesses, aye, and the humour too,
in everything that surrounded him, setting it all down in his frescoes
in his own simple and original way. In a few words Mr Ruskin has
touched upon the keynotes of Giotto's character when he says: ... "his
mind was one of the most healthy, kind and active that ever informed
a human frame. His love of beauty was entirely free from weakness;
his love of truth untinged by severity; his industry constant
without impatience; his workmanship accurate without formalism; his
temper serene and yet playful; his imagination exhaustive
without extravagance; and his faith firm without superstition. I do not
know, in the annals of art, such another example of happy,
practical, unerring, and benevolent power."
Such was the man who came
to Assisi to take up the work left uncompleted by Cimabue and his
contemporaries. Giotto was then almost unknown, not having executed any of
those great works upon which his fame now rests, and it is not unlikely that
the recommendation by Cimabue of his promising pupil to the friars of San
Francesco led to his being called there when barely twenty years of age.[73]
Opinions differ as to which were his first works and whether he began in
the Lower or in the Upper Church, and as there are absolutely no
documents relating to the subject, and Vasari is of no help in the matter
of dates or precise details, the only way to come to any conclusion is
to group these frescoes according to their style. We do not wish to
force any arbitrary opinions on this matter, and have simply placed
Giotto's work in the order that it seems to us more likely to have
been executed. Those who disagree have only to transpose the chapters
as they think fit. The chief thing is to enjoy the frescoes and
speculate as little as possible on all the contradictory volumes written
about them.
_Right Transept._--According to Messrs. Crowe and
Cavalcaselle these frescoes are by Giotto, and Mr Bernhard Berenson is of the
opinion that they belong to his early period, and were executed by him
before the franciscans knew what his powers were, and whether they
could entrust to him the more difficult task of illustrating the legend
of St. Francis. The subjects are taken from the early life of Christ which
had been depicted many times in preceding centuries, but although Giotto
attempted no very elaborate or original manner of treatment, his style was
rapidly developing, and we have in some of the scenes little traits of nature
which only belong to him. On the outside of the Chapel del Sacramento, over
the arch, he painted the Annunciation with such charm, dignity and harmony of
outline that it would be difficult to find a more perfect conception of
religious feeling even among the pictures of Angelico. Unfortunately it can
only be seen in the early afternoon when the light comes in through
the windows of S. Giovanni; the Madonna rising with queenly grace and
the angel hastening forward with his message then stand out from
their dark background like living people, and show how, from the
first, Giotto attained the power of giving vitality to his figures.
His Madonna is not like a graven image to be worshipped from afar; she
is essentially the earthly mother of the Saviour, and Giotto,
while treating her story with dignity and a certain sense of
remoteness, tells it by the simplest means, endowing her with the
maternal tenderness of a young peasant girl whom we meet upon the
roads carrying her child to lay beneath the shadow of a tree while she
goes to her work in the fields close by.
[Illustration: CHOIR AND
TRANSEPTS OF THE LOWER CHURCH]
The Visitation (on the same wall as
Cimabue's Madonna) is one of those frescoes that we remember like a scene we
have witnessed, so naturally does the Virgin move forward, followed by a
group of handmaidens, and hold out her arms to greet Elizabeth who is bending
with such reverence to salute her cousin. They stand at the entrance of a
dainty house inlaid with mosaic which is set among the bare rocks with only
a stunted tree here and there. But Giotto does not forget to place
a flowering plant in the balcony just as the peasants have always done in
his mountain home.
It is interesting to compare the next fresco of the
Nativity with the same subject in the Upper Church, treated by a follower of
Cimabue where the same idea is depicted, but with what a difference.
Though two episodes are placed in one picture, Giotto succeeds in giving
a harmonious composition, which, if a little stiff and over
symmetrical, is full of charm and beauty. The angels singing to the new-born
Infant and those apprising the shepherds of the news hover like a flight
of birds above the barn. They are in truth the winged spirits of the
air, "birds of God" Dante calls them, and thus Giotto paints them.
As though to accentuate the sadness and poverty of Christ's
birthplace, the barn, all open and exposed to the night breezes, is laid in
a lonely landscape with a high rock rising behind it. Beyond in
the valley, a leafless tree grows upon the bank of a calm stream where
the heavenly light from the angels is seen to play like moonbeams in
its waters.
Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle hold that the Visit of the
Magi was "never painted with more feeling, more naturally or
beautifully composed than here"; and Giotto must have felt he could add
little to the perfection of the scene when in later years he painted the
same subject at Padua. All interest is centred on the Child, who,
bending forward from the Virgin's arms, lays a tiny hand in blessing upon
the head of the aged king. Curiously enough St. Joseph has been
forgotten, and instead an angel stands upon either side to receive the
offerings of the Magi.
But to us the Purification seems even more
beautiful in sentiment, composition and the perfection of religious feeling.
Giotto was the first to conceive the idea of the Infant Jesus turning from
Simeon towards the Virgin Mary as if anxious to come back to her, while
she holds out her arms to invite him with a naive attitude of
gentle motherhood.
From charming frescoes like these we come to the
grand and powerful scene of the Crucifixion. Every figure tells a different
tale of sorrow; of tender pity, as in the group of women round the
fainting Virgin; of wonder that Christ should be allowed to suffer, as in
the gesture of the woman with arms thrown back and St. John who wrings
his hands almost fiercely; of sympathy expressed by the Magdalene, as
she kisses the pierced feet; and of hope and prayer, in the
kneeling figures of St. Francis and his brethren. Even more vehement in
their grief are the angels, who rending their garments fly away with
arms stretched out as if unable to bear the sight of so much pain.
How rapidly they turn and circle in the air; they are not borne along
by the winds, but trusting to their wings they rise with the swift,
sure flight of a swallow.[74]
Upon the opposite wall the early life of
the Virgin is continued with the Flight into Egypt, which bears a strong
resemblance to the fresco at Padua. There is the same sense that St. Joseph,
his bundle slung on a stick over his shoulder like a pilgrim, is really
walking along and in a moment must disappear from sight; a palm tree bends
sideways to the breeze, and above two angels seem to cleave the air as
they hurriedly lead on the travellers to exile and safety. Only the
Virgin sits calm and unruffled. In the Massacre of the Innocents Giotto
has happily not painted the full horror of the scene, but has aimed
rather at suggesting the tragedy than at giving its actual
representation. Very beautiful are the women to the left mourning for their
dead children. One rocks her child in her arms and tries to awaken him
with her kisses, whilst another raises her hands in despair as she
gazes upon the dead child upon her knees.
The Return of the Holy
Family from Egypt, though only showing a group of houses within surrounding
walls and a gateway and a group of people, suggests better than a more
complicated composition would have done the scene of a home-coming after long
absence.
The Preaching of the Child in the Temple completes the series,
and like the one at Padua, it is the least interesting of
Giotto's paintings.
There are three other frescoes in the Transept
which most people, with reason, attribute to Giotto, representing miracles of
St. Francis. The first refers to a child of the Spini family of Florence who
fell from a tower of the Palazzo Spini (now Feroni), and was being
carried to the grave, when the intercession of St. Francis was invoked and
he appeared among them to restore the child to life. Part of the
fresco has been lost owing to the ruthless way in which the walls were
cut into for the purpose of erecting an organ--a barbarous act
difficult to understand. But the principal group of people are seen outside
an exquisite basilica of marble and mosaic, and each figure can be studied
with pleasure as they have not been mutilated by the "restorer's" usual
layers of thick paint. Seldom has Giotto painted lovelier women than those
kneeling in the foreground, their profiles of delicate and pure outline
recalling a border of white flowers. Near them is a figure bearing so strong
a resemblance to Dante, that we would fain believe that Giotto meant to
represent the type of a true Florentine in a portrait of the poet. Above the
staircase is a fine picture of St. Francis resting his hand upon the shoulder
of a crowned skeleton "in which," says Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, "a
much deeper study of anatomy is revealed than has ever been conceded
to Giotto." The oval face of the saint, with clear brown colouring,
is very beautiful, strongly resembling the St. Francis in glory in
the fresco above the high altar. By him also is the half-length figure
of Christ in the vaulting of the window.
Although the two remaining
frescoes deal with the death and resurrection of a child, they probably have
nothing to do with the Spini miracle; the one where the dead child is lying
in the arms of two men has unfortunately been so repainted as to take all
character away from the faces, and we can only admire the general grouping,
the fine gestures of the weeping women, and the grand modelling of
the figures. Only a great artist could make one feel, by such
simple means, the strain of the dead weight upon the men's arms. The man
to the left (the second from the one holding his finger to his chin)
is believed to be the portrait of Giotto; if it is, the painter has
not flattered himself, and we can believe Dante's tale that he
was remarkably ugly, and had six hideous children. On the other side
of the arch the legend continues; a procession of white-robed monks
and sorrowing friends approach the house to which the child has
been taken, but in the meantime St. Francis has called him back to
life, and a man, evidently in great excitement over the miracle, is
hurrying down the steps to announce what has occurred. The story is so well
and simply told that, although we have failed to find any account of
it, it is easy to understand the sequence of the two frescoes, and
the events they relate.
