ASSISI--SANTA MARIA DEGLI ANGELI
It is better, perhaps, after visiting Chiesa Nuova, to go next to St.
Mary of the Angels at the foot of the hill, instead of visiting San
Francesco, the saint's memorial church; for at the Portioncula, within
the walls of Santa Maria, Francis lived and worked and died. Most of
the Brothers whose names have come down to us were received into the
Order within the walls of the little chapel.
The vast baldness of Santa Maria's nave, rebuilt less than a hundred
years ago, in consequence of the damage caused by an earthquake, was
very uninteresting, but at the east end is the brown Portioncula, the
home of Francis and of his first followers; for the little chapel
remained uninjured when the earthquake shattered the walls of the
outer church.
The dark walls of the Portioncula are covered with votive offerings,
and over the entrance is a fresco by Overbeck. Looking within, it is
difficult to imagine how the events recorded in the _Fioretti_ could
have found room to happen in the tiny place.
On the right is a chapel, the site of the cell of St. Francis; his
portrait is over the altar, and there are frescoes of his companions.
Our guide, a Franciscan, looked as if he had come direct from the
thirteenth century, but he had not brought thence the warm, loving
glow that must have radiated from the founder of his Order.
The great interest of the place is its story. The Portioncula was a
well-known shrine, and had existed for years before Francis restored
it from its ruinous condition. It has been told how, when he was a
child, the saint was often taken by his mother to the little chapel,
and prayed there beside her. Two years after he renounced his home and
his father, Francis was kneeling here in prayer when he received his
second inspiration. According to his biographers, he hastily rose,
and, taking up a bit of cord near at hand, tied it round his waist, as
the outward badge of the Order of Poor Brethren.
Our guide's scanty hair stood erect, and his red-veined blue eyes
stared at us, as the Gorgons did in the Etruscan tomb. At first he
would scarcely speak. He may have thought heretics would not
appreciate his information. When we came to the little rose-garden
outside the Chapel of the Roses, and talked to him about flowers, he
thawed; he told us how an unbelieving English traveller had begged a
rose-tree, so that he might try it in English soil, and how next year
the Englishman had written to say that the rose-tree was covered with
thorns; whereas at Santa Maria degli Angeli, these roses, brought here
from St. Benedict's monastery near Subiaco, have been thornless ever
since the day when St. Francis carried the original bushes from the
Benedictine garden at Il Sacro Speco, and planted them here.
Our guide said we ought to pay our next visit when the roses were in
blossom, "a sight to be met with in no other place." He took us into a
chapel, where, under the altar, is the den into which the saint
retired for penance--a most wretched hole; then we went into the
sacristy, to see a Perugino. In another little chapel is the portrait
of El Poverello, a very remarkable face, painted on a plank which once
formed part of the saint's bed. There is a terra-cotta statue of him
by Andrea della Robbia.
We went back to the church, and looked again at the Portioncula. In
it Clara, or Chiara, took the vows, and here her beautiful hair was
shorn from her head by St. Francis. Other memories of Santa Chiara
cling about this church of Santa Maria. Perhaps the Third, or
universal, Order was here determined on. The space outside has never
been built on, because it was here that the memorable meeting took
place between Clara and St. Francis, in answer to her repeated
petitions that they might eat bread together. The meeting is very
quaintly described in _I Fioretti_. Clara had often asked for this
privilege; this time the Brothers seconded her request, and Francis
granted it. He had, as soon as was possible, obtained for her the
little church of San Damiano, and had built up little huts beside it
for her and the poor ladies, who so soon joined her community. Clara
passed the rest of her life among the Sisters, and died Abbess of the
"Poor Clares" of San Damiano.
The community of Brethren met on the open space twice yearly; the
great chapter of the Order convened by St. Francis eleven years after
its beginning, recorded in the _Fioretti_, took place on this vacant
ground. The number of the brethren must have increased very rapidly,
for several thousands came over the hills and along the valleys from
far-off parts of Italy to look their founder in the face, and to
receive his instructions and his blessing. Among others came San
Dominic, with some of his followers, and the Bishop of Ostia, Cardinal
Ugolino, afterwards Pope Gregory IX.
