FOOTNOTES:
[73] There are only the most meagre scraps of
information to rely upon as to the dates of Giotto's works at San Francesco,
and it is needless here to enter into the endless discussion. One thing is
obvious; the Assisan frescoes must have been executed before those at Padua
which have always been assigned to 1306. In these pages we have
sometimes followed the view held by Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle,
sometimes that of Herr Thode, who appears to have studied the question with
open eyes, but our final authority is M. Bernhard Berenson, who in a
visit paid lately to Assisi was kind enough to point out many things
which we should otherwise have passed by, and in the sequence of
the frescoes by Giotto at San Francesco we have entirely followed
his opinion.
[74] For Simone Martini's Madonna and Saints between the
two chapels of this transept, see p. 212. The portraits (?) of some of the
first companions of St. Francis, painted beneath Cimabue's fresco, belong
to the Florentine school. It would be vain to try and name them.
[75]
See Vasari, ed. Milanesi, vol. i. p. 426. (Sansoni Firenze.)
[76] It is
often supposed that Giotto took the theme of this fresco from the well-known
lines of Dante referring to the mystical marriage of St. Francis to Poverty.
But Dante wrote the xi. canto of the _Paradiso_ long after Giotto had left
Assisi; both painter and poet really only followed the legend recounted by
St. Bonaventure of how St. Francis met three women who saluted him on the
plain of S. Quirico near Siena. These were Poverty, Charity and
Obedience.
[77] _Paradiso_, xi., Cary's translation.
[78] This
fact alone would disprove the idea that Giottino, who was born in 1324, could
have been the author of these frescoes. Everything that cannot be attributed
to other painters is put down as his work, so that we have many pictures and
frescoes of totally different styles assigned to Giottino.
[79] Some
say this fresco represents the three youths begging St. Nicholas to pardon
the consul who had condemned them to death, in which case it would come after
the scene of the execution on the opposite wall.
[80] The tabernacle
on the altar is the work of Giulio Danti, after a design by Galeazzo Alessi,
both Perugians, in 1570.
[81] How right Elias was to hide the body of St.
Francis in so secure a place is shown by the various endeavours made by the
Perugians to secure the holy relics for their town. In the fifteenth century
they attempted, while at war with Assisi, to carry off the body by
force, and failing, had recourse to diplomacy. They represented to
Eugenius IV, that it would be far safer at Perugia, and begged him to
entrust them with it. He denied his "dear sons'" request on the plea that
the Assisans would be brought to the verge of despair and their city
to ruin.
CHAPTER VII
_The Sienese Masters in the
Lower Church. The Convent_
... "Je donnerais pour ce caveau toutes les
eglises de Rome."--H. TAINE. _Voyages en Italie. Perouse et
Assisi._
THE CHAPEL OF ST. MARTIN[82]
The best masters of
Tuscany having, by the beginning of the thirteenth century, covered most of
the walls of San Francesco with choice work, it now remained for Siena to
send artists to complete their loveliness by effigies of calmly sweet
Madonnas and saints whose gentle beauty seemed rightly fitted for their
Umbrian surroundings.
The first to come, probably very few years after
Giotto had left, was Simone Martini, "the most lovable," Mr Berenson calls
him, "of all the artists before the Renaissance."[83] He married Giovanna
Memmi, a Sienese, whose brother Lippo Memmi often helped him in minor
works; this may account for the confusion between the two, and why he is
so often called by his brother-in-law's surname. One of the
artist's claims to immortality, the highest, according to Vasari who was
not partial to the Sienese, was the praise he won from Petrarch for
the portraits he painted on more than one occasion of Madonna
Laura. Simone's talents were sung by the "love-devoted" Tuscan poet who
calls him "mio Simon," and in one perfect sonnet tells how he must
surely have been in paradise and seen the loveliness of Madonna Laura, as
he has drawn her features with such fidelity that all on earth
must perforce acknowledge her beauty.
The Chapel of St. Martin at
Assisi is filled with such faces as Petrarch describes. It possesses, too,
all the varied colour of a garden, only a garden not inhabited by earthly
mortals, but by gentle knights and fairy kings wearing wonderful crowns of
beaten gold, with cherubs' heads, flowers and moons upon their surface, and
women who hold their lilies with caressing fingers. All gives way before
his sense of the beautiful, the ornate and the charming, so that
he creates a world apart of saints and angels with a feeling of remoteness
about them which is one of the most striking features of his art. He loved
all that was joyous; he depicted no tragic scenes; his saints have already
won their crowns in heaven, his kings are conquerors, and around a death-bed
the angels sing. He may sometimes fail as a story-teller, and his
compositions do not always give the same sense of perfection as those of
other stronger artists, but his very faults are lovable, and all can be
forgiven for the exquisite finish of his paintings, which, in their brilliant
colouring, are like a piece of old embroidery where design and hues have been
woven in by patient fingers. "To convey his feeling for beauty and grace
and splendour," says Mr Berenson, "Simone possessed means more
than sufficient. He was a master of colour as few have been before him
or after him. He had a feeling for line always remarkable, and once,
at least, attaining to a degree of perfection not to be surpassed.