_Allegories by Giotto in the ceiling over the
High Altar._--The task was now given to Giotto to depict by the medium of
allegory the three virtues of the franciscan order and St. Francis in glory.
These virtues, the rocks upon which the franciscan order was so
securely founded, had been preached by St. Francis to the people of Italy
with the extraordinary results we have seen, and now Giotto came to take
up the theme and, by means of his immortal art, perpetuate it as long
as the great basilica lasts, and pilgrims come to pray and read upon
the walls, in a language even the unlettered can understand, the
lessons taught by the Umbrian preacher seven centuries ago. Apart from
the fact of his genius, it was a fortunate thing that he should have
been chosen for the task. A man of weaker and more
impressionable temperament might have been led into such exaggerations of
feeling and sentiment as we find in the Lorenzetti frescoes of the
transept. Giotto came not many years after the Flagellants, roaming in
hordes through the land calling for mercy and beating their half-naked
bodies with leathern thongs, had spread a spirit of fanaticism
which threatened to destroy the healthy influence of the teaching of
St. Francis. But the mountain-born painter, impervious to such
influences, kept his faith pure amidst the turmoil and unrest; and much as
he admired the saint (it is said he belonged to the Third order),
he looked upon his teaching from the practical point of view and was by no
means carried away by the poetical manner in which it had been presented to
the people. Nothing shows the mind and character of Giotto so plainly as some
lines he wrote on poverty, most likely after painting his famous Allegories
when he had an opportunity to observe how little the manners and customs of
mediæval monks corresponded with the spirit of their founder. Every line of
the poem is full of common sense and knowledge of human frailty. Many, Giotto
remarks somewhat sarcastically, praise poverty; but he does not himself
recommend it as virtue is seldom co-existent with extremes; and voluntary
poverty, upon which he touches in a few caustic lines, is the cause of
many ills, and rarely brings peace to those who have chosen her as a
mate and who too often study how to avoid her company; thus it happens
that under the false mantle of the gentlest of lambs appears the
fiercest wolf, and by such hypocrisy is the world
corrupted.[75]
[Illustration: THE MARRIAGE OF ST. FRANCIS WITH
POVERTY (D. ANDERSON--_photo_)]
Giotto, an artist before he was a
moralist, undertook to carry out the wishes of his patrons, and thought only
how he could best fill the triangular spaces of the ceiling with the figures
of saints and angels. It was by no means an easy task, but Giotto succeeded
so well that these four frescoes are reckoned among his masterpieces
and the wonders of the thirteenth century. They certainly show a
marked advance upon the earlier works in the Transept, but they lack
the power and assurance of those in the Upper Church, where the
youthful painter all but reached the zenith of his fame.
_The Marriage
of St. Francis and Poverty._[76]--In this fresco Giotto has represented three
incidents, but just as they all refer to one subject, so do the figures form
a perfect harmony, faultless as decoration and beautiful as a picture. A
youth, imitating the charity of St. Francis to whom his guardian angel is
pointing, is seen on the left giving his cloak to a beggar, while upon the
other side, a miser clutching his money-bag and a youth with a falcon on his
gloved hand refuse to listen to the good suggestions of an angel and of the
friar who stands between them. The lines of decoration are further
carried out by the two angels who fly up carrying a temple with an
enclosed garden, perhaps symbolising Charity, and a franciscan habit, which
may be the symbol of Obedience. But these are details and the eye does
not rest upon them, but rather is carried straight into the midst of
a court of attendant angels where Christ, standing upon a rock, gives the
hand of St. Francis to the Lady Poverty, who slightly draws away as if in
warning of the hardships and disillusions in store for him who links his life
with hers. Cold and white, her garments torn by a network of accacia thorns,
she is indeed the true widow of Christ, who, after His death as Dante
says,
"... slighted and obscure Thousand and
hundred years and more, remain'd Without a single suitor, till he
came."[77]
The bridesmaids, Hope pointing to the sky, and Charity holding
a heart and crowned with flowers that start into tiny flames, come
floating out of the choir of angels towards the pale bride whose veil
is bounded only by her hair. Heedless of the children of earth,
who encouraged by the barking of a dog, press the thorns still deeper
into her flesh, she gazes at St. Francis, and shows him the pink and
white roses of paradise and the Madonna lilies which are flowering
behind her wings.
