_The Paintings of Giotto and his School in the Lower Church_
"... Cimabue thought
To lord it over painting's field; and now
The cry is Giotto's, and his name eclipsed."
DANTE, _Purgatory_, xi., Cary's translation.
The work of Cimabue, grand and noble as it is, yet gives the
impression of belonging to remote times, between which and that of
Giotto, his pupil, a great gulf is set. In both churches at Assisi we
pass from the early efforts of an awakening age to the work of one,
who, if not the first to see the light, was the first to discover the
true principles of art, to give it life, and to found a school whence
a long series of painters came to carry on for generations the lessons
he had taught. Cimabue did wonders for the century in which he lived;
of Giotto, even granting that his drawing was sometimes faulty, and
the types of faces he painted were not always beautiful, it would be
an insult to express such condescending praise; and even a hasty study
of his frescoes in San Francesco must soon explain the everlasting
sway he holds, now, as in those first years when his work seemed
little short of miraculous to the wondering Florentines.
[Illustration: PLAN OF THE LOWER CHURCH AND MONASTERY OF SAN FRANCESCO
AT ASSISI]
Some fourteen miles to the north of Florence, among the hills of the
Mugello, lies the scattered hamlet of Vespignano where Giotto Bondone
was born of a poor peasant family in the year 1265. Even at an
early age, Vasari says, the boy was remarkable for the vivacity and
quick intelligence which endeared him not only to his parents, but to
all who knew him in the village and country round. He passed his
childhood among them