He understood decorative effects as a great musician understands
his instruments."[84]
It is a little difficult to find out where
Simone begins his legend of St. Martin, as he seems to have fitted in the
different scenes just where he could, thinking, as was only right, more of
the effect of decoration than of the sequence of the story. The two frescoes
on the left wall refer to the well-known act of charity, when St. Martin,
a young Lombard soldier serving in the army of the Emperor Constantine in
Gaul, met, on a bitter winter's day, a beggar outside the gates of Amiens,
and having nothing but the clothes he wore divided his cloak with the poor
man. It is not one of Simone's pleasing compositions; far better is the next
where Christ appears to the saint in a dream, wearing the cloak he had given
in charity and saying to the angels who surround him: "Know ye who hath thus
arrayed me? My servant Martin, though yet unbaptised, hath done this." The
face of the young saint is very calm and palely outlined against his golden
aureole as he lies asleep, clasping his throat gently with one hand. With
what patience has Simone drawn the open-work of the sheets, the pattern on
the counterpane, the curtain about the bed; no detail has been
passed over. And who can forget his angels, the profile of one, the
thick waving hair of another, and the grand pose of the standing figure,
a little behind Christ, whose head is poised so stately upon
a well-moulded neck.
[Illustration: THE KNIGHTHOOD OF ST. MARTIN BY
SIMONE MARTINI (D. ANDERSON--_photo_)]
Exactly opposite are two
scenes belonging to the early times of the saint's life when he was yet a
soldier. In one the Emperor Constantine is giving him his sword, while an
attendant buckles on the spurs of knighthood; here also, as in most of the
frescoes, we pick out single figures to dwell on, such as the youth with a
falcon on his wrist, whose profile is clearly outlined yet tender, with that
pale red-golden tinge over the face by which Simone always charms
us. Remarkable for grace and motion is the man playing on the
mandoline, with a sad dreamy face, who seems to sway to the sounds of his
own music; whilst almost comic is the player on the double pipes, with
his curious headgear and tartan cloak.
The next scene is divided by a
rocky ridge, behind which is seen the army of the Gauls, who, by the way,
have Assisan lions on their shields. St. Martin, after refusing to accept his
share of the donations to the soldiers, declares his intention of leaving the
army to become a priest, and when accused of cowardice by the Emperor,
he offers to go forth and meet the enemy without sword or shield.
Simone pictures him as he steps forth upon the perilous enterprise,
holding the cross and pointing to the sky, as he refuses the helmet held
out to him by the Emperor. Next day, says the legend, the Gauls laid
down their arms, having submitted to the word of St. Martin who was
then allowed to quit the world for the religious life.
On the opposite
wall, above the apparition of Christ with the cloak, we see St. Martin no
longer in soldier's garb, but as the holy Bishop of Tours. The saint has
fallen into a reverie whilst saying mass, and in vain a priest tries to rouse
him by laying a hand upon his shoulder for his eyes remain closed, and the
kneeling priest waits patiently with the book of the Gospels upon his knee.
Simone never surpassed the dignity, the religious feeling, the quiet repose
and ease expressed in the figure of St. Martin; while he has kept the scene
as simple as one of Giotto's frescoes, thus making it the most perfect among
these compositions. To the left is a much ruined picture of the
restoration of a child to life through the prayers of the saint, who was
preaching at Chartres. Among a crowd of people one figure, with a
Florentine headgear such as Andrea del Castagno paints, stands clearly out;
below a small child can be discerned stretching out little hands towards
the kneeling bishop.
Above this again, almost too high to be clearly
seen, is the death of St. Hilary of Poitiers, at which St. Martin assisted.
One of the mourners has a mantle of turquoise blue, a beautiful piece of
colour like the sky seen through the arches of the Gothic windows.
On
the other wall, over the fresco where St. Martin receives knighthood, is
recorded the legend of how "as he went to the church on a certain day,
meeting a poor man naked, he gave him his inner robe, and covered himself as
he best might with his cope. And the archdeacon, indignant, offering him a
short and narrow vestment, he received it humbly, and went up to celebrate
mass. And a globe of fire appeared above his head, and when he elevated the
host, his arms being exposed by the shortness of the sleeves, they were
miraculously covered with chains of gold and silver, suspended on them
by angels."[85]
The next picture, which is very ruined, represents the
visit of St. Martin to the Emperor Valentinian, who, because he had rudely
kept his seat in his presence, suddenly found it to be on fire, and, as
the legend says, "he burnt that part of his body upon which he
sat, whereupon, being compelled to rise, contrite and ashamed, he
embraced Martin, and granted all that he required of him."
Above this
is the death of St. Martin, with a graceful flight of angels hovering over
the bier singing as they prepare to carry his soul to heaven. Very fine is
the fresco in the lunette of the entrance, where Cardinal Gentile, in his
franciscan habit, is kneeling before the saint who bends forward to raise him
from so humble a position. But in the single figures of saints, in the arch
of this chapel, standing like guardian deities within their Gothic
niches, Simone rivals greater artists in grace and strange beauty. In
honour of the franciscan donor the chief franciscan saints are
depicted beside two others of universal fame. St. Francis and St. Anthony
of Padua, and below them St. Catherine of Alexandria and St.
