The Story of Assisi 9

	The Story of Assisi 9

Besides the human interest of the frescoes it is a delightful task to study the architecture in each scene, for here, in the Upper Church, Giotto has built a whole city of little pink houses with balconies, towers and turrets, of exquisite Gothic basilicas, of temples and gabled thrones. His priests sit within palaces full of lancet windows and pointed arches, the groined roofs, as in the Assisan Church, ablaze with myriads of stars. What love he had for dainty ornaments, simple, nay almost severe in outline, but perfectly finished; and he always likes to show the blue sky overhead, or at least peeping through one of the windows, making the marble seem more lustrous and creamy white. Would that all Florence had been built by him. 2. _St. Francis giving his cloak to a poor Knight._    "Going forth one day, as was his wont, in apparel suited to his    state, he met a certain soldier of honour and courage, but poor    and vilely clad; of whose poverty, feeling a tender and sorrowful    compassion, he took off his new clothes and gave them to the poor    man-at-arms." None are there to witness the kind action of the young saint who, like another St. Martin, has dismounted to give his mantle to the poor man in a ravine near a little town enclosed by walls, a church spire rising upon the opposite hill. Giotto must have been thinking of the small rock-set towns, with stunted trees growing outside their walls, in his Tuscan home in the Mugello when he painted this, instead of the Umbrian town, standing amid vineyards and cornfields above an open valley with winding rivers, whose church he was decorating. It is the only one of the series in which the landscape is an important part of the picture, in the others it is a mere accessory. 3. _The Vision of St. Francis._    "On the following night, when he was asleep, the divine mercy    showed him a spacious and beautiful palace filled with arms and    military ensigns, all marked with the Cross of Christ to make    known to him that his charitable deed done to the poor soldier    for the love of the great King of heaven should receive an    unspeakable reward." It will be remembered that after this dream St. Francis started to join the army of Walter de Brienne, having wrongly interpreted the vision, which in reality symbolised the army he was eventually to lead in the service of the Pope (see p. 44). This is, perhaps, the least successful of the frescoes; probably the subject did not appeal strongly to the painter (he only seems to have enjoyed inventing the colonnaded palace with its trefoil windows) and also, as Mr Ruskin explains: "Giotto never succeeded, to the end of his days, in representing a figure lying down, and at ease. It is one of the most curious points in all his character. Just the thing which he could study from nature without the smallest hindrance, is the thing he never can paint; while subtleties of form and gesture, which depend absolutely on their momentariness, and actions in which no model can stay an instant, he seizes with infallible accuracy."[97] 4. _St. Francis praying before the Crucifix in San Damiano._    "As he lay prostrate before a crucifix he was filled with great    spiritual consolation, and gazing with tearful eyes upon the    holy cross of the Lord, he heard with his bodily ears a voice    from the crucifix, which said thrice to him: 'Francis, go and    build up My house, which as thou seest, is falling into ruin.'" Unfortunately this fresco is much faded and in parts peeled off; this, combined with the representation of a ruined church, gives a curious effect of total destruction, as if an earthquake had passed over the land. The figure of the saint, just visible, and his attitude of earnest prayer is very charming.   [Illustration: ST. FRANCIS RENOUNCES THE WORLD   (D. ANDERSON--_photo_)] 5. _St. Francis renounces the world._    "And now his father, ... brought this son, ... before the Bishop    of Assisi to compel him to renounce in his hands all his    inheritance.... As soon, therefore, as he came into the Bishop's    presence, without a moment's delay, neither waiting for his    father's demand nor uttering a word himself, he laid aside all    his clothes, and gave them back to his father.... With marvellous    fervour he then turned to his father, and spoke thus to him in    the presence of all: 'Until this hour I have called thee my    father on earth; from henceforth, I may say confidently, my    Father Who art in heaven.'" This, perhaps the most interesting of Giotto's frescoes, can be compared with the one in Sta. Croce at Florence on the same subject, painted when time and labour had given greater strength to his genius. The Assisan scene is treated with more simplicity, and, if less perfect as a decorative scheme, possesses quite as much dramatic interest and vitality. A little block of pink houses on either side reminds us that we are outside the Bishop's palace in the Piazza S. Maria Maggiore, where the scene is said to have occurred. Of course all the Assisans have turned out to see how the quarrel between Bernardone and his son will end. They stand behind the irate father like a Greek chorus, while one, evidently a citizen of distinction from his ermine lined cloak and tippet, restrains Messer Pietro, who is throwing back his arm with the evident intention of striking his son. Francis' passion for repairing Assisan churches and