The space occupied by Santa Maria must have been covered by the
village of huts built by St. Francis and his Brothers. In an old map,
these huts are shown built at regular distances on three sides of the
Portioncula; among them is one larger than the rest, probably the
Refectory or the Infirmary of the Brothers. Doubtless they lived here
a happy family life, though Francis began early to send them out to
found branches of the Order in other directions. The first sent away
from the nest-like home was Bernard of Quintavalle, to Bologna; here
he had to suffer insult and persecution, but he soon won many converts
by his preaching, and established a community of Brothers Minor in
that city, over which Francis appointed him guardian. This enterprise
was repeated over and over again, with success, till, in his hunger
after souls, several years later, El Poverello set forth with a couple
of Brothers to Damietta to convert the Soldan, who is said to have
permitted him to visit the Holy Sepulchre. His visit failed in its
object, but it is spoken of by Jacques de Vitry, Bishop of Acre, as a
fact.
He was never tired of exhorting his brethren to live joyfully, so as
to make others happy. Their cares and the sorrow for sin which would
from time to time beset them, they should, he told them, pour out to
God in their prayers; he also exhorted them to live always according
to the Rule of the Order.
The Popes seem to have troubled him by their persistent efforts to
persuade him to alter the extreme simplicity of this Rule, and to
assimilate his teaching with that of the other Orders. But St.
Francis, always most humble and gentle in his denials, pleaded so
earnestly and so sweetly for the original lines on which he had begun,
that he succeeded in gaining his point both with Innocent the Third,
and his successor Honorius. Even his dear friend Ugolino, the Cardinal
Bishop of Ostia, tried hard, when he succeeded to the Papacy as Pope
Gregory the Ninth, to convince El Poverello that union with the
Dominican Order would be a gain to the Church, but the saint's sweet
humility at last conquered Ugolino. These discussions, however, which
made needful journeys to and from Rome, involved much loss of time,
as well as mental weariness, and wore out his decreasing strength.
He was, after a time, constantly suffering, but always cheerful and
uncomplaining. His greatest trial seems to have been the tendency he
saw, especially in the more recent converts, to relax the strictness
of the Rule in regard to Poverty; when he heard, during a journey
which would take him past Bologna, that larger and more comfortable
houses had been built for the Brethren there, he at once showed his
displeasure by passing by the city without stopping to greet the
Franciscans therein.
He always returned with fresh joy to the Portioncula, and his life
there with his dear sons; a hard life, supported by the work of their
own hands.
The gentle saint seems to have had plenty of dignity when called on to
rebuke a wrongful act; we see this in his dealings with one of his
early converts, Brother Juniper, that delightfully simple but most
indiscreet of the Minor Brothers, yet of whom Francis said, after
pondering on his simplicity and patience in the hour of trial:
"Would to God that I had a whole forest of such Junipers."
Indeed, on that day Brother Juniper was in sad disgrace with the other
monks. He was visiting a sick Brother, and, being afire with the love
of God, asked the sick man with much compassion, "Can I do thee any
service?"
Replied the sick man:
"Much comfort would it give me if thou couldst get me a pig's
trotter."
Straightway cried Brother Juniper:
"Leave that to me; you shall have one directly."
So he went and took a knife from the kitchen, and in fervour of spirit
ran through the wood in which certain pigs were feeding; he threw
himself on one of them, cut off its foot and ran away. Returning to
the house, he washed and dressed and cooked the foot; and when, with
much diligence, he had prepared it, he brought the foot right lovingly
to the sick man.
And the sick man ate it up greedily, to the great comfort and delight
of Brother Juniper, who with glee told his invalid how he had made
assault upon the pig.
Meanwhile the swineherd, who saw Brother Juniper cut off the foot,
went and told all the story to his lord, who, when he was ware of it,
came to the house of the Brothers, crying out that they were
hypocrites and thieves and knaves.
"Why have ye cut off my pig's foot?" he shouted.
At the noise he made, St. Francis and the Brothers came out, and with
all humility the saint made excuses, and promised to make reparation
for the outrage.
But for all that he was no whit appeased, but with much insult and
threats went away from the Brothers, full of anger.
And St. Francis bethought him, and said within his heart, "Can Brother
Juniper in his indiscreet zeal have done this thing?"
He called Juniper to him secretly, and said:
"Didst thou cut off the foot of a pig in the wood?"