Mary Magdalen; on the other side, St. Louis, King of France and St.
Louis, Bishop of Toulouse, and below them St. Clare and St. Elisabeth
of Hungary. Nowhere has St. Clare received so true an interpretation
of her gentle saintliness as in this painting by Simone, and he
has surpassed his other works in the exquisite drawing of the hand
which holds her habit to one side. It would seem as though in these
saints he had attained the limits of his power of expressing types of
pure beauty, were it not for the half figures in the embrasures of
the window of such finish and subtle charm as to haunt us like some
strain of long remembered music. There is a bishop in a cope of creamy
white with gold embroidery, a hermit with a long brown beard, and saints
who calmly pray with clasped hands. The broad white band of pale
shadowed fur is low enough to show the graceful line of the neck of the
young saint in the left hand window, his hair tinged with pale red and
his face so fair as to seem a shadow upon the wall, coming and going
in the play of light.
So enthralling is the study of the frescoes that
it is possible to leave the chapel without noticing the stained-glass
windows, perhaps the loveliest in the church where all are lovely. They seem
to belong to the same epoch as the paintings, and in one or two instances
a figure may have been inspired by them, such as the angels with sword and
shield who resemble Simone's angels in the upper part of the fresco of St.
Martin's death. Cardinal Gentile was in all probability the donor of these as
well as of the chapel, for he is represented in the central window kneeling
before St. Martin, who is in full episcopals. These windows are dazzling;
there are warriors in red and green, saints standing against circles of
cream-tinted leaves, St. Jerome in magenta-coloured vestments harmonising
strangely with the crimson of his cardinal's hat; and St. Anthony of Padua in
violet shaded with paler lights as on the petals of a Florentine iris.
A saint in white is placed against a scarlet background, another in
pale china blue against a sky of deep Madonna blue, and all these
colours lie side by side like masses of jewels of every shade.
On
leaving we find to the left of the papal throne a small chapel ornamented
only by a window which has an apostle standing in a plain Gothic niche, the
ruby red and tawny yellow of his mantle making a brilliant patch of colour in
this dark corner of the church. The head is modern, but the figure, the
circular pattern beneath, and the right half of the window with five
medallions, are, according to Herr Thode, the oldest pieces of coloured glass
in the lower church.
Just above the papal throne is a handsomely worked
ambo in red marble and mosaic, forming a kind of pulpit from which many
illustrious people have preached, among them St. Bonaventure and St.
Bernardine of Siena. In the recess a Florentine artist of the fourteenth
century has painted the Coronation of the Virgin, a fresco worthy of its
beautiful setting; and there is a crucifixion and scenes from the martyrdom
of St. Stanislaus of Poland by a follower of Pietro Lorenzetti, pupil
of Simone Martini. St. Stanislaus was canonised in 1253 when Innocent
IV, came to consecrate the Basilica, and upon this occasion a miracle
took place which redounds to the honour of the saint. While Cardinal
de Conti (afterwards Alexander IV,) was preaching, one of the capitals
of a pillar above the pulpit fell upon the head of a woman in
the congregation, and thinking she was dead, as she had sunk down
without a groan, her neighbours covered her over with a cloak "so as not
to disturb the solemnity of the occasion." But to their amazement when the
sermon ended the woman rose up and gave thanks to St. Stanislaus, for the
blow, far from doing her harm, had cured her of headaches to which she had
been subject. The legend would long since have been forgotten, were it not
that the capital which fell on that memorable day is still suspended by
chains in the opposite corner of the nave, and often puzzles the visitor who
does not know its history.
Below the pulpit is a slab of red marble let
into the wall with these simple words inscribed: "Hic jacet Jacoba sancta
nobilisque romana," by which the Assisans commemorated the burial place of
Madonna Giacoma da Settesoli the friend of St. Francis, who after his death
lived at Assisi and followed the rule of the Third order until she died in
1239 (see p. 114).
_Left Transept._--To Pietro Lorenzetti was given
the work of decorating these walls with scenes from the Passion, and so far
as completing the rich colour of the church be succeeded. But when studied
as separate compositions they betray the weakness of an artist who, as Mr.
Berenson remarks, "carries Duccio's themes to the utmost pitch of frantic
feeling." Great prominence is given to the subject of the crucifixion where
the vehement actions of the figures rather than the nobility of the types are
pre-eminent. It may be of interest to some that the man on the white horse is
said to be Gualtieri, Duke of Athens, the tyrant of Florence, whose arms
Vasari says he discovered in the fresco which he describes as the work of
Pietro Cavallini.