ministering to the wants of the poor had proved a costly business to the thrifty merchant, who loved his money and had little sympathy with Assisan beggars (sojourners in Assisi may agree with him). Delightful are the two tiny children who with one hand clutch up their garments, full of stones to throw at St. Francis. The bishop is the calmest person there, turning to his priests he seems to say: "All is well, there is God the Father's hand in the sky (with a little patience it can be distinguished in the fresco), and we are sure to gain the day, spite of Pietro's angry words." And so he quietly folds his episcopal mantle around St. Francis, who from this moment becomes indeed the Child of heaven. It may seem strange, as Mr Ruskin truly observes, that St. Francis, one of whose virtues was obedience, should begin life by disobeying his father, but Giotto means to show that the young saint was casting off all worldly restraint in order to obey the Supreme Power, and the scene is a counterpart to Dante's lines referring to his marriage with the Lady Poverty.      "A dame, to whom none openeth pleasure's gate      More than to death, was, 'gainst his father's will,      His stripling choice: and he did make her his,      Before the spiritual court, by nuptial bonds,      And in his father's sight: from day to day,      Then loved her more devoutly."[98] 6. _The dream of Innocent III._    "He saw in a dream the Lateran Basilica, now falling into ruin,    supported by the shoulders of a poor, despised, and feeble man.    'Truly,' said he, 'this is he who by his works and his teaching    shall sustain the Church of Christ.'" In the representations of this vision painted for Dominican churches, the Lateran is always supported by the two great founders, Francis and Dominic, who, in their different ways, helped Innocent in his difficult task of reforming the Church. Giotto shows his power and the advance art is making under his hand, in the figure of St. Francis, who with body slightly bent back and one hand on his hip, seems to support the great weight, while his feet are so firmly planted that there is no uncomfortable feeling of strain and only a sense of strength and security. Two men are seated by the bedside of the Pope, one is asleep while the other keeps watch, and in his slightly wearied attitude and the reposeful figure of the sleeper, Giotto's keen observation of the ordinary incidents of every day life is very apparent. 7. _Innocent III, sanctions the Rule of St. Francis._    "He was filled with a great and special devotion and love for the    servant of God. He granted all his petitions, and promised to    grant him still greater things. He approved the Rule, gave him a    mission to preach penance, and granted to all the lay brothers in    the company of the servant of God to wear a tonsure smaller than    that worn by priests, and freely to preach the Word of God." Giotto, in his fresco, has to represent the most important event in the life of the saint--his arrival at the papal court when he comes face to face with one of the greatest of the Roman Pontiffs; and by the simplest possible means the scene is brought before us. Here are no crimson-robed cardinals, no gilded papal throne; the bishops grouped behind Innocent are hardly noticed, or even the brethren who, with hands clasped as though in prayer, press closely to their leader like a flock of sheep round their shepherd. The eye is so fixed upon the two central figures, that all else fades away. Giotto has seized the supreme moment when the Pope, having overcome his fear lest St. Francis should falter in a life of poverty and prove to be only another heretical leader of which Italy had already too many, is, with kingly gesture, giving the Umbrian penitent authority to preach throughout the land. St. Francis, holding out his hand to receive his simple Rule, now bearing the papal seals, looks up with steady gaze; he is the most humble among men kneeling at the feet of Rome's sovereign, but strong in love, in faith and in knowledge of the righteousness of his mission. M. Paul Sabatier has beautifully illustrated the meaning of Giotto when he writes: "On pourrait croire que le peintre avait trempe ses levres dans la coupe du Voyant Calabrais [Joachim de Flore] et qu'il a voulu symboliser dans l'attitude de ces deux hommes la rencontre des representants de deux ages de l'humanite, celui de la Loi et celui de l'Amour." 8. _Vision of the Friars at Rivo-Torto._    "Now while the brethren abode in the place aforesaid, the holy    man went on a certain Saturday into the city of Assisi, for he    was to preach on the Sunday morning in the Cathedral Church. And    being thus absent in body from his children, and engaged in    devout prayer to God (as was his custom throughout the night), in    a certain hut in the canon's garden, about midnight, whilst some    of the brethren were asleep and others watching in prayer, a    chariot of fire, of marvellous splendour, was seen to enter the    door, and thrice to pass hither and thither through the house;    ..." Giotto's was not a nature to find much enjoyment in the portrayal of such events as saints being carried aloft in fiery chariots, and in dealing with this miracle he dedicated all his power to representing the astonishment of the brethren who witness the vision at Rivo-Torto. Two talk together and point to St. Francis being borne across the heavens by crimson horses, one hastens to awaken his companions who are huddled together in their hut like tired dogs asleep, and another starts from his slumbers to hear the wondrous news. 9. _Vision of Brother Pacifico._    "This friar being in company with the holy man, entered with him    into a certain deserted church, and there, as he was praying    fervently he fell into an ecstacy, and amid many thrones in    heaven he saw one more glorious than all the rest, adorned with    precious stones of most glorious brightness. And marvelling at    the surpassing brightness of that throne, he began anxiously to    consider within himself who should be found worthy to fill it.    