_Chastity._--The different stages of perfection in
the religious life are portrayed in this allegory. To the left St. Francis
welcomes three aspirants to the order--Bernard of Quintavalle--typifying
the franciscans; St. Clare--the Second Order; and one, who is said to
be the poet Dante, in the near foreground in a florentine dress of
the period--the Third Order. Two angels in the central group impose
hands and pour the purifying water upon the head of a youth standing
naked in a font, and two other angels bend forward with the
franciscan habits in their hands, while leaning over the wall of the fortress
are two figures, one presenting the banner of purity the other the
shield of fortitude to the novice. On either side stands a
grey-bearded, mail-clad warrior, lash and shield in hand to denote the
perpetual warfare and self-mortification of those who follow St. Francis. To
the right three youthful warrior-monks, beautiful of feature, bearing
the signs of the Passion in their hands, aided by one in the garb of
a Penitent with angels' wings, are chasing away the tempting spirits
of the flesh from the rocks about the fortress into the abyss below.
The winged boar falls backwards, followed by a demon and a winged
skeleton emblematic of the perpetual death of the wicked, while
poor blindfolded Love writhes beneath the lash of Penitence. But just as
he is about to spring down with the rest, his string of human hearts still
slung across his shoulders, he snatches up a sprig of roses from the
rocks.
Above, out of a walled enclosure guarded at each end by towers
like every mediæval castle on the hills about Italian towns, rises
a crenulated fortress. At the open window of the magnificent central tower
is seen Chastity, veiled and in prayer as if unconscious of the scene below,
her vigilance typified by the bell o'erhead. She appears to be reading, by
the light of a taper, from the open book held before her by an angel, while
another is bringing her the palm of sanctity. They are no longer Giotto's
bird-like creations, but stately messengers with splendid human forms
uplifted by outstretched wings their garments brought into long curved lines
by the rapidity of their flight.
_Obedience._--Under an open _loggia_
sits the winged figure of Obedience in the habit of a franciscan, holding his
finger to his lips as he places a wooden yoke (symbol of obedience) upon the
neck of a kneeling friar. Prudence, with double face, holding a glass mirror
and a compass, and Humility, with her lighted taper to illumine the
path to paradise, are seated on either side, perhaps to show that he
who imposes obedience upon others must be prudent and humble himself.
An angel upon the right is pointing these virtues out to a
centaur (symbolizing pride, envy and avarice), who, thrown back upon
his haunches by a ray of light from the mirror of Prudence, is
thus stopped from tempting away the young novice kneeling on the
opposite side, encouraged in his act of renunciation by the angel who holds
him firmly by the wrist. Two divine hands appear from the clouds above
and are holding St. Francis by his yoke, while two angels unroll the
rules of his order.
_The Glory of St. Francis._--The throng of
fair-haired angels, seem, as they move towards the throne of the saint and
press around it, to be intoning a hymn of perpetual praise and jubilation.
Their figures, against the dull gold background, are seen white and strong,
with here and there a touch of mauve or pale blue in their garments bringing
out more distinctly the feeling of light and joyousness. The
perpetual movement of the heavenly choir, some blowing long trumpets,
others playing on flutes and tambourines, while many gaze upwards in
silent prayer as they float upon the clouds, contrasts strangely with
the stiff and silent figure of St. Francis, who in his robe of gold
and black brocade, a brilliant light behind him, looks like
some marvellous eastern deity, recalling Dante's words of how
he
"... arose A sun upon the world, as
duly this From Ganges doth: ..."
In the dimness of the cave-like
church built to serve the purpose of a tomb and keep men's ideas familiar
with the thought of death, these frescoes are glimpses into the heaven of the
blest. Watch them at all hours of the day and there will be some new wonder
to be noted, a face among the crowd which seems fairer than the rest, or, as
the sunshine moves across, a flash of colours in an angel's wing like the
sudden coming of a rainbow in a cloudy sky. And who shall forget the
strange play of fancy as the candle light, during an afternoon
service, mingles with the strong sunshine upon the white figures of saints
and the whiter figure of the Lady Poverty, who appear to move towards
us from amidst a blaze of golden clouds, until gradually as the
evening closes in and the candles go out one by one, they are set once more
in the shadow of their backgrounds like so many images of snow.