A curious composition is that on the opposite wall
where the disciples sit in awkward attitudes and the servants in the kitchen
are seen cleaning the dishes while a dog hastily licks up the scraps. It
would be difficult to know this represented a religious scene were it
not for the large aureoles of the apostles. Nor has Pietro succeeded
in giving solemnity to the scene of the Stigmata, where the
strained position of St. Francis and the agitated movement of the
Seraph partake of the general characteristics of these frescoes. But in
his Madonna, St. Francis and St. John the Evangelist, below
the crucifixion, Pietro Lorenzetti gives his very best and their faces
we remember together with the saints of Simone Martini. Referring to
this fresco M. Berenson says: "At Assisi, in a fresco by Pietro, of
such relief and such enamel as to seem contrived of ivory and gold
rather than painted, the Madonna holds back heart-broken tears as she
looks fixedly at her child, who, Babe though he is, addresses her
earnestly; but she remains unconsoled."[86]
_Chapel of S. Giovanni
Battista._[87]--Another lovely work by Pietro Lorenzetti is the triptych over
the altar, the Madonna, St. Francis and St. John the Baptist, but here the
action of the child leaning towards the Virgin and holding the end of her
veil, is more caressing and suggestive of babyhood. Above are small heads of
angels like those Pietro places in medallions round the frescoes in the south
transept. This, and the panel picture over the altar in the opposite
chapel, complete the works of the Sienese school in Assisi. The Umbrian
school is represented by a large and unsympathetic picture by Lo
Spagna (dated 1526), which is however considered by local admirers of
the painter to be his masterpiece. It is a relief to turn from
his yellow-eyed saints and hard colouring to the windows of this
chapel which are remarkable for their harmony and depth of tone.[88]
The figures of the central window date from the second half of
the thirteenth century, those of the left window are at least
two centuries later.
_The Sacristies._--These open out of St.
Giovanni's Chapel. Both are ornamented with handsomely carved cupboards of
the sixteenth century where the friars store their vestments and costly lace,
and which once were full of gold and silver vessels amassed during many
centuries. But often during mediæval times of warfare the friars had to
stand aside and see the sacristies sacked by the Perugians, or even
the Assisans, when they must have envied the peace of mind of the
first franciscans who, possessing nothing, could have no fear
of robbers.[89]
Devoted as the citizens were to the memory of St.
Francis they do not seem to have hesitated, when in want of money, to help
themselves liberally to the things in his church. At one time when the
Baglioni were besieging Assisi, her despot Jacopo Fiumi gathered the
citizens about him, and in an eloquent harangue called upon them to rob
the church at once before the enemy had entered the gates, lest
the treasure should fall into the hands of the Perugians. So
the sacristies were rifled, and with the proceeds Jacopo Fiumi rebuilt
the walls and the palaces which had fallen to ruin during the
incessant fighting of past years. The next plunderers were the soldiers
of Napoleon, and it is a marvel that so many things still remain.
A cupboard in the inner sacristy contains a beautiful cross
of rock-crystal ornamented with miniatures in blue enamel brought by
St. Bonaventure as a gift from St. Louis of France; there is also
the second rule of St. Francis which was sanctioned by Honorius III.
Even more precious is a small and crumpled piece of parchment, with
a blessing written in the big child-like writing of St. Francis, which he
gave to Brother Leo at La Vernia after he had received the Stigmata. On one
side he wrote part of the Laudes Creatoris, upon the other the biblical
blessing:
"_Benedicat tibi Dominus et custodiat te_:
_Ostendat faciem suam tibi et misereatur tui_: _Convertat vultum suam ad
te et de tibi pacem_":
and then below:
"_Dominus benedicat
te, Frate Leo._"
Instead of the Latin, the saint signs with the Thau
cross, which is of the shape of the mediæval gallows, and may have been yet
another way of showing his humility by humbling himself even to the level
of malefactors. Many pages have been written about this relic; the line by
Brother Leo in explanation below the signature of St. Francis:
"_Simili modo fecit istud signum Thau cum capite manu sua,_"
has puzzled
many people, but in a pamphlet by Mr Montgomery Carmichael[90] it has
received a plausible translation. He thinks that _cum capite_ refers to the
small knob at the top of the Thau, by which St. Francis meant to represent a
malefactor's head; the line would read thus: "in like manner with his own
hand he made a cross with a head," and not "with his own head," as some
believe. Mr Carmichael thinks the curious mound out of which the cross rises
is a rough drawing of La Vernia. Above the benediction, in neatly formed
letters, Brother Leo has written a short account of the sojourn at the
Sacred Mount and of the Vision of the Seraph. This relic has been
mentioned in the archives of the convent since 1348, and is always carried
in procession at the commencement of the feast of the "Perdono" on
July 31st.
Almost more honoured by the faithful is the "Sacred Veil of
the most Holy Virgin," which can only be exposed to the public in the
presence of the Bishop of Assisi, and is shown in times of pilgrimage when
the sacristy and church are full of men and women waiting for their
turn to kiss the holy relic.