Then he heard a voice saying to him: 'This was the throne of one    of the fallen angels, and now it is reserved for the humble    Francis.'" With what devotion St. Francis, his hands crossed upon his breast, prays upon the steps of the altar, while the friar behind is intent on asking questions about the marvellous thrones he sees poised above his head. Nothing can exceed the grace of the wide-winged angel floating down to earth to record the humility of Francis, his garments slightly spread by his movement through the air. 10. _St. Francis chases the Devils away from Arezzo._    "In order to disperse these seditious powers of the air, he sent    as his herald Brother Sylvester, a man simple as a dove, saying    to him: 'Go to the gates of the city, and there in the Name of    Almighty God command the demons by virtue of holy obedience, that    without delay they depart from that place....'" The main facts of the legend are followed closely in this fresco, but St. Bonaventure does not tell us how the miracle was performed, while Giotto, understanding the soul of Francis, paints him kneeling outside the gates of Arezzo praying with intense fervour for the salvation of the city. His faith is so strong that he does not even look up like Brother Sylvester, to see the demons flee away; some springing from off the chimneys, others circling above the towers, their bat-like wings outspread. The figure of Brother Sylvester is very fine, and the way he is lifting his tunic and stepping forward, as he stretches out one arm with a gesture of command towards the demons, could not be rendered with more ease and truth. 11. _St. Francis and Brother Illuminatus before the Sultan of Egypt._    "When they had gone a little further, they met with a band of    Saracens, who, quickly falling upon them, like wolves upon a    flock of sheep, cruelly seized and bound the servants of God ...    having in many ways afflicted and oppressed them, they were ...    according to the holy man's desire, brought into the presence of    the Sultan. And being questioned by that prince whence and for    what purpose they had come ... the servant of Christ, being    enlightened from on high, answered him thus: 'If thou and thy    people will be converted to Christ I will willingly abide with    thee. But if thou art doubtful whether or not to forsake the law    of Mohamed for the faith of Christ, command a great fire to be    lighted, and I will go into it with thy priests, that it may be    known which faith should be held to be the most certain and the    most holy.' To whom the Sultan made answer: 'I do not believe    that any of my priests would be willing to expose himself to the    fire or to endure any manner of torment in defence of his faith.'    Then said the holy man: 'If thou wilt promise me for thyself and    thy people that thou wilt embrace the worship of Christ if I come    forth unharmed, I will enter the fire alone.' ... But the Sultan    answered that he dared not accept this challenge, because he    feared a sedition of the people." This subject, from its dramatic interest, appealed to Giotto, giving full scope to his powers, both as a story-teller, and as a painter with such genius for portraying dignity and nobility of character. The principal persons, the Sultan and St. Francis, are here clearly placed before us as Giotto wished us to conceive them, and how correctly he realised their characters we learn from the chronicles of the time. "We saw," writes Jacques de Vitry in one of his letters, "Brother Francis arrive, who is the founder of the Minorite Order; he was a simple man, without letters, but very lovable and dear to God as well as to men. He came while the army of the Crusaders was under Damietta, and was much respected by all." This is indeed the man depicted by Giotto in the slight figure of the preacher standing at the foot of the marble throne, so humble, yet full of that secret power which won even the Sultan's admiration. But though the story centres in St. Francis, the person Giotto wishes all to notice is the Sultan, who, far from being an ignorant heathen to be converted, conveys the idea of a most noble and kingly person, Malek Camel in short, known throughout the East as the "Perfect Prince." His mollahs had wished to kill St. Francis and his companion, and the fine answer he made was worthy of his high character. "Seigneurs," he said, addressing his visitors, "they have commanded me by Mahomet and by the law to have your heads cut off. For thus the law commands; but I will go against the order, or else I should render you bad guerdon for having risked death to save my soul." Giotto has chosen the most dramatic moment when St. Francis offers to go through the ordeal by fire with the mahommedan priests, to prove the power of the