Whereat Brother Juniper, not as if he had committed a crime, but as if
he had done a deed of charity, answered cheerfully:
"It is true, dear Father, I cut off that pig's foot. Touching the
reason why, I went out of charity to visit a sick Brother." He then
narrated the facts, and added, "I tell thee, Father, that, considering
the comfort given by the said foot to our Brother, if I had cut off
the feet of a hundred pigs as I did of one, in very sooth methinks God
would have said, 'Well done.'"
Whereat St. Francis said very severely, and with righteous zeal:
"Brother Juniper, why hast thou caused so great a scandal? Not
without reason doth this man complain of us; he is perhaps already
noising it in the city. Wherefore I command thee, by thy obedience,
that thou run after him till thou come up with him, and throw thyself
on the ground, and confess thy fault, promising to make such
satisfaction that he may have no cause to complain of us, for of a
truth this has been too grievous an offence."
Brother Juniper marvelled much at the words, being surprised that
anyone should be angry at so charitable a deed. He answered:
"Doubt not, Father, that I will straightway pacify him; why should he
be so disquieted, seeing that this pig was rather God's than his, and
that great charity hath been done thereby?"
Francis was constantly journeying about, preaching in all the villages
through which they passed, as well as in the castles which frowned
down on them, founding new houses of the Order in and near the larger
towns; he travelled great distances, and carried everywhere with him
the element of joy, showing it forth in the lovely hymns which he and
his Brothers carolled along the high-road to lighten the fatigue of
their journeys.
Reading the _Fioretti_, one feels intimately acquainted with several
of the Brothers Minor,--with gentle Fra Leone, "the little sheep of
God"; with Fra Rufino, styled by Francis "one of the three most holy
souls in the world"; with Fra Masseo, who seems, in one recorded
instance, to have affected incredulity in regard to the saint's
humility.
In those days the Portioncula and its village were surrounded by a
wood, and St. Francis often said his prayers therein; one day as he
came from them, he was met at the entrance of the wood by Fra Masseo
of Marignano, a man of much sanctity, discretion, and grace, for the
which cause St. Francis loved him much.
Said Masseo, "Why to thee? Why to thee? Why to thee?"
Quoth Francis, "What is thy meaning?"
Brother Masseo answered:
"I say, why doth all the world come straight to thee? and why do all
men long to see thee, to hear thee, and obey thee? Thou art not a man
comely to look at, thou hast not much learning, thou art not noble:
whence is it, then, that to thee the whole world comes?"
Hearing this, St. Francis, all overjoyed in spirit, lifting up his
face to Heaven, stood for a great while wrapped in meditation.
Anon returning to himself again, he knelt him down, and rendered
thanks and praises unto God; and then with great fervour of spirit he
turned him to Brother Masseo, and said:
"Wilt thou know why to me? Wilt thou know why to me? Wilt thou know
why to me the whole world doth run? This cometh unto me from the eyes
of the most High God, which behold in every place the evil and the
good: for those most holy eyes have seen among sinners none more vile,
none more lacking, no worse sinner than I.... Therefore hath He chosen
me to confound the nobleness and the strength and the greatness and
the beauty and wisdom of the world, to the intent that men may know
that all virtue and all goodness come from Him, and not from the
creature, and that no man may glory in himself; but whoso will glory
may glory in the Lord."
He often told his Brothers they must never forsake the Portioncula,
which he and they also so dearly loved. But his strength was almost
spent, and when he was only forty-two, two years before his death, he
appointed Brother Bernard vicar-general of the Order, so that he might
give himself up more completely to meditation and prayer before the
end came.
He had founded a community near Rome, and appointed a good and
discreet Guardian thereto; but this Brother seems to have had some
difficulty in controlling the outbreaks of Brother Juniper, who had
been sent to this Roman home.
There came a time when all the other Brethren had to go out.
Quoth the Guardian, "Brother Juniper, we are all going out; see to it
that when we return you have cooked a little food for the refreshment
of the Brothers."
Replied Brother Juniper, "Right willingly; leave that to me."
Said Brother Juniper to himself, "It is a pity that one Brother should
always have to be in the kitchen, instead of saying prayers with the
rest. Of a surety, now that I am left behind to cook, I will make
ready so much food that all the Brothers will have enough for a
fortnight, and the cook will have less to do."
So he went with all diligence into the country, and begged several
large cooking pots; he got also meat, fowls, eggs, vegetables, and
firewood in plenty; then he put all the eatables in the pots to cook,
to wit, the fowls with their feathers on, the eggs in their shells,
and so with the rest.