The picture over the door, painted by
Giunta Pisano (?) is always pointed out as a portrait of St. Francis, but as
the painter's first visit to Assisi was in 1230 he can only have seen the
body of the saint borne to its last resting-place in the Basilica, and even
that is doubtful when we remember with what secrecy the burial
was performed. Here the face is pointed and emaciated, with a curious
look in the eyes as though Giunta had desired to record his blindness.
The figure is surrounded by small scenes from the miracles of St.
Francis, performed during his lifetime and at his tomb in San Giorgio.
But though in the so-called portraits of the saint, the artists think
more of representing him as the symbol of asceticism and sanctity than
of aiming at giving a true likeness, both this picture and a
fresco painted in 1216 at Subiaco when the saint stayed there on his way
to Spain, are not very dissimilar from the graphic description left us
by Celano. He tells us that St. Francis "was rather below the middle
stature with a small round head and a long pinched face, a full but
narrow forehead and candid black eyes of medium size, his hair likewise
was black; the brows were straight, the nose well-proportioned, thin
and straight, the ears erect but small, and the temples flat; his
speech was kindly, yet ardent and incisive; his voice powerful, sweet,
clear and sonorous; his teeth were regular, white and set close; his
lips thin and mobile, his beard was black and scant, his neck thin,
his shoulders square; the arms were short, the hands small with
long fingers and almond-shaped nails, his legs were thin, his feet
small, his skin delicate, and he was very thin...."
[Illustration:
BIRD'S EYE VIEW OF THE BASILICA AND CONVENT OF SAN FRANCESCO, FROM A
DRAWING MADE IN 1820]
_Right Transept._[91]--On the walls between the
Chapels of the Sacramento and of St. Maria Maddalena, Simone Martini has left
some of his loveliest work in the half figures of franciscan saints he
places near the Madonna. These are St. Francis, St. Louis of Toulouse,
St. Elizabeth of Hungary, St. Clare clothed in the habit of her
order, always to be recognised when painted by Simone by her heavy plaits
of hair, St. Anthony of Padua with the lily, St. Louis of France with
a crown of _fleur-de-lis_, and upon the right of the Virgin, a noble saint
who may be Helen the mother of King Louis, as she too holds a sceptre with
the lily of France on the top. Never had saints so majestic a queen as
Simone's Madonna. The subdued greens and tawny reds of their mantles and
their auburn hair look most beautiful against the gold ground which shines
with dull light about them. Each of their aureoles bears a different pattern
in raised _gesso_; a garland of flowers, a circle of human heads, suns, a
tracery of roses and ivy, or yet again another of oak leaves. After Giotto's
Allegories and the frescoes in San Martino, these saints are by far the
loveliest things in San Francesco, and as they look towards us, ethereal,
like a faint moon on a misty night, they seem the very incarnation
of mediæval faith. Dante created women such as Matilda, who sings to
him in Purgatory as she is picking flowers on a woodland river's edge,
and Simone paints them and conveys their spirit in the faces of St.
Clare and St. Elizabeth.
_The Convent_
It is natural to
think that the Basilica and Convent built under the guidance of Elias was as
we see it now in its full magnificence of chapels, porch, colonnades and
cloisters. Certainly the essential form of the building has not been altered,
but in the early days it stood isolated from the town, surrounded by such
rocks as jut out among the grass in the ravine outside Porta S. Pietro, and
approached by a drawbridge which made it resemble, even more than it does
now, a feudal stronghold guarding the Umbrian valley. Later on, as the
life of the place centred ever more round the church of the saint,
the citizens no longer built their houses near San Rufino or below
the castle, but close to San Francesco, until a second town sprang
up where once were only rough mountain pastures. It is still possible
to form an idea of how it looked by following round the base of the
hill by the Tescio, whence a wonderful and unique view of the northern
side of church and convent is obtained (see Appendix). Assisi lies
hidden, and standing high above us, shutting out the view of the valley,
is San Francesco; not the building with great arches we are familiar with,
rising high above the vineyards, but a castle, seen clearly defined and
strong against the sky, whose bastions clasp the hill top as powerfully as a
good rider bestrides his horse. Oak copses cover the slopes from the convent
wall straight down to the banks of the Tescio, where little mills are set
above deep pools of emerald green water and narrow canals fringed by poplar
trees. The minute detail of the landscape in this deep ravine gives a curious
feeling that we are walking in the background of one of Pier della
Francesca's pictures--even to the distant view of low-lying hills where
the torrent makes the sudden bend round the mountain edge; and
the contrast is strange between it and the fortress-church upon the
dark hill, where deep shadows lie across it and lurk within the crannies
of its traceries in the bay windows of the chapels and in the depths
of jutting stones. Such was the massive building "Jacopo" planned to stand
upon the mountain ridge, as much a part of the rocks and the red earth as the
cypresses which crown the summit. And in the midst, but on the southern side,
he placed, as if to balance the rest, a square and boldly conceived
bell-tower rising high above the church.[92] At the time it was the wonder of
the Assisans, who boasted that for beauty as well as for solidity it could be
counted among the first, not in Italy only, but in Europe. Bartolomeo of
Pisa, came to cast one of the big bells, and together with his own name he
inscribed those of Elias, Gregory IX, and Frederick II. On another bell,
which has been recast, was graven a delightful couplet informing the faithful
of the many services which consecrated bronze could render to the
country round.