Christian God. With one look back upon the fire the mollahs gather their robes around them and hurriedly leave the Sultan's presence; St. Francis points towards the flames as though he were assuring the Sultan that they will not hurt him, while the friar behind gazes contemptuously after the retreating figures of the mollahs. Dante and Milton in their different ways were able to give us a vivid idea of fire, flame and heat, and so would Giotto have done had he expressed his ideas by words instead of in painting; but he was wise enough not to attempt it in his fresco, and so in lieu of a blaze of crimson flames we have only what looks like a stunted red cypress, realistic enough to make us understand the story without drawing our attention away from the main interest of the scene. In this fresco we are again reminded of the simple methods, grand and impressive by their very straightforwardness, by which he brings before us so strange a scene and accentuates the importance of an event in his own individual way. 12. _Ecstasy of St. Francis._ This legend is not recounted by St. Bonaventure, Celano, or in _The Three Companions_, but there is a tradition of how St. Francis one day in divine communion with God, was wrapt in ecstasy and his companions saw him raised from the ground in a cloud. All that is human in the scene Giotto has done as well as possible, but he evidently found it hard to realise how St. Francis would have looked rising up in a cloud, so he has devoted himself to rendering truthfully the astonishment of the disciples who witness the miracle. 13. _The Institution of the Feast at Greccio._    "... in order to excite the inhabitants of Greccio to commemorate    the nativity of the Infant Jesus with great devotion, he    determined to keep it with all possible solemnity; and lest he    should be accused of lightness or novelty, he asked and obtained    the permission of the sovereign Pontiff. Then he prepared a    manger, and brought hay, an ox and an ass to the place appointed.    The brethren were summoned, the people ran together, the forest    resounded with their voices, and that venerable night was made    glorious by many brilliant lights and sonorous psalms of praise.    The man of God stood before the manger, full of devotion and    piety, bathed in tears and radiant with joy; many masses were    said before it, and the Holy Gospel was chanted by Francis, the    Levite of Christ.... A certain valiant and veracious soldier,    Master John of Greccio, who, for the love of Christ, had left the    warfare of this world, and become a dear friend of the holy man,    affirmed that he beheld an Infant marvellously beautiful sleeping    in that manger, whom the blessed Father Francis embraced with    both his arms, as if he would awake him from sleep." Besides the wonderful way in which Giotto has succeeded, to use the words of Mr Roger Fry, "in making visible, as it were, the sudden thrill which penetrates an assembly at a moment of supreme significance," there is the further interest of knowing that the scene of the Nativity arranged by St. Francis at Greccio, was the first of the mystery plays represented in Italy which were the beginning of the Italian drama. Giotto makes not only Master John of Greccio see the miracle of the Holy Child lying in the saint's arms and smiling up into his face, but also those who accompany him and some of the friars, while the other brethren, singing with mouths wide open like young birds awaiting their food, are much too occupied to notice what passes around them. A group of women, their heads swathed in white veils, are entering at the door, and the whole scene is one of animation and festivity. The marble canopy, with tall marble columns and gabled towers, over the altar is one of Giotto's most exquisite and graceful designs. But Giotto the shepherd has not succeeded so happily in depicting an ox which lies at the saint's feet like a purring cat. 14. _The Miracle of the Water._    "Another time, when the man of God wished to go to a certain    desert place, that he might give himself the more freely to    contemplation, being very weak, he rode upon an ass belonging to    a poor man. It being a hot summer's day, the poor man, as he    followed the servant of Christ, became weary with the long way    and the steep ascent, and beginning to faint with fatigue and    burning thirst, he called after the saint: 'Behold,' he said, 'I    shall die of thirst unless I can find a little water at once to    refresh me.' Then without delay the man of God got off the ass,    and kneeling down with his hands stretched out to heaven, he    ceased not to pray till he knew he was heard." Giotto has here rendered the aridity of the summit of La Vernia, its pinnacles of rocks with stunted trees. Two friars, by now quite accustomed to miracles, converse together as they lead the donkey from which St. Francis has dismounted to pray that the thirsty man's wishes may be gratified. The grouping of the figures repeat the pointed lines of the landscape, and the whole is harmonious and of great charm of composition. It was justly admired by Vasari, who thought the peasant drinking was worthy of "perpetual praise." Florentine writers were continually harping on what they considered to be Giotto's claim to immortality, his genius for portraying nature so that his copy seemed as real as life, an opinion shared by Vasari when he gives his reason for admiring this particular fresco. "The eager desire," he says, "with which the man bends down to the water is portrayed with such marvellous effect, that one could almost believe him to be a living man actually drinking." Over the door is a medallion of the Madonna and Child which once was by Giotto, but now, alas, the eyes of faith must see his handiwork through several layers of paint with which restorers have been allowed to cover it. A slightly sardonic smile has been added to the Madonna, and to appreciate what is left of her charm it is necessary to look at her from the other end of the church, where the beauty of line and composition can still be discerned notwithstanding the barbarous treatment she has undergone. 