_La
Capella del Sacramento, or the Chapel of St. Nicholas._--Giotto left one
scholar at Assisi whose work it is easy to discover, but who, as far as name
and personality are concerned, is unknown, and shares in the general mystery
which surrounds both the builders and painters of San Francesco. All we know
is that he followed his master's style and great laws of composition even
more closely than Taddeo Gaddi, and that he possessed much charm and
originality. By the kind help of Mr Bernhard Berenson we have been able to
group together some of the works of this interesting artist, who was
evidently working at Assisi between 1300 and 1310 when he executed the last
nine frescoes of the Upper Church illustrating the death and the miracles of
St. Francis, decorated the Capella del Sacramento in the Lower Church with
the legend of St. Nicholas, and painted a fine Crucifixion in
the Confraternity of San Rufinuccio (see chap. x). There is a
very delightful panel picture also by him in the corridor of the
Uffizzi (No. 20 in the corridor), with eight small scenes from the life of
St. Cecilia.
In a fresco over the arch on the inside of the Capella
del Sacramento are portraits of the donors of the chapel, Cardinal Napoleone
Orsini, who is being presented to Christ by St. Francis, and his
younger brother Giovanni (below him is written Dns Jons Gaetanus frater
ejus), presented by St. Nicholas. It helps to date the decoration of
the chapel, for we know that Giovanni Orsini received the cardinal's
hat in 1316, while here he is represented in the white dress of a
deacon confirming the general opinion that these frescoes must have
been painted before that date.[78]
St. Nicholas of Myra, generally
known as St. Nicholas of Bari, both during his life and after his death was
forever coming to the assistance of the oppressed; he did not even object to
be the patron saint of drunkards and thieves, as well as of maiden virtue. He
can easily be recognised in art by the three purses or golden balls
which are always placed at his feet, in reference to the first kind
action he performed when a wealthy young noble. This incident is
charmingly recorded in the chapel upon the right wall near the entrance.
Three sleeping maidens are lying by their father's side, and St.
Nicholas, who has heard of their poverty, throws in three bags of gold as
he passes by the open window. This charitable deed has made him a
famous saint; when Dante is in Purgatory he hears the spirit of Hugh
Capet recounting various acts of virtuous poverty and generosity,
among which
"... it spake the gift Of
Nicholas, which on the maidens he Bounteous bestow'd, to save their
youthful prime Unblemish'd...."
Below (the picture immediately
beneath is entirely obliterated) is a very beautiful composition, recalling
the same artist's treatment of St. Clare and her nuns in the Upper Church. In
front of a Gothic chapel of white and black marble stands St. Nicholas,
between two placid and portly friars, listening to the petition of a
despairing father who implores his protection for his three sons,
unjustly condemned to death by a wicked consul. The figures of the
prisoners, with halters round their necks, followed by sympathising friends,
are full of movement and life; St. Nicholas is particularly
charming, dressed in his episcopal robes, slightly bending forward and
listening attentively to the doleful tale.[79]
The legend is continued
upon the opposite side, where he arrives just in time to save the youths. The
figure of the kneeling victim expecting the blow every moment to fall upon
his neck and the majestic attitude of the saint in the act of seizing the
sword, are finely rendered, but Giotto would hardly have approved of the
complicated building decked with much superfluous decoration which is
supposed to represent the city gate.
The fresco below relates a vision
of the Emperor Constantine who had ordered his three generals, unjustly
accused of treason, to be put to death. St. Nicholas appears and commands him
to release the prisoners, who are in a wooden cage by the bed.
High up
in the lunette of this wall is an interesting fresco referring to a humorous
incident of one of the saint's miracles. It appears that a Jew, hearing that
St. Nicholas gave special protection to property, placed a statue of him in
his house; but it must be remembered that St. Nicholas was also the patron of
thieves, and one day all the Jew's possessions disappeared. Enraged by the
failure of his plan he administered a sound thrashing to the statue, which
stands in a beautiful niche with spiral columns, behaving much in the same
way as the childish sons of faith in Southern Italy who turn the
Madonna's picture to the wall when their prayers have not been effectual.
