Library, which contains the most valuable collection of MSS. in Italy,
the Vatican alone excepted. Among these is the seventh-century MS. of
the Vulgate Bible, written by Ceolfrid Abbot of Jarrow. At the corner of
the Piazza de S. Lorenzo is a fountain surmounted by a statue of
Giovanni delle Bande Nere, leader of the "Black Hand," whose son became
the Grand Duke Cosimo I. Opposite this fountain is the magnificent
palace of the Medici, the Palazzo Riccardi. From its beautiful
_cortile_, with reliefs by Donatello, a fine staircase leads up to the
big hall that has a ceiling painted by Luca Giordano. The palace was
built by Michelozzo for Cosimo, who lavished his wealth to such an
extent that the title he acquired of _Pater Patriæ_ was perhaps no
misnomer. By the same profuse expenditure his grandson Lorenzo became
known as Lorenzo il Magnifico. The family of Medici appears in the
chronicles of Florence towards the end of the twelfth century; but the
first member to lay claim to any distinction was Salvestro, who took a
prominent part in the revolt of the _Ciompi_ in 1378. The leader of this
insurrection was Michele di Landi, a _ciompo_ or wool-carder. Giovanni,
the banker, amassed the great wealth which enabled his son Cosimo to
carry out his ambitions.
Apart from the Capella Medicea the church of S. Croce may be looked upon
as the Westminster Abbey of Florence. In it is the tomb of the great
master who created "Dawn and Twilight." The monument to Michael Angelo
Buonarotti is the work of Vasari. Alas! one cannot but lament that the
irony of Fate has ordained the resting-place of genius should stand
against a wall on which are painted red curtains! Not only red curtains,
but a hideous red canopy with gold tassels drawn aside by vulgar little
abominations in the shape of fat cherubs. For once, one longs for the
whitewash brush. The cenotaph of Dante is placed close to the beautiful
Renaissance tomb of Leonardo Bruni. The recumbent figure of the
diplomatist lies stretched out on a slab borne by eagles, and represents
real repose in a marvellous manner. The red brick floor of the church
is almost covered with tomb slabs, some still in good relief, others
worn flat. Among them is that of John Ketterick, Bishop of Exeter, who
died in Florence in 1419 when on an embassy for his sovereign.
The airy interior of S. Croce is very fine. Slender octagonal columns of
a russet hue bear pointed arches with Italian-Gothic capitals. The
aisles have wooden roofs. The glass in the windows is good; and the
chapels at the east end and in the transepts are covered with most
interesting frescoes by Giotto, Taddeo and Agnolo Gaddi and others. S.
Croce is still served by the Black Conventuals, a sub-order of S.
Francis. The cloisters attached to the monastery were designed by
Arnolfo di Cambio, and through them one reaches the Capella Pazzi, one
of Brunelleschi's best buildings. The fine portico with its colonnade of
Ionic columns has a frieze of cherubs attributed to Donatello. The
entrance to the cloisters is from the Piazza S. Croce, the buildings on
the south side of which are typical of old Florence. The upper storeys
of these grey-brown walls overhang and are supported by huge wooden
cantilevers. One house, the Palazzo di Niccolo dell' Antela, is covered
with allegorical paintings by Giovanni da S. Giovanni, and on it is a
white marble disc that marked the goal in the game of _calcio_. The
Piazza, which is one of the largest in the city, was in bygone days the
public games-ground.
Another fine church of one of the great preaching Orders is S. Maria
Novella, which stands in the piazza of the same name, not far from the
railway station. The façade is a very clever adaptation by the genius
who planned the transformation of "Il Tempio" in Rimini, Leo Battista
Alberti. In S. Maria Novella he fitted Renaissance ideas to the earlier
Gothic construction of the arcades and lower portions of the buildings.
Like all Dominican churches the nave is disproportionately large, built
always thus to accommodate the great congregations who flocked to hear
the sermon; and so that all could hear, the pulpit was placed nearer the
west than the east end. In the sixteenth century Vasari altered the
interior and took away the marble screen that divided the conventual
from the public part of the church. It stood where a couple of steps run
right across the church at the fourth bay of the nave. This is lofty,
with a groined vault and pointed arches. The transepts have lateral
chapels and the choir is very shallow. One of these chapels is that of
the Rucellai family, whose coat of arms with an inflated sail has been
used with as good an effect by Alberti in the decoration of the façade
as the Malatesta coat at Rimini, where it will be remembered the little
elephants play so important a part in his scheme. In this chapel is the
famous panel, the so-called Cimabue's "Madonna," which some critics
attribute to Duccio da Siena. Speaking personally, however, I failed to
discover the greenish undertones that are a feature in Duccio's work.