15. _St. Francis Preaching to the Birds at Bevagna._    "When he drew near to Bevagna, he came to a place where a great    multitude of birds of different kinds were assembled together,    which, when they saw the holy man, came swiftly to the place, and    saluted him as if they had the use of reason. They all turned    towards him and welcomed him; those which were on the trees bowed    their heads in an unaccustomed manner, and all looked earnestly    at him, until he went to them and seriously admonished them to    listen to the Word of the Lord.... While he spoke these and    other such words to them, the birds rejoiced in a marvellous    manner, swelling their throats, spreading their wings, opening    their beaks, and looking at him with great attention." This theme has been treated by another artist in the Lower Church, with little success as we have seen; it is also sometimes introduced in the predellas of big pictures of the school of Cimabue; but it remained for Giotto to give us a picture as beautiful in colour as those left by the early chroniclers in words. He never painted it again on a large scale, and the small representation in the predella of the picture in the Louvre follows the Assisan fresco in every detail. Two friars whose brown habits are tinted with mauve, one tree, a blue, uncertain landscape and some dozen birds, are all he thought necessary to explain the story, and yet the whole poetry of St. Francis' life is here, the keynote of his character, which has made him the most beloved among saints, and the man who though poor, unlettered and often reviled, was to herald the coming of a new age in religion, art and literature. With what love he bends towards his little feathered brethren as he beckons them to him, and they gather fearlessly round him while he points to the skies and tells them in simple words their duties towards their Creator. Another Florentine, Benozzo Gozzoli, painted this subject; there across the Assisan valley at Montefalco we can see it. His birds are certainly better drawn, there are more of them too, and we can even amuse ourselves by distinguishing among them golden orioles, blackbirds, doves and wood pigeons, but no one would hesitate to say that real charm and poetry are missing. Giotto's fresco, painted 600 years ago, is somewhat faded and many of the birds are partly effaced, but we do not feel it matters much what they are--we only love the fact that St. Francis called the Umbrian birds around him and preached them a sermon with the same care as if he had been in the presence of a pope, and that Giotto believed the legend and took pains with his work, intending that we also should believe and understand something of the sweetness of this Umbrian scene. 16. _Death of the Knight of Celano._    "When the holy man came into the soldier's house all the family    rejoiced greatly to receive this poor one of the Lord. And before    he began to eat, according to his custom, the holy man offered    his usual prayers and praises to God, with his eyes raised to    heaven. When he had finished his prayer, he familiarly called his    kind host aside, and said to him: 'Behold, my host and brother,    in compliance with thy prayers I have come to eat in thy house.    But now attend to that which I say to thee, for thou shalt eat no    more here, but elsewhere. Therefore, confess thy sins with truly    penitent contrition; let nothing remain in thee unrevealed by    true confession, for the Lord will requite thee to-day for the    kindness with which thou hast received His poor servant.' The    good man believed these holy words, and disclosing all his sins    in confession to the companion of St. Francis, he set all his    house in order, making himself ready for death, and preparing    himself for it to the best of his power. They then sat down to    table, and the others began to eat, but the spirit of the host    immediately departed, according to the words of the man of God,    which foretold his sudden death." This is one of the most characteristic of Giotto's works, showing his power, unique at that time, of touching upon human sorrow with simplicity, truth and restraint. Here is no exaggerated gesture of grief, no feigned expression of surprise or false note to make us doubt the truth of the tragedy that has befallen the house of Celano. But the movement of the crowd of sorrowing people, the men gazing down on the dead knight, the women weeping, their fair hair falling about their shoulders, tell better than any restless movement the awful grief which fills their hearts. It has happened so suddenly that the friar still sits at table with his fork in his hand, while St. Francis hast just risen to go to the people's assistance, while a man in the Florentine dress turns to him seeming, from the gesture of his hand, to say: "See, your prophecy has been fulfilled but too soon."   [Illustration: DEATH OF THE KNIGHT OF CELANO   (D. ANDERSON--_photo_)] 17. _St. Francis preaches before Honorius III._    "Having to preach on a certain day before the Pope and the    cardinals, at the suggestion of the Cardinal of Ostia he learned    a sermon by heart, which he had carefully prepared; when he was    about to speak it for their edification he wholly forgot    everything he had to say, so that he could not utter a word. He    related with true humility what had befallen him, and then,    having invoked the aid of the Holy Spirit, he began at once to    move the hearts of these great men...." In this fine fresco Giotto has represented St. Francis holding his audience as though spell-bound by the power of his eloquence, and the contrast is great between the charming figure of the saint and that of the stern and earnest Pope, who, deep in thought, is leaning his chin on his hand, perhaps wondering at the strange chance which has brought the slight brown figure, so dusty and so poorly clad, so ethereal and so eloquent, into the midst of the papal court. It is delightful to study the faces and gestures of the listeners; some are all enthusiasm and interest, like the charming young cardinal in an orange-tinted robe, whose thoughts seem to be far away following where St. Francis' burning words are leading them; but the older man gazes critically at the saint, perhaps saying within himself: "What is this I hear, we must give up all, our fat benefices, our comfortable Roman palaces, to follow Christ"; and the cardinal on the right of the Pope also seems surprised at the new doctrines of love, poverty and sacrifice. Four others lean their heads on their hands; but how varied are the gestures, from the Pope, all eagerness and keen attention, to the cardinal bowing his head sadly thinking, like the man of great possessions, how pleasant it would be to become perfect, but how impossible it is to leave the goods of this world. St. Francis' companion is seated at his master's feet as though affirming, "I follow his teaching, and all he says is right." 18. _The Apparition of St. Francis._    "For when the illustrious preacher and glorious Confessor,    Anthony, who is now with Christ, was preaching to the brethren in    the chapel at Arles on the title upon the Cross--'Jesus of    Nazareth, the King of the Jews'--a certain friar of approved    virtue named Monaldus, casting his eyes by divine inspiration    upon the door of the chapter-house, beheld, with his bodily eyes,    the blessed Francis raised in the air, blessing the brethren,    with his arms outstretched in the form of a Cross." The friars sit in various attitudes of somewhat fatigued attention before St. Anthony who is standing, and none seem as yet to be aware of the apparition of St. Francis, who appears at the open door under a Gothic archway, the blue sky behind him. There is a strange feeling of peace about the scene. 19. _The Stigmata._                "... On the hard rock,      'Twixt Arno and the Tiber, he from Christ      Took the last signet, which his limbs two years      Did carry...."[99] This fresco is unhappily much ruined; enough however remains to trace a close resemblance to Giotto's predella of the same subject now in the Louvre, but where the solemnity of the scene is increased by the saint being alone with the Seraph upon La Vernia.        *       *       *       *       * It may be well here to give some of the various opinions as to the authorship of these frescoes, though in this small book it is impossible to go at all deeply into the subject. Some, following Baron von Rumohr, hold that the only paintings in the Upper Church by Giotto, are the two by the door, the _Miracle of the Water_ and the _Sermon to the Birds_, while Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle give also the first of the series and the last five to him, but while "youthful and feeling his way," and all the rest to Gaddo Gaddi, or maybe Filippo Rusutti. Lastly, Mr Bernhard Berenson is of opinion that Giotto's style is to be clearly traced from the first fresco, _St. Francis honoured by the Simpleton_, to the nineteenth, _The Stigmata_; and they show so much affinity to the work of the great Florentine in Sta. Croce and elsewhere, that it is impossible not to agree with him. In the remaining frescoes, representing the death and miracles of St. Francis, he sees a close resemblance to the work of the artist who painted in the chapel of St. Nicholas (Lower Church), and who may have aided Giotto in the Upper Church before being chosen to continue his master's work. 20. _Death of St. Francis._    "The hour of his departure being at hand, he commanded all the    brethren who were in that place to be called to him, and    comforted them with consoling words concerning his death,    exhorting them with fatherly affection to the divine love....    When he had finished these loving admonitions, this man, most    dear to God, commanded that the Book of the Gospels should be    brought to him, and ... his most holy soul being set free and    absorbed in the abyss of the divine glory, the blessed man slept    in the Lord." This fresco has suffered from the damp and all that clearly remains are the angels, in whom the artist's feeling for graceful movement is shown, their flight down towards the dead recalling the rush of the swallows' wings as they circle in the evening above the towers of San Francesco. 