After a while the Brothers came back to the home, and one of them
going to the kitchen, saw many great pots on an enormous fire; he sat
him down and looked on with amazement, but said nothing, watching the
care with which Brother Juniper did his cooking, and how he hurried
from one pot to the other. Having watched it all with great delight,
the Brother left the kitchen, and, finding the other Friars, said to
them:
"I have to tell you Brother Juniper is making a marriage feast." But
the Brothers took his word as a jest.
Presently Brother Juniper lifted the pots from the fire, and rang the
dinner bell. The Brothers sat down to table, and he came into the
refectory with his dishes, red-faced with his exertions.
Quoth he, "Eat well, and then let us all go and pray: no one need
think of the kitchen for a while; I have cooked enough food for a
fortnight."
And Brother Juniper set his stew on the table. But there is not a pig
in the whole countryside that would have partaken of it.
Then Juniper, seeing that the Brothers did not eat thereof, said:
"These fowls are strengthening for the brain, and this stew is so good
it will refresh the body." But while the Brothers were full of wonder
at his simplicity, the Guardian was wroth with the waste of so much
good food, and reproved him roughly.
Then Brother Juniper threw himself on the ground and humbly confessed
his fault, saying, "I am the worst of men."
After this he went sorrowfully out of the refectory. The Guardian,
touched by his humility, asked the Brethren to be kind to Juniper, who
had, with good intentions, erred through ignorance.
Such pity had Brother Juniper for the poor, that when he saw anyone
ill-clad or naked he would at once take off his tunic, and the cowl of
his cloak, and give it to the beggar.
Wherefore the Guardian commanded him that he should give to no poor
person his tunic or any part of his habit.
Now it happened that a few days after, he met a poor man half-naked,
who asked alms for the love of God.
"I have nothing," quoth he, "I could give thee save my tunic, and my
Superior hath enjoined me not to give it to anyone, but if thou take
it off my back I will not say thee nay."
He spoke not to the deaf, for straightway the poor man pulled his
tunic off his back and went away with it.
And when Brother Juniper returned to the house, and was asked what had
become of his tunic, he answered--
"A poor man took it off my back and went away with it." His charity
had become incessant.
More than once our gentle saint had visited La Vernia, a bleak and
rugged mountain some four thousand feet above the Casentino valley. On
these occasions, his friend the Count Orlando Cattani of Chiusi, had
caused a hut to be built for him near the hilltop. On this last visit,
Francis felt a pressing need of solitude, so that he might more
entirely give himself to prayer. He took with him the three men who
are said to have written the charming sketch of him, called, in the
French version of it, _La Légende des trois Compagnons_, Fra Leone,
Fra Masseo, and Fra Angelo.
When they had travelled for two days, Francis became so weak he could
go no farther, so the Brothers found a peasant with an ass, and
persuaded him to lend it to their teacher. In doing this they gave his
name, Francis of Assisi.
The peasant was greatly impressed, for, throughout Italy and beyond,
this name was a name of power; some way up the mountain of La Vernia,
or, as it is also called, Alvernia, the peasant leading the ass said
to its rider:
"I hear that you are Francis of Assisi; well, then, I will give you a
bit of advice: Try to be as good as people say you are, and then they
will not be deceived in you."
For answer Francis scrambled down from the ass's back, and, kneeling
before the amazed peasant, he thanked him with all his heart and soul
for his counsel.
There is a plateau at the hilltop surrounded by pines and huge
beech-trees, but before reaching this the whole party was so exhausted
by the long climb in the heat of August sunshine, that they sat down
to rest beneath the spreading branches of an oak-tree. The birds,
accustomed to live in solitude, came fluttering round them, and
settled especially on the shoulders and head of St. Francis.
When they reached the top, Francis bade his companions stay in their
customary refuge while he went on by himself. He seems to have stayed
alone, in a shelter contrived by the Brothers, for forty days, during
which Fra Leone brought every night and morning some bread and water,
which he left at the door of the refuge. A falcon used to tap at the
door at dawn to awaken St. Francis. He is said to have received the
vision of the Stigmata here on Michaelmas Day, and soon afterwards,
leaving two of the Brothers in charge of the retreat on the mount, he
took a touching leave of them, and of the place itself. He thanked the
birds who had so lovingly welcomed his arrival, and especially Brother
Falcon, as he termed it, for his daily summons.