[Illustration: SAN FRANCESCO FROM THE
TESCIO]
"Sabbatha pango, funera plango, fulgura
frango: Excito lentos, domo cruentos, dissipo ventos." ("I
ring in Sunday, I lament for the dead, the lightning I break, I hurry
the sluggards, I vanquish the wicked, the winds I disperse.")
To the time
of Elias also belongs the fine entrance to the Upper Church, where the Guelph
lion and the eagle of Frederick II, record the liberality of both parties
towards the building of the church, while the four animals round the wheel
window seem to show that "Jacopo," notwithstanding his marked love for pure
Gothic architecture, could not quite forget the strange but
fascinating beasts of Lombard facades.
[Illustration: STAIRCASE
LEADING FROM THE UPPER TO THE LOWER PIAZZA OF SAN FRANCESCO]
One
friar in the fifteenth century inherited some of the enthusiasm of Elias for
the basilica; this was Francesco Nani, the General of the franciscans, known
as Francesco Sansone because his patron, Sixtus IV, is said to have addressed
him with these words in allusion to his energy and strength of character, "Tu
es fortissimus Samson." His name is found upon the beautiful stalls of the
Upper Church, and it was he who superintended the laying out of the upper
piazza, connected with the lower one by a long flight of stairs. It may also
have been at this time that the _loggie_ of San Francesco were built for
the purpose of erecting booths during the festival of the "Pardon of
St. Francis." Certainly it was chiefly at his expense that Baccio
Pintelli (1478) built the handsome entrance door and porch to the Lower
Church, which in olden times was entered by a small door close to
the campanile. The architect fitted his work admirably into a corner
of the building, completing with clustered columns of pink marble,
wheel window, trefoiled arches and stone traceries, the scheme of colour
and the perfect proportions for which San Francesco is so remarkable.
The doors of carved wood, darkened now and of such massive workmanship
as to resemble bronze, were made in 1546 by Niccolo da Gubbio, who
has carefully commemorated the legend of St. Francis and the wolf
of Gubbio in one of the panels to the left. Sansone also commissioned the
doorway of what is now the entrance to the friars' convent a year after the
porch was finished, then it was only a small chapel, built by the members of
the Third order when St. Bernardine of Siena revived the religious enthusiasm
of the people. The Assisan artist placed a bas-relief of the saint in the
arch above the door, and it is still called "la porta di San
Bernardino."
None should leave Assisi, not even those who only hurry over
for the day, without visiting the convent, which recalls an eastern
building from the whiteness of its great vaulted rooms, long corridors
and arcaded courtyards when seen against the bluest of summer
skies.[93] Then from the cool and spacious convent, a place to linger in upon
a hot day in August, we step out into the open colonnade which skirts the
building to the south, makes a sharp turn west, and then juts out at the end,
facing south again. This last portion was added by Cardinal Albornoz in 1368,
and goes by the name of the _Calcio_. But two centuries later the foundations
were found to be insecure, and Sixtus IV, strengthened it by a bastion, which
looks solid enough to resist even the havoc of an earthquake. The Pope was a
great benefactor of the convent, and the friars placed his statue in a
niche in the bastion, where he sits, his hand raised in benediction, on
a papal throne overlooking the valley. From the rounded arches of
rough stone, turned by storm and sunshine to russet-red, pink and yellow,
we look out upon one of the most beautiful and extensive views in
Umbria. To the right is Perugia standing out almost aggressively on the
hill top; opposite, on a separate spur which divides the valley of
Spoleto from that of the Tiber, Bettona and Montefalco hang upon peaks
like the nests of birds in trees, and beyond are Spoleto, Trevi and
Narni, nearer again Spello, and the domes of Foligno in the plain, with
a host of small villages near. All the Umbrian world lies before us
from the convent of San Francesco.
[Illustration: SAN FRANCESCO FROM
THE PONTE S. VITTORINO]
Many weary people besides the popes came to rest
here in early times, and one mediæval warrior, Count Guido of Montefeltro,
the great leader of the Ghibellines, laid down his arms and left his castle
at Urbino in the year 1296, to pass his last days as a friar doing
penance within the peaceful shelter of San Francesco for a long life
of intrigue and bloodshed. He prayed by day, for at night they say
he stood gazing out of his window, one of those we see above the
walled orchard of the monks, watching the stars and attempting to divine
the mysteries and destinies he read there, exceeding even the
superstition of the age by his faith in the laws of astrology. But his
meditations and careful preparation for a holy death were suddenly disturbed,
and he found himself once more plunged into the whirl of Italian
politics and intrigue. War raged between Pope Boniface VIII, a Gaetani, and
the powerful family of the Colonna who braved his excommunications,
and, when their Roman palaces were burnt, fled to their strongholds in
the country. Many of these fell into the hands of the papal troops,
but Penestrino, their principal fief, resisted all attacks and the
Pope was nearly defeated when, remembering the old soldier Count
Guido known to be "more cunning than any Italian of his time, masterly
alike in war and in diplomacy," he hastened to ask his counsel. The story
is recounted by Dante, who could not forgive the Ghibelline chieftain
for coming to the assistance of the Pope.