21. _The Apparitions of St. Francis._    "... Brother Augustine, a holy and just man, was minister of the    Friars at Lavoro: he being at the point of death, and having for    a long time lost the use of speech, exclaimed suddenly, in the    hearing of all who stood around: 'Wait for me, Father, wait for    me; I am coming with thee....'    "At the same time the Bishop of Assisi was making a devout    pilgrimage to the church of St. Michael, on Mount Gargano. To him    the Blessed Francis appeared on the very night of his departure,    saying: 'Behold I leave the world and go to Heaven.'" In one fresco the artist has represented two different scenes, the greater prominence being given to the dying friar surrounded by many brethren. In neither is shown the figure of St. Francis, as the artist probably thought that it would have been difficult to introduce the apparition twice. But while the gesture of the friar stretching out his arms and the arrangement of the others explain the story, it would be difficult, without St. Bonaventure's legend, to know the feelings of the bishop who is so calmly sleeping in the background. 22. _The Incredulous Knight of Assisi._    "... when the holy man had departed from this life, and his    sacred spirit had entered its eternal house ... many of the    citizens of Assisi were admitted to see and kiss the Sacred    Stigmata. Among these was a certain soldier, a learned and    prudent man, named Jerome, held in high estimation in the city,    who, doubting the miracle of the Sacred Stigmata, and being    incredulous like another Thomas, more boldly and eagerly than the    rest moved the nails in the presence of his fellow-citizens, and    touched with his own hands the hands and feet of the holy man;    and while he thus touched these palpable signs of the wounds of    Christ, his heart was healed and freed from every wound of    doubt." This fresco is so much ruined that it is difficult to enjoy it as a whole, but some of the figures of the young acolytes bearing lighted torches, and the priests reading the service and sprinkling the body with holy water, are very life-like. 23. _The Mourning of the Nuns of San Damiano._    "Passing by the church of St. Damian, where that noble virgin,    Clare, now glorious in heaven, abode with the virgins her    sisters, the holy body, adorned with celestial jewels [the marks    of the Stigmata], remained there awhile, till those holy virgins    could see and kiss them." This, the loveliest of the last nine frescoes, recalls the one in St. Nicholas' Chapel of the three prisoners imploring the saint's protection; even to the basilica which forms the background of both. Considering that it is the last farewell of St. Clare and her companions to St. Francis the artist might have given a more tragic touch to the scene, but all is made subservient to the rendering of graceful figures, like the charming nuns who talk together as they hasten out of San Damiano, whose humble facade of stone the artist has transformed into a building of marble and mosaic almost rivalling the glories of such cathedrals as Siena and Orvieto. St. Clare stoops to kiss the saint while priests and citizens wait to resume their hymns of praise, and a small child climbs up a tree and tears down branches to strew upon the road in front of the bier.[100] 24. _The Canonisation of St. Francis._    "The Sovereign Pontiff, Gregory IX, ... determined with pious    counsel and holy consideration to pay to the holy man that    veneration and honour of which he knew him to be most worthy ...    and coming himself in person to the city of Assisi in the year of    our Lord's Incarnation, 1228, on Sunday the 6th of July, with    many ceremonies and great solemnity, he inscribed the Blessed    Father in the catalogue of the saints." This fresco is so ruined that it is impossible to form any idea of its composition; about the only object clearly to be seen is the sepulchral urn of St. Francis, represented beneath an iron grating in the church of San Giorgio. 25. _The Dream of Gregory IX, at Perugia._    "On a certain night, then, as the Pontiff was afterwards wont to    relate with many tears, the Blessed Francis appeared to him in a    dream, and with unwonted severity in his countenance, reproving    him for the doubt which lurked in his heart, raised his right    arm, discovered the wound, and commanded that a vessel should be    brought to receive the blood which issued from his side. The    Supreme Pontiff still in vision, brought him the vessel, which    seemed to be filled even to the brim with the blood which flowed    from his side." We are here left with an impression that the artist was hampered by not having enough figures for his composition, and the four men seated on the ground and guarding the Pope, compare unfavourably with Giotto's fresco of the three grand watchers by Innocent III, upon the opposite wall. 16. _St. Francis cures the Wounded Man._    "It happened in the city of Ilerda, in Catalonia, that a good    man, named John, who was very devout to St. Francis, had to pass    through a street, in which certain men were lying in wait to kill    him and ... wounded him with so many dagger-strokes as to leave    him without hope of life.... The poor man's cure was considered    