In this case St. Nicholas was so deeply offended that he appeared in
a vision to the thieves, who kindly restored the goods of the irate
Jew. There are dim remains of frescoes on this wall, but it is
impossible to make out what they represent. Other wonderful miracles are
related upon the opposite side, beginning high up in the lunette, where,
with some difficulty, we distinguished St. Nicholas restoring a child
to life who has been taken from his parents and killed by evil
spirits. Below is a scene in a banqueting hall, where a king, seated at
table, takes a goblet of wine from the hand of a slave boy. St. Nicholas,
in full episcopals, performs one of his many ærial flights, lays his
hand upon the boy's head and carries him back to his parents. In the
scene beneath St. Nicholas is restoring to his people another youth, who,
it seems, was nearly drowned while filling a goblet with water for
the altar of St. Nicholas; or it may be the continuation of the
preceding legend, and show the home-coming of the captive boy from the
king's palace. It is one of the most charmingly rendered of the series;
the impetuous action of the mother rising with outstretched arms
to welcome her son, and the calm dignity of the father's embrace,
are almost worthy of Giotto himself. A small dog bounds forward to add
his welcome to the others, while St. Nicholas surveys the scene with
great gravity, every line of his figure denoting dignity, power and
repose.
On one side of the arched entrance to the chapel is a fresco of
St. Mary Magdalen, on the opposite side is St. John the Baptist, and
in the vaulting of the arch, on the right, are St. Anthony of Padua
with St. Francis; St. Albino with St. George; St. Agnes holding a
lamb, perhaps the most graceful of the figures, with St. Cecilia
crowned with roses. Opposite are St. Rufino and St. Nicholas holding a
book; St. Sabino and St. Vittorino, both Assisan martyrs; and St.
Claire with St. Catherine of Alexandria. But the quality of this artist
will be only half realised if the single figures of the apostles on
the walls below the scenes from the life of Nicholas are overlooked.
Very grave and reposeful they lend an air of great solemnity to the
chapel, and as Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle remark, they are "after those
of Giotto in the Ciborium of Rome, the most admirable that were
produced in the early times of the revival...."
It is as difficult to
explain why the Chapel of St. Nicholas possesses so much charm, as it is to
understand why people seldom spend more than sufficient time to read the few
lines in their guide-book about it and verify for themselves that the
frescoes are there; but perhaps when some fifty frescoes by Giotto have to be
realised in about an hour, which is the time usually devoted to them by the
visitor to Assisi, it is not surprising that Giotto's follower, the closest
and the best he ever had, should be neglected.
The stained glass
windows, remarkable rather for their harmony than for their depth of tone,
belong also to the early part of the fourteenth century, and are decorated
with the Orsini arms. On the left side of the central window is a charming
design of St. Francis in a rose-coloured mantle, recommending to Christ the
young Giovanni Gaetano Orsini, who is said to be buried in the chapel. His
monument behind the altar, erected soon after his death in 1347, is,
according to Vasari, the work of Agostino da Siena, a pupil of Giovanni
Pisano. Very calm and youthful-looking the Cardinal lies at full length
in long folded robes while two angels guard his slumbers.
There is yet
another treasure in St. Nicholas' Chapel; a lovely picture on panel of the
Virgin and saints (rather difficult to see as it is against the light over
the altar), by a Sienese artist who possesses some of Simone Martini's talent
of depicting ethereal and serene Madonnas.
_The Chapel of St. Maria
Maddalena._--According to a legend given by Padre Angeli the chapel was built
and consecrated by St. Bonaventure while General of the franciscan order
towards the end of the thirteenth century. The three frescoes on the left
wall certainly belong to Giotto's time, and if not actually painted by him
they appear to be from his designs, and not merely copies of the
Paduan frescoes which they resemble. Above the frescoes of the Raising
of Lazarus and the Anointing of Christ's feet is the Communion of
the Magdalen, rendered with such simplicity yet with so much
religious feeling and solemnity that we realise it is indeed the last
communion of the saint on earth. The attitude of the priest, the
splendid drapery of the man in orange-coloured garments, and the way in
which the figure of the saint being carried by angels to heaven
completes the composition, bear unmistakably the impress of Giotto's
style before the Paduan period (1206).
The "Noli mi Tangere" upon the
opposite wall may also have been designed by him, but the type of the faces
are heavier than his, and the angels are no longer swift spirits of the
heavens ending in flame and cloud.
The painter, as if wishing to
remind the faithful of the new life symbolised in the resurrection of Christ,
has covered the rocks and ground with flowering rosebushes and exquisitely
designed tufts of ferns and leaves.
The story of the Prince and
Princess of Marseilles is a favourite subject with the Giottesque school. The
legend tells that when Mary Magdalen arrived at Marseilles with Lazarus and
Martha, she met a prince and his wife who were praying to the gods for a son,
and she persuaded them to pray instead to the God of the Christians.
Their desire was granted, and they were converted, but evidently being of
a cautious turn of mind, they resolved to sail at once for Jerusalem
and find out if St. Peter's teaching agreed with that of the Magdalen.