Boniface, seeking to silence
the scruples of the friar, promised to absolve him from all sin, even before
committal, if only he would tell him how to act so "that Penestrino cumber
earth no more." Guido, whose subtlety had not deserted him in the cloister,
gave an answer which, while it ensured success to the papal arms, stamped him
as a man of such deceit and treachery that Dante placed him in the eighth
gulf of hell, among the evil counsellors eternally surrounded by
flaming tongues of fire.
"Then, yielding to the forced
arguments, Of silence as more perilous I deem'd, And answer'd:
'Father! since thou washest me Clear of that guilt wherein I now must
fall, Large promise with performance scant, be sure Shall make
thee triumph in thy lofty seat.'"[94]
Besides Count Guido and the popes
who, finding the large and airy rooms of the convent a convenient summer
resort, were constant visitors at Assisi, it can show a fine list of royal
visitors. Among them is the Queen of Sweden who, in 1655, came escorted by
Papal Nuncios, foreign ambassadors and cavalry, to pray at the tomb of
St. Francis. The Assisans sent out their best carriages with horses
ridden by postillions to meet her, adorned their palaces with flags
and damask hangings, and rang all the bells as she approached
the Basilica. "The Queen is called Christina," a chronicler tells us;
"she is aged twenty-nine, is very learned, being able to write in
eleven languages; she is small but very comely.... One hundred and fifty
beds were prepared in the convent and beautiful it was to see the
numerous suite and the pages of the nobles."
[Illustration: A FRIAR
OF THE MINOR CONVENTUAL ORDER OF ST. FRANCIS]
* *
* * *
It strikes the visitor to Assisi as strange that the
black-robed friars in charge of the Basilica are so unlike the franciscans
with whom everyone is familiar, and it may be well to give a few
facts relating to the many divisions in the Order which, as we have
seen, began already to change in the time of Elias. In 1517 a portion of
the brethren, desiring a mitigation of their rule, obtained from Leo X,
a dispensation and received the title of Friars Minor Conventuals with the
permission to choose their own Minister General. Their dress is shown in the
illustration. Those who kept to the rule more nearly approaching to that of
St. Francis, like those of Sta. Maria degli Angeli, the Carceri and San
Damiano, were called Friars Minor of the Observance, or Observants, and take
precedence over the others, enjoying the privilege of electing the "Minister
General of the whole order of the Friars Minor and successor of St. Francis."
In 1528, Matteo Baschi, an observant, instituted a new branch called
the Capucins, because of their long pointed capuce, whom he inspired
with the desire to lead a hermit's life in solitary places, preaching
to the people but once in the year. They have deserted their
hermitages and are a very popular order in Italy, devoting themselves
especially to preaching and hearing confessions, and form quite a distinct
family from the rest. The Basilica at Assisi no longer belongs to
the Conventuals, as after the union of Italy it was declared to be
a national monument. The Government also took possession of the convent as
a school for boys, leaving only a small portion for the reduced number of
friars to inhabit. They went to law, and the judge pronounced the convent to
be the property of the Holy See which had never ceased to exercise
jurisdiction over it; but a proviso was made that the school was to remain in
its present quarters until the Pope or the franciscans should erect a
suitable building for it in another part of the town. As much money is
required for so large an edifice and sites are not so easily procured, it
seems probable that for many years the sound of boys at play will be heard in
the convent walls instead of the slow footsteps of silent
friars.
FOOTNOTES:
[82] The donor of this chapel was Gentile de
Monteflori, a franciscan, created cardinal in 1298 by Boniface
VIII.
[83] Simone was born at Siena in 1283, and died at Avignon in 1344.
He belonged to the school of Duccio, though influenced to some degree
by his contemporary Giotto, whose work at Assisi he had full
opportunity to study.
[84] _Central Italian Painters of the
Renaissance_, B. Berenson, p. 47.
[85] _Sketches of the History of
Christian Art_, by Lord Lindsay, p. 134, vol. i.
[86] _The Central
Italian Painters of the Renaissance._ Bernhard Berenson, p. 48.
[87]
Built by the Orsini brothers, the founders of the Chapel del Sacramento, in
the beginning of the fourteenth century.
[88] It is curious that the
early Umbrian painters had so little share in the decoration of the
franciscan Basilica, the only other picture of the school is the one in the
Chapel of St. Anthony the Abbot, and a fresco by some scholar of Ottaviano
Nelli on the wall near the entrance of the Lower Church.
[89] Not only
had the friars to guard their own things, but also the vast treasures of the
Popes who, especially during their sojourn at Avignon, found San Francesco a
convenient store-house. See on p. 20 for the story of how these goods were
stolen by the citizens and the penalty this brought upon the
town.
[90] _La Benedizione di San Francesco_, Livorno, 1900.