He then took his way, on horseback this time, with as little delay as
possible, accompanied by his devoted Leo, till he reached the
Portioncula, sorely exhausted and full of pain. Still he was bent on
starting at once for the south, and seeking to win fresh souls for
Christ. His strength rapidly decreased, and his sight had begun to
fail him. He was advised to make a journey to Rieti, where Pope
Honorius, being driven out of Rome, was then staying, The Pope had
with him a famous doctor, who it was hoped might cure St. Francis. But
he had not much faith in earthly remedies, and declined to go to
Rieti; when, however, St. Clare and some of the Brethren pressed him
to spend a little time of rest and refreshment at San Damiano, he was
glad to go there.
Though he was in constant suffering, he seems really to have enjoyed
this visit. Saint Clare had caused a willow hut to be built for him in
her garden, and though at night rats and mice tormented him, his
joyousness and his poetic power returned with their early vigour; for
it was during these weeks of peaceful outer life, though blind, and
suffering from hæmorrhage of the lungs, that he composed his famous
Canticle.
It happened that one day, while seated at table in the refectory of
San Damiano, before the meal began, Francis seemed all at once to be
wrapped in a kind of ecstasy. When he roused from this, and became
fully conscious, he exclaimed, "May God be praised!"
He had just composed the Canticle of the Sun.
"Altissimu, onnipotente, bon signore,
tue so le laude, la gloria, e l'onore et onne benedictione.
Ad te solo, altissimo, se konfano
et nullu homo ene dignu te mentovare.
Laudate sie, mi signore, cum tucte le tue creature
specialmente messor lo frate sole,
lo quale jorna, et illumini per lui;
Et ellu è bellu e radiante cum grande splendore;
de te, altissimo, porta significatione.
Laudato si, mi signore, per sora luna e le stelle,
in celu l'ài formate clarite et pretiose et belle.
Laudate si, mi signore, per frate vento
et per aere et nubilo et sereno et onne tempo,
per le quale a le tue creature dai sustentamento.
Laudato si, mi signore, per sor acqua,
la quale è multo utile et humele et pretiosa et casta.
Laudato si, mi signore, per frate focu,
per lo quale enallumini la nocte,
ed ello é bello et jucundo et robustoso et forte.
Laudato si, mi signore, per sora nostra matre terra,
la quale ne sustenta et governa
et produce diversi fructi con coloriti flori et herba.
Laudato si, mi signore, per quilli ke perdonano per
lo tuo amore et sostegno infirmitate et tribulatione,
beati quilli ke sosterrano in pace,
ka da te, altissimo, sirano incoronati.
Laudato si, mi signore, per sora nostra morte corporale,
da la quale nullu homo vivente po skappare;
guai a quilli ke morrano ne le peccata mortali;
beata quilli ke se trovarà ne, le tue sanctissime voluntali,
ka la morte secunda nol farrà male.
Laudate et benedicete mi signore, et rengratiate
et serviteli cum grande humilitate."
The following is the almost literal rendering by Matthew Arnold:--
"O most High, almighty, good Lord God, to Thee belong
praise, glory, honour, and all blessing!
Praised be my Lord God, with all His creatures; and
specially our brother the Sun, who brings us the day, and
who brings us the light; fair is he, and shining with a
very great splendour: O Lord, he signifies to us Thee!
Praised be my Lord for our sister the moon, and for the
stars, which He has set clear and lovely in heaven.
Praised be our Lord for our brother the wind, and for air
and cloud, calms and all weather, by the which Thou
upholdest in life all creatures.
Praised be my Lord for our sister water, who is very
serviceable unto us, and humble, and precious, and clean.
Praised be my Lord for our brother fire, through whom Thou
givest us light in the darkness; and he is bright, and
pleasant, and very mighty and strong.
Praised be my Lord for our mother the earth, the which
doth sustain us, and keep us, and bringeth forth divers
fruits and flowers of many colours, and grass.
Praised be my Lord for all those who pardon one another
for His love's sake, and who endure weakness and
tribulation; blessed are they who peaceably shall endure,
for Thou, O most Highest, shalt give them a crown!
Praised be my Lord for our sister the death of the body,
from whom no man escapeth. Woe to him who dieth in mortal
sin! Blessed are they who are found walking in Thy most
holy will, for the second death shall have no power to do
them harm.