The story tells us that when the picture left Cimabue's studio it was
hailed by the people in the streets with great admiration and holy
fervour. Attached to the west wall of the church are the cloisters. The
Chiostro Verde, so called from the greenish colour of its frescoes,
contains the Spanish chapel. One can here spend a very instructive
morning examining the fine mural decorations that cover the walls. The
Chiostro Grande is now a military gymnasium; but the upper part is
devoted to the Institution for Deaf Mutes and the Society for Repressing
Beggars. Many useful articles can here be purchased that are made by the
very poor. Tourists, make a note!
There is another useful institution, and one perhaps that is much better
known. The Spedale degli Innocenti, or Foundling Hospital, which admits
infants without any inquiry, and when the children are old enough boards
them out in peasant families, where they are trained to earn a
livelihood. The hospital is the work of Brunelleschi. In the spandrils
of the _loggia_ are the medallions of infants in blue and white by
Andrea della Robbia, reproductions of which hang on many a wall
throughout the civilised world.
Not far off is the monastery of S. Marco, the cloistered courts of which
once ran red with the blood of the monks. Fra Angelico's intensely
religious frescoes in the monastic cells surely helped to inspire the
brethren to defend their home by force of arms against those who were
determined to eradicate every vestige of their beloved Savonarola. A few
relics of this great democrat are still to be seen in his cell. The
writing-desk he used, a book of commentaries in his own minute hand, his
crucifix and other personal objects, remain as silent witnesses of the
fierce struggles in a mind brought to the lowest depths of despair and
well-nigh prostrate when the last act was accomplished in the Piazza
della Signoria.
Of the many great Florentine palaces the two that hold the incomparable
collections of pictures are the best known. The Uffizi stands on one
side of the river, the Pitti on the other. Emulating the lavish
expenditure of their rivals, the Medici, the Pitti family employed
Brunelleschi and Fancelli to erect a building which should outshine all
the Medicean palaces in Florence. So much was spent on it that
eventually the family were ruined, and Fate, that so often plays with
the over-ambitious, ordained that their rivals should step in and
purchase the huge building. The Grand-dukes of the Medici took up their
residence in the building, part of which is now the Royal Palace. From
the beautiful Boboli Gardens at the back, a very good view is obtained
of the cathedral and Giotto's Campanile, with Fiesole and the mountains
in the north rising beyond. But if we wish for a comprehensive
impression of Florence as she lies in the valley of the Arno, we must
ascend the hill on the top of which the church of S. Miniato al Monte
stands. Beneath the cypress trees at our feet the classic stream,
crossed by its famous bridges, winds away in the direction of the Monti
Pisani. The great dome of the Cathedral seems almost out of proportion
with the lesser landmarks around it. More than ever does one wish to see
the spire that Giotto designed to finish his grand bell-tower. And as
the eye wanders over roofs and embattled walls, the mind goes back to
Medicean days, ignoring for once the utilitarian vandalism that has
carried the noisy tramcar through the intricacies of the maze below us
in desecration of the memorials of a great age.
[Illustration: THE DUOMO, FLORENCE, FROM THE BOBOLI GARDENS]
PERUGIA
In the vicinity of Perugia many remains of Etruscan civilisation have
come to light, and part of the old Etruscan city walls still stand. On
top of the huge blocks of stone of which they are composed one may also
see the defensive superstructure added by the Romans, and above this the
red brick of a later date. Wandering in the older parts of the city,
where the houses are terraced on the steep hill-slopes and the narrow
streets, often burrowing under them, wind sinuously in and out, one is
carried right back without an effort into mediæval times. Neither does
it require any effort to picture the sanguinary faction fights between
the great Perugian families, the Oddi and Baglioni. Niccolò Pisano's
last work, the figures on the fountain by the steps of the Cathedral,
and the unfinished wall of the building itself, are to-day just as they
were in the fifteenth century when these same steps ran red with blood
in the accomplishment of the diabolical plot which wiped out a whole
family, save one. So tired of these conflicts were the more law-abiding
Perugians after this deed, or so surfeited with blood, that the might
of the Church Militant was called in to put an end to all distracting
feuds. The advent of Pope Paul III. was looked upon at the time as a
real deliverance; but the crafty Pontiff, knowing the hornet's nest he
came into, was sagacious enough to build for himself a fortress-palace
in an impregnable position. This, the Rocca Paolina, stood partly on the
ground at the end of the Corso Vannucci where a big hotel is now, and on
the garden space in front of it. The visitor to Perugia can never forget
the incomparable view from the wall of this garden; nor wonder, when he
looks over the veritable precipice beneath it, that the Baglioni, whose
palace was demolished to make way for Paul's fortress, could hold in
terror the rest of Perugia from the security afforded by their own
walls. Perugia is like an octopus, with a central hill on which the
Cathedral is situated, and from which long feelers stretch out in all
directions. A statue in a public garden at the end of one of these
feelers, or, more correctly speaking, promontories, commemorates the
expulsion of the Swiss Papal Guard by General Fanti in 1860. The city
then joined the newly formed kingdom of Italy and made an end of the
Church's supremacy by demolishing the Rocca Paolina.