[91]
See chapter vi. p. 171 for description of the frescoes here, and of those
above the altar. For Cimabue's Madonna on the right wall of the Transept see
chapter v. p. 155.
[92] In 1529 the campanile, which rather gives the
impression of a watch-tower, was used by Captain Bernardino da Sassoferrato,
as a sure place of refuge when the Prince of Orange entered Assisi with
his victorious army. From its heights he kept his enemy at bay for
three days, and finally escaped to Spello leaving the city a prey to
another despot.
[93] Open to visitors at two o'clock.
[94]
Cary's translation. Dante, _Inferno_, canto xxvii.
CHAPTER
VIII
_Giotto's Legend of St. Francis in the Upper Church_
"What, therefore, Giotto gave to art was, before all things,
vitality."--J. A. SYMONDS. _Renaissance in Italy._
Giotto in the
Lower Church had felt his way towards the full expression of his genius;
succeeding so well in the four Allegories that he was chosen to illustrate
the life of St. Francis, withheld, as we have seen, from all former artists,
while Cimabue was to hear the poet's praise of his pupil, "Ora ha Giotto il
grido." The task undertaken by the young painter, already a master at
twenty-five, was almost superhuman, and certainly unique in the career of any
artist; for whereas the pictorial treatment of the New Testament had
been attempted by many during several centuries, Giotto was destined
to invent forms for the whole franciscan cycle with such perfection
that no succeeding artist has varied his formula. It remains a
wonderful achievement, and the noble manner of its accomplishment proved him
to be, as Mr Roger Fry expresses it, "the supreme epic painter of
the world."
If St. Francis was fortunate in having his life related by
so admirable a story-teller, Giotto also owed something to the
early chroniclers who seeing, perhaps unconsciously, the
extraordinary poetry and the dramatic incidents in the saint's career,
had faithfully recorded them in simple and beautiful language. So far
the work was ready for Giotto, even the exact scenes were chosen for
him to illustrate, but the problem how to unfold and make them familiar
to the faithful by simple means, and yet not to lose the dignity and charm
of the theme, remained for him to solve; and the representation, by a few
figures, of a whole dramatic incident in so vivid a manner could only have
succeeded in the hands of a great master of the fourteenth century. It is
nearly certain that Giotto used St. Bonaventure's _Life of St. Francis_,
finished in 1263 and founded, with but few additions, upon _The Three
Companions_ and Celano's first and second _Life of St. Francis_. Though
written with a certain charm of style and though it lacks the ring of those
early pages, in which St. Francis becomes known to us in such a way that we
forget he lived seven hundred years ago; and although the various incidents
of his life are presented like so many beautiful pictures, there is
the feeling always that St. Bonaventure was writing about a saint
already honoured upon earth and in heaven, and not of the man whom all
loved as the "Poverello d'Assisi." But this legend served Giotto's
purpose; and a knowledge of the words he followed being necessary in order
to see where he simply kept to the franciscan legend, and where
he penetrated the true spirit of the saint's life and its
dramatic interest, we quote from it at some length, although many of the
main facts have already been treated of in a preceding chapter.[95]
I.
_St. Francis honoured by the Simpleton._--(We begin on the right wall by the
High Altar, and follow straight on to the opposite side, the legend unfolding
as in the pages of a book.)
"A certain man of great simplicity dwelt
in those days in Assisi, who, by virtue of knowledge divinely infused,
whenever he met Francis in the street, would take off his mantle, and
spread it upon the ground before him, declaring that he did so because
he was a man worthy of all honour and reverence, who should shortly
perform great works and marvellous deeds...."[96]
The bare facts are here
narrated which Giotto does not alter, but he puts such life into the scene
that we feel he might have been present when the simpleton cast himself at
Francis' feet and astonished the Assisans by his words. Attention is fixed
upon the six people in the foreground. Two worthy citizens have just arrived
in time to see the cloak being spread on the ground before Francis, and to
hear the prophetic words; and as they turn to each other, one pointing to
the scene, the other raising his hand with a movement of surprise, we
seem to hear their carping criticisms upon the brilliant youth
who, although he spent his time in singing and carousals, was one day
to bring renown to their city. The young Francis, ever heedless of worldly
comment, is stepping lightly on to the cloak, with a movement of surprise
that he should receive such honour. All have the Florentine headgear, but the
head of St. Francis is covered by a small white cap fitting close behind the
ears, just showing his hair in front, and we feel that Giotto would have left
him so, but the franciscans, ever to and fro in the church to see that the
story was painted as they liked, insisted upon an aureole being added. As
much glory for St. Francis they cried, as gold and money can give him.
So Giotto, who disliked unnecessary decorations, was made to put
an aureole above the white cap, larger than any we have ever seen.
But take away the halo and we should yet know which of the figures is
the saint, for he stands a little apart from his two noble friends
with ermine lined cloaks who talk with hands clasped together, and
is perhaps already wondering about the destiny which awaits him and
of which he was unaware, "for as yet he understood not the great purposes of
God towards him." |
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