On the way a terrible storm arose, and during the tempest the
princess gave birth to a son, and died. The sailors insisted that her body
must be thrown overboard or the storm, they said, would not abate; at
last the prince was forced to lay the body of his wife upon a rocky
island in the midst of the ocean, and calling upon Mary Magdalen for help,
he left the child wrapt in the cloak of its dead mother by her side
and continued the journey to the Holy Land. His visit to St. Peter
ended in his complete conversion, and upon his return to France he
stopped at the rocky island where he found his wife and son alive and
well, thanks to the prayers of St. Mary Magdalen. They returned
to Marseilles, the vessel being guided by angels, and the whole
town became Christian.
Above the arch facing the altar is a very
charming fresco of the Magdalen standing at the entrance of a cave, her hair
falling like a mantle of cloth of gold about her, to receive the gift of a
garment from a charitable hermit who had heard of her life of austerity
and privation among the mountains of Provence.
The single figures of
St. Clare, St. Mary Magdalen and St. Rufino, as well as the saints in the
vaulting opposite the altar, no longer follow Giotto's designs and are far
inferior to the other frescoes. Teobaldo Pontano, Bishop of Assisi between
1314 and 1329, is supposed to be the kneeling figure at the feet of St.
Rufino as donor of the chapel. It is so unlikely Giotto should have repeated
his later Paduan designs in a feebler manner, as seen here, or that a pupil
should have slavishly copied them, that it seems more probable the
chapel dates from the time of St. Bonaventure, when its decoration may
have been begun by Giotto and completed by some later Florentine
follower called in by the bishop who desired to be buried here. The
Pontano arms decorate the beautiful stained glass windows, which
certainly date from the first half of the fourteenth century, and are the
finest in the Lower Church with the exception of those in St.
Martin's chapel. Each figure has a claim on our admiration, but
especially lovely is the figure of the Magdalen whose hair falls to her feet
in heavy waves of deepest gold. In the last division of the right
window is the death of the saint, with the lions at her feet which
are supposed to have dug her grave.
_The Chapel of St. Antonio di
Padova._--Built by the Assisan family of Lelli in the fourteenth century, it
was once ornamented by Florentine frescoes of the same date which were
destroyed when the roof fell in, and it has now nothing of interest save the
windows. These contain some naive scenes from the life of St. Anthony; among
them may be noticed his preaching to the fish which raise their heads above
the water to listen.
_Chapel of San Stefano._--This like the last, has
only very decadent frescoes by Adone Doni and is solely interesting for its
windows (second half of fourteenth century), where below the symbols of
the Evangelists are single figures of saints, among them King Louis
and the royal Bishop of Toulouse. Cardinal Gentile di Montefiore,
founder of the chapel of S. Martino, was also the donor of this one and
is represented in the right window with his crest, a tree growing out of a
blue mound against an orange background.
_The Chapel of St. Catherine, or
Capella del Crocifisso._--This chapel was built by order of Cardinal Albornoz
towards the end of the fourteenth century when on his passage through Umbria
to reconquer the rebellious cities for the Roman Pontiff. He conceived at
Assisi so great a love for the memory of St. Francis that he desired to
be buried there; but though his body was brought to Assisi from
Viterbo where he died in 1367, it was afterwards carried to his bishopric
at Toledo "at small expense," writes an economical chronicler, "upon men's
shoulders"; only a cardinal's hat, suspended from the roof of the chapel, now
remains to remind us of the warlike Spanish prelate. The frescoes here have
been assigned to that mythical person Buffalmaco, of whom Vasari relates such
humorous tales. All we can say is that they belong to the second half of the
fourteenth century and are not very pleasing scenes from the life and
martyrdom of St. Catherine of Alexandria, with a fresco of Cardinal Albornoz
receiving consecration from a pope under the auspices of St. Francis.
The windows are the first things to shine out amidst the gloom as
one enters the Lower Church. Especially attractive are the figures of
St. Francis and St. Clare, their cloaks of the colour of a tea-rose,
and of the other saints in green and russet-brown standing in a frame
of twisted ribbons tied in bows above their heads. Unfortunately the glass
has been repaired in some places by careless modern workers and we see such
strange results as the large head of a bearded man upon the body of St.
Catherine, high up in the left hand window.