[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL AND OLD TOWN, PERUGIA]
It is rather extraordinary that when the strife between the nobles of
Perugia was at its height art was in the most flourishing condition.
Fashion, or perhaps the hall-mark of the "gentleman" of those days,
dictated that he should patronise art. We see this in the records of all
the great families of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; and
however bloodthirsty and revengeful they were amongst themselves, they
had this one great merit. And so we find that while the Oddi were
slaying the Baglioni, Perugino, Pinturicchio, Raphael, and Signorelli
were all at work in Umbria, where one half of the people seem to have
given up their lives to bloodshed and the other half to the
contemplation of sweet-faced Madonnas and paintings of religious
fervour.
In the middle of this ancient city stands its Cathedral, but, alas! with
no redeeming architectural feature, either outside or within. The
exterior reminds one of the tale of the man who, having made a little
money, built a house like a cube with windows, telling his friends that
when he could afford it he would have the architecture put on. All that
can be said about its outer walls is that if the design of pink marble
quatrefoil slabs had been carried out and finished, it would have looked
even worse than it does now.
The bronze statue of Pope Julius III. on the south façade was erected by
the subscriptions of the people to show their appreciation for the
restitution of those privileges of which they had been deprived by the
builder of the Rocca Paolina. It is placed on one side of a door, and on
the other side the pulpit, put up for the use of S. Bernardino of Siena,
who came to Perugia to preach peace and allay the feuds of the nobles,
is a sort of pendant.
Ten octagonal columns, painted to represent marble, stand in the nave
and support the Gothic groined vaulting which springs from gilded
Corinthian capitals. The first bay on the south side is enclosed by a
good iron grille. Within is the Capella del S. Anello, containing
Perugia's most sacred relic, the wedding-ring of the Blessed Virgin.
This was filched one day from Chiusi, the pleasant little town where one
so often changes trains on the way from Rome. To prevent a repetition of
the theft it has, since its arrival in Perugia, been enclosed in a
reliquary that can be opened only by fifteen different keys kept by
fifteen different citizens. The Capella de S. Bernardino occupies the
opposite bay of the north aisle. The choir is a five-sided apse, round
which are the canons' stalls of good _intarsia_ work. The central of the
three windows is almost filled by the organ loft, and the choir gallery
is above the stalls. In the north transept a little door in an almost
hidden angle of the wall opens out into the cloisters. Of the two
courts the inner, with two galleries, is a very picturesque and quiet
spot. Creepers come trailing down the walls, flowers in boxes add a
touch of colour, and the cooing of doves gave one the idea that here at
any rate, in the precincts of a sanctuary, was a haven of rest from the
brawling world outside. The Cathedral library has a great treasure in
the possession of the Codex of St. Luke of the sixth century. It is
bound in silver and written in letters of gold on purple-coloured
vellum--a splendid combination.
Not many of Perugia's churches can rejoice to-day in the preservation of
their original state. Those attached to the disendowed monasteries are
now mostly barracks, and others have been restored or propped up as a
consequence of intermittent earthquakes that developed great cracks in
their walls. Coming through the Porta Susanna, the lowest part of which
is Etruscan masonry put together without any cement, one leaves the
ancient city behind, and, turning to the right, sees across the vacant
Piazza de S. Francesco the gem of Perugia's ecclesiastical architecture.
The little oratory of S. Bernardino stands adjoining the ruined church
of St. Francis. The lovely façade of this tiny building is by Agostino
Ducci, who built it in marble and terra-cotta. Its two doors are
enclosed by a rounded archway, in the tympanum of which is a figure of
our Lord in Glory with two archangels. S. Bernardino is beneath. Around
him are many angels who sing to the accompaniment of the musical
instruments on which they play. Beyond the angels are two rows of
cherubims with heavenly faces. The ground colour of the tympanum on
which all these delicately modelled bas-reliefs stand was evidently at
one time a gorgeous blue and gold. It has faded to a beautiful "broken"
cerulean. The jambs of the portal are green serpentine, and contain
three figures of angels on each side. They carry implements of husbandry
and agriculture. Six panels on the façade have more angels with musical
instruments. Arabesques cover the posts of the portal, and laurel is
carved on them as well. Four terra-cotta saints occupy niches; under
these are scenes in higher relief illustrating events in the life of S.
Bernardino. In one he is depicted saving a boy from a watery grave. The
delicate pink and warm opaque yellow of the terra-cotta, the white
marble and green serpentine, and the exquisite note of blue, with traces
over all of faded and half-obliterated gilding, make this gem one of the
best pieces of external colouring to be met with in Italy.
[Illustration: THE PORTA SUSANNA, PERUGIA]
One finds a church situated at the extremity of each of Perugia's
promontories. The Romanesque church just outside the S. Costanza Gate is
well worth a visit, if it be only to look at its eastern portal.
Slender, twisted pillars of marble support the architrave, on which is a
central figure of Christ seated in a circle. On either side are the
saint with a dove, and a lion with a gryphon. Elegant pilasters are
carried from the steps up above the architrave. They are carved with
quaint trees growing out of monsters, and support goats and other
animals. Leo XIII., when Bishop of Perugia, restored the façade, but
very judiciously left this portal alone. Crosses and other Christian
symbols in terra-cotta are the fruit of the restoration. On to all
these--in fact, wherever they could find a purchase--the mason-bees have
settled and built their nests. The drowsy hum from the busy little
colony adds much to the pleasure of a reverie as one sits on the steps
of the doorway and looks across the vale to Assisi, baking in the sun,
and to the scarred mountains beyond.
The never-completed church of S. Domenico, which Giovanni Pisano
designed as a Gothic building, contains a grand Gothic monument by that
master. The figure of Pope Benedict XI., who died by eating poisoned
figs, lies on his sarcophagus behind curtains which two charming figures
draw aside. The fine Gothic canopy of the tomb is supported by twisted
columns inlaid with _tesseræ_ in the same style as the pillars in the
portico of Lucca's cathedral.
The Benedictine church of S. Pietro would have been a very impressive
basilica had not every inch of its walls been covered by poor frescoes
and huge canvases of mediocre paintings. The nave is simple, with a good
coffered roof. In one of the aisle chapels there is a very beautiful
altar by that delightful artist, Mino da Fiesole; and the tabernacle
over the high altar is a good example of marble work. It is surmounted
by bronze figures standing at the angles round the base of its little
cupola. The magnificent reading-desk is also worthy of note. It rests on
a table with good carved panels illustrating events in S. Peter's life.
[Illustration: THE PIAZZA GARIBALDI, PERUGIA]
One of the finest Domestic Gothic façades in Italy is that of the
Palazzo Pubblico. A grand doorway of clustered and twisted columns
ornamented with arabesques gives on to the Corso Vannucci. Above the
portal are the city's three protectors, SS. Lorenzo, Ercolano, and
Costanza. By their sides and overhanging the pavement, on brackets, are
two huge gryphons holding a sheep and a calf. Within the building are
the Municipal Offices, and on the third floor the _pinacoteca_, on the
walls of which hang some of Perugino's best work. The façade, which
faces the Piazza del Duomo, has a fine flight of steps leading to
an entrance on the first floor. Above this are two more gryphons in
bronze and a lion. Depending from the gryphons is the great chain and
bar which were captured from the Sienese. Three fine arches support a
_loggia_, outside which is a pulpit, removed hither from the demolished
church of S. Salvatore. This side of the Palazzo is the oldest part of
the building, preceding in construction that which is in the Corso
Vanucci by fifty years. A third part, that was added in 1429 for the
Bankers' Guild, is known as the Collegio del Cambio. The great hall
inside is decorated with very good examples of Perugino's brush, and has
a marvellous ceiling covered with arabesques and medallions by his
pupils. Carved stalls and benches of walnut wood with _intarsia_ work,
and fine doors, complete an _ensemble_ which is one of the best examples
of an early Renaissance interior.
The old Piazza del Sopra Mura, so called because the buildings on one
side were erected on the Etruscan walls, has been renamed the Piazza
Garibaldi. A statue of the hero may be seen in the illustration. On the
right of the sketch, built on the walls, is the Palazzo del Capitano del
Popolo, at present the Assize Court. Its Gothic façade has a good porch
and a _ringheria_, or balcony. The _piazza_ is one of the best "bits" in
this quaint old city, and when filled with market folk haggling over
bargains under their umbrellas is a typical Italian scene in a typical
Italian setting.
There are not many places in Italy that boast so fine a view as Perugia
can from the garden where once stood the Baglioni's palace. In winding
lines directly beneath one a road, buttressed up by great blocks of
masonry, now leads downhill to the station. To our left is a mat of
grey-brown roofs, out of which rise hundreds of curiously shaped
chimneys. Heavy stones keep some of the roof tiles in place. A necessary
precaution, for, although these are laid three deep, a storm of extra
violence is apt to whisk them away by scores. Glimpses of delicious
walled-in gardens and old conventual courtyards nestling behind high
walls break the colour of our brown mat with relieving patches of green.
Bell towers and a spire or two rear themselves out of the harmoniously
coloured network and catch the early sun like beacons. Tortuous alleys
appear and disappear amidst this delightful chaos, and little figures
like ants may be seen labouring up the steep slopes. A sudden jump in
colour from brown to green and the eye has leapt a thousand feet or more
to the vast and fertile plain beyond. Shadows thrown by fleecy clouds,
with which from our height, we seem to be on a level, chase one another
over the emerald carpet. Little hills, covered with trees, appear as
flat as the plain below. Dark cypresses and pines cluster round the
farms and homesteads that punctuate the landscape with white dots. Long
thin ribbons of the same colour tell where the main roads run to Assisi,
to Foligno, to Rome or Orvieto. As the eye travels on, the emerald
merges imperceptibly into green of a blueish tinge. Hills twenty miles
away rise in a purple mass under the shadow of the clouds above. But
what a perfect canopy the sky is! The sun pierces the well-ordered
battalions that are moving across it from the west, and with long,
straight rays strikes the windings of the river that runs on to the
Eternal City and flows out to sea. Far away, through the yellow haze
that throws the purple hills into such bold relief, are shadowed forms
rising tier above tier in the mystery of distant sunlight. The snowy
crests of Italy's central chain toss themselves up to heaven, hardly
distinguishable from the farthest mass of the marching hosts of the sky.
Yes, truly an unforgettable view, and one which the Baglioni of old,
from their castle windows, must have drunk in with pride. Well nigh as
far as their eye reached the country owed them allegiance.
ASSISI
Of all the wonderful hill towns of Italy, Assisi can claim a kind of
pre-eminence in saintship and monasticism. The delicate finger of time
has touched lightly and lovingly the little mediæval fortress which gave
to the world S. Francis and S. Chiara. One might say that every stone in
the place is saturated with the memory of the former and sweetened by
the recollection of the saintly woman who outlived him many years. The
life of S. Francis of Assisi is one of the most enthralling tales in the
history of the saints. He, who was the son of a rich cloth merchant, and
up to the age of twenty-four had led a gay and vicious life, has left to
humanity one of the greatest examples of charity, humility and chastity
that the world has ever seen.
As one approaches the quiet little place, the first thing to attract is
the great church of S. Maria degli Angeli, built over the Porziuncula.
This, a small chapel, was presented to S. Francis by the Benedictines of
Mte Subacio, and is the scene of the closing years of his life and his
death. A fine altarpiece by Andrea della Robbia in the north transept
shows the saint receiving the _stigmata_, or wounds of our Lord's
Passion. Pope Pius V. raised the cupola that is directly over the spot
where S. Francis expired. The charming little garden where the saint
cultivated his plants and medicinal herbs adjoins the sacristy; and
there still flourish in it the thornless roses of the legend. Two years
after the death of S. Francis, the immense building that rises on a
massive substructure was commenced by Gregory IX. The great convent and
two churches, one above the other, that seem from below as solid as the
rocks beyond, were erected over the saint's grave. S. Francis, when
dying, expressed a wish to be interred outside the city walls; but his
disciples, so we are led to believe, carried his body up secretly two
years later, and placed it in a sarcophagus, which was found imbedded in
the rock in the year 1818. It had lain there inviolate for six hundred
years.