impossible by all the physicians.... And, behold, as the sufferer    lay alone on his bed, frequently calling on the name of Francis    ... one stood by him in the habit of a Friar Minor, who, as it    seemed to him, came in by a window, and calling him by his name,    said, 'Because thou hast trusted in me, behold, the Lord will    deliver thee.'" The artist having here an incident less difficult to deal with than visions and dreams, betrays a certain humour in the stout figure of the doctor, who, as he leaves the room, turns to the two women as though saying, "He has begun to pray, as if that can help him when I have failed to cure him." Meantime St. Francis, escorted by two tall and graceful angels with great wings, is laying his hands upon the wounded man. Here, as in most of these latter frescoes, a single scene is divided into more than one episode; this seems to us to be the great difference between them and the works of Giotto, where the eye is immediately attracted towards the principal figure or figures, the others only serving to complete the composition. 27. _The last Confession of the Woman of Benevento._    "... a certain woman who had a special devotion to St. Francis,    went the way of all flesh. Now, all the clergy being assembled    round the corpse to keep the accustomed vigils, and say the usual    psalms and prayers, suddenly that woman rose on her feet, in    presence of them all, on the bier where she lay, and calling to    her one of the priests ... 'Father,' she said, 'I wish to    confess. As soon as I was dead, I was sent to a dreadful dungeon,    because I had never confessed a certain sin which I will now make    known to you. But St. Francis, whom I have ever devoutly served,    having prayed for me, I have been suffered to return to the body,    that having revealed that sin, I may be made worthy of eternal    life.' ... She made her confession, therefore, trembling to the    priest, and having received absolution, quietly lay down on the    bier, and slept peacefully in the Lord." The legend is dramatic and the artist has not failed to make us feel the great sadness and solemnity of the scene. A moment more, and the group of people to the left will come forward to carry the woman away for burial while the relations weep most bitterly; they stand aside with heads bowed in grief, for already the presence of death is felt. Only the sorrow of the child, who stretches out his arms, has passed away upon seeing her rise to speak with the priest. Very tall and slender are the figures of the women, bending and swaying together like flowers in a gentle breeze. 28. _St. Francis releases Peter of Alesia from Prison._    "When Pope Gregory IX, was sitting in the chair of St. Peter, a    certain man named Peter, of the city of Alesia, on an accusation    of heresy, was carried to Rome, and, by command of the same    Pontiff, was given in custody to the Bishop of Tivoli. He, having    been charged to keep him in safety ... bound him with heavy    chains and imprisoned him in a dark dungeon.... This man began to    call with many prayers and tears upon St. Francis ... beseeching    him to have mercy upon him.... About twilight on the vigil of his    feast, St. Francis mercifully appeared to him in prison, and,    calling him by his name, commanded him immediately to arise....    Then, by the power of the presence of the holy man, he beheld the    fetters fall broken from his feet, and the doors of the prison    were unlocked without anyone to open them, so that he could go    forth unbound and free." Everything here gives the impression of height; the tall slim figures, the high doorway, and the slender tower and arches. St. Francis is seen flying up to the skies with the same swift motion the artist has given to the figure of St. Nicholas in the Lower Church, and the "Greek Chorus" to the left serves to show surprise at the unusual occurrence of a prisoner suddenly emerging from his prison with broken fetters in his hands.        *       *       *       *       * None should leave the church without looking at the stalls in the choir; they are by Domenico da San Severino, made in 1501, by order, as an inscription tells us, of Francesco Sansone, General of the franciscan order, and friend of Sixtus IV. The artist only took ten years to execute this really wonderful work; the intarsia figures of the stalls in pale yellow wood, most of them fancy portraits of the companions of St. Francis, are remarkable for their form and character. They betray, in the opinion of Mr Berenson, Venetian influences of Crivelli and of the school of the Vivarini.   [Illustration: ARMS OF THE FRANCISCANS FROM THE INTARSIA OF THE   STALLS] FOOTNOTES: [95] St. Bonaventure was born in 1221 at Bagnora in Umbria, and became General of the franciscan order. Dante, in canto xii. of the _Paradiso_, leaves him to sing the praises of St. Dominic, just as the dominican divine St. Thomas Aquinas had related the story of St. Francis in the preceding canto. [96] We have used Miss Lockhart's translation of St. Bonaventure's _Legenda Santa Francisci_. [97] J. Ruskin, _Mornings in Florence_, iii. Before the Soldan. [98] xi. _Paradiso_, Cary's translation. [99] Dante, _Paradiso_, xi., Cary's translation. [100] A comparison may be made between the long and slender body of the saint here with that in the death of St. Francis in Sta. Croce, where the body is firmly drawn and of more massive proportions.