[Illustration: THE OLD
CEMETERY OF SAN FRANCESCO]
_The Chapel of St. Anthony the
Abbot._[80]--About 1367 two monuments were erected in this chapel over the
sepulchres of two murdered princes--Messer Ferdinando Blasco, nephew of the
Cardinal Albornoz, and his son Garzia. Some say they met their death at
Spoleto where the father was vice-governor, others that they were killed at
Assisi close to the convent of S. Appolinare by the citizens before they
submitted to the kindly rule of the Cardinal. The chapel had been built by
a liberal Assisan gentleman who also left money for its decoration; but if
there were paintings (Vasari mentions some by Pace di Fænza) nothing now
remains but a rather feeble picture by a scholar of Pinturicchio. The white
stone monuments, the white-washed walls and the total absence of colour gives
an uncared-for look to this out-of-the way corner of the church. A much
brighter spot is the old cemetery opening out of this chapel, which was built
in the fourteenth century with the intention of adorning it with frescoes in
imitation of the Campo Santo at Pisa. The double cloister seen against
a background of cypresses and firs, above which rises the northern side of
the Basilica, form a pretty group of buildings, and can be better enjoyed now
than in former days, when the bones of Assisan nobles and franciscan friars
were piled in the open galleries.
The Basilica of San Francesco became
the burial place, not only of some of the saint's immediate followers, but
also of many distinguished personages. The large stone tomb at the end of
the church is always pointed out as that of "Ecuba," Queen of Cyprus,
who is said to have come to Assisi in 1229 to give thanks for having
been cured of an illness by the intercession of St. Francis, when she
gave the porphyry vase full of ultramarine which is still to be
seen, though now empty of its precious contents. She is said to have died
in 1240, and to have been buried in San Francesco. But this "Ecuba" is
a mysterious person not to be found in the history of her country,
which has led some writers to say that it is Iolanthe, the second wife
of Frederick II, who lies here. It is one of those tombs common in
the time of Giovanni Pisani, but bearing only a faint resemblance to
his masterpiece in the Church of San Domenico in Perugia. "On one
side," says Vasari, in surprise at the novelty of the style, "the
Queen, seated upon a chair, places her right leg over the left in a
singular and modern manner, which position for a lady is ungraceful,
and cannot be regarded as a suitable action for a royal monument."
The
tomb to the right was erected soon after 1479 in memory of Niccolo Specchi,
an Assisan physician of renown attached to the persons of Eugenius IV, and
Niccolo V.
_Tomb of St. Francis._--Although it had always been supposed
that St. Francis lay beneath the high altar, no one knew precisely the
spot where Elias had hidden him. In the last centuries many attempts
were made to find the tomb by driving galleries in every direction into
the bed of rock on which the Basilica stands;[81] but all failed,
until more energetic measures were taken in 1818. And after fifty nights
of hard work, conducted with the greatest secrecy (it would seem as though
the spirit of Elias still presided over the workers), below the high altar,
encased in blocks of travertine taken from the Roman wall near the temple of
Minerva, and fitted together neatly as those of an Etruscan wall, was found
the sepulchral urn of St. Francis. It was evidently the same in which he had
been laid in the Church of San Giorgio, untouched till that day. Round the
skeleton were found various objects, placed, perhaps, by the Assisans, who in
this seem to have followed the custom of their earliest ancestors, as
offerings to the dead. There were several silver coins, amongst them some of
Lucca of 1181 and 1208, and a Roman ring of the second century, with
the figure of Pallas holding a Victory in her right hand engraved on a
red cornelian. Five Umbrian bishops, four cardinals, numberless
priests and archæologists visited the spot to verify the truth of
the discovery, and finally published the tidings far and wide,
which brought greater crowds than ever to Assisi, and among them no less
a personage than the Emperor Francis I, of Austria. Donations poured
in for building a chapel beneath the Lower Church round the saint's
tomb, and in six months the work was completed by Giuseppe Brizzi of
Assisi. The citizens, in their zeal, decorated it with marble altars
and statues, until the tradition treasured by the people of a
hidden chapel below the Basilica and rivalling it in richness was
almost realised, and they flocked down the dark staircases with
lighted torches to witness the accomplishment of the legends weaved by
their forefathers (see p. 136). It is a most impressive sight to attend
mass here with the peasants in early morning ere they go forth to
their work in the fields. Silently they kneel with bowed heads near
the tomb, touching it now and again through the grating with
their rosaries; the acolytes move slowly about the altar and the voices
of the priests are hushed, for here at least all feel the solemnity of
a religious rite. The candles burn dimly with a smoky flame, the sanctuary
lamps cast a flickering red light upon the marble pavement and the walls cut
out of the living rock, and with the darkness which seems to press around is
the damp smell, reminding us that we are indeed in the very bowels of the
Assisan mountain. |
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