Praise ye and bless ye the Lord, and give thanks unto Him,
and serve Him with great humility."
He lingered many weeks at San Damiano, being greatly refreshed by the
sweet peace he found there, and his gentle and sympathetic talks with
his early convert, St. Clare, who seems to have been as capable and
practical as she was good and holy. After a while she persuaded him to
journey to Rieti, and take the advice of the doctors.
At Rieti all those who had previously known him were greatly shocked
by the change in his health. The doctors seem to have tormented him by
their efforts to restore his sight, even branding his forehead with
red-hot irons; Francis bore all with the utmost patience and
sweetness, striving to conform himself to the pattern set by his
Divine example.
When he at last set forth to return home, he could go no farther than
Assisi; Bishop Guido had sent him a pressing invitation to stay in his
palace, while a strong guard was appointed to protect him on the way,
the fame of his sanctity having made him so precious that it was
feared an attempt might be made to capture his poor suffering body.
His four most devoted followers nursed him through the weeks that
followed, these were Leo, Angelo, Masseo, and Rufino.
He remained some months at Assisi, and amid his worst sufferings
poured out such hymns of joy and thankfulness, that Fra Elia, who
doubtless was already coveting the power that would so soon be in his
grasp, remonstrated with the dying saint.
Sick persons, Elia said, were expected to edify others by their
resigned and saintly demeanour, not by singing so loud that they could
be heard outside the palace walls. Francis had often asked his
companions to join in his songs; his own sweet voice had become
feeble.
He had more than ever need of joy, for with the best intentions one of
his most saintly companions was troubling his peace by recounting the
changes worked in the simplicity of the Rule which Francis so dearly
cherished: how larger monasteries were erected for the increasing
communities, instead of the small, roughly built houses which he had
always prescribed as suited for the abodes of begging friars; friars
vowed to possess nothing of their own. Francis listened, but he had
already seen these changes: he bade the Brother have faith and trust
in God, and never to forsake the Rule or the Portioncula.
Soon after this he expressed a wish to return to the little shrine if
he had power to make the journey, adding quaintly:
"I cannot go so far afoot, my Brothers; you must be good enough to
carry me."
Half-way to the Portioncula he bade his bearers stop. Raising his
hand, he gave his last blessing to the town of Assisi, which he could
no longer see because of his blindness.
Soon after his arrival he asked Fra Leo to summon by letter the Lady
Jacoba dei Settesoli, a widow who lived in Rome, being the mother of
two Roman senators. He knew her devotion to him, and to the
Franciscan Orders, and he feared she would grieve if he did not bid
her farewell.
Just as the letter was finished, a trampling of horses was heard
outside, and Madonna Jacoba appeared; she had felt anxious about her
beloved teacher, and had set forth of her own accord to see him.
She was only just in time; very soon afterwards, having dictated his
testament and received the last rites, he passed away.
All Italy mourned him, but the grief of the people of Assisi was
indescribable. On the way to his burial place in San Giorgio the
procession stopped outside San Damiano, so that Clare and her Sisters
might come forth and take a last farewell of their revered Father.
The death of St. Francis has been well told by Miss Lina Duff Gordon
in _The Story of Assisi_.
The more one studies the life of this gentle saint, who lived and
worked for the love and glory of God; the devotion shown in his
ardour to save souls; the practical help he gave to all; his complete
abnegation of self, and the happiness which he showed to be the duty
of every one, the more one wonders at the frequent persecution of
Franciscans. They seem to be best off at La Vernia. When we at last
drove away from Assisi, along the dusty roads, which, to those who
read the _Fioretti_, are full of flower-like memories of the
sweet-natured saint and his favourite companions, Fra Leone, Fra
Egidio, Fra Masseo, and others, the sun was setting gloriously;
Subasio glowed like a carbuncle as it reflected the gold and scarlet
splendour opposite, and while this glow faded slowly into purple, the
long line of the houses of Assisi blushed like a rose beside the
mountain. We watched till the purple became a rich grey, painted with
pale brown tints, while the sky just above the ridge of hills was
palest green, changing into yellow above. Long lines of purple barred
these delicate tints, and on the bluer, now cool, sky opposite lay
rounded masses of white cloud with grey under-edges.
It was dark before we drove up the steep road into Perugia, and
reached our comfortable quarters in the Hotel Brufani.