Through the loveliest Arcadian scenery of woods and fields and rushing
waters the road leads downward from Varese to Castiglione. The
Collegiate Church stands on a leafy hill above the town, with fair
prospect over groves and waterfalls and distant mountains. Here in the
choir is a series of frescos by Masolino da Panicale, the master of
Masaccio, who painted them about the year 1428. "Masolinus de Florentia
pinxit" decides their authorship. The histories of the Virgin, St.
Stephen, and St. Lawrence are represented; but the injuries of time and
neglect have been so great that it is difficult to judge them fairly.
All we feel for certain is that Masolino had not yet escaped from the
traditional Giottesque mannerism. Only a group of Jews stoning Stephen
and Lawrence before the tribunal remind us by dramatic energy of the
Brancacci chapel.
The baptistery frescos, dealing with the legend of St. John, show a
remarkable advance; and they are luckily in better preservation. A
soldier lifting his two-handed sword to strike off the Baptist's head is
a vigorous figure full of Florentine realism. Also in the Baptism in
Jordan we are reminded of Masaccio by an excellent group of bathers--one
man taking off his hose, another putting them on again, a third standing
naked with his back turned, and a fourth shivering half-dressed with a
look of curious sadness on his face. The nude has been carefully studied
and well realized. The finest composition of this series is a large
panel representing a double action--Salome at Herod's table begging for
the Baptist's head, and then presenting it to her mother Herodias. The
costumes are _quattrocento_ Florentine, exactly rendered. Salome is a
graceful, slender creature; the two women who regard her offering to
Herodias with mingled curiosity and horror are well conceived. The
background consists of a mountain landscape in Masaccio's simple manner,
a rich Renaissance villa, and an open loggia. The architecture
perspective is scientifically accurate, and a frieze of boys with
garlands on the villa is in the best manner of Florentine sculpture. On
the mountain-side, diminished in scale, is a group of elders burying the
body of St. John. These are massed together and robed in the style of
Masaccio, and have his virile dignity of form and action. Indeed, this
interesting wall-painting furnishes an epitome of Florentine art, in its
intentions and achievements, during the first half of the fifteenth
century. The color is strong and brilliant, and the execution solid.
The margin of the Salome panel has been used for scratching the
chronicle of Castiglione. I read one date, 1568, several of the next
century, the record of a duel between two gentlemen, and many
inscriptions to this effect "Erodiana Regina," "Omnia praetereunt," etc.
A dirty, one-eyed fellow keeps the place. In my presence he swept the
frescos over with a scratchy broom, flaying their upper surface in
profound unconsciousness of mischief. The armor of the executioner has
had its steel colors almost rubbed off by this infernal process. Damp
and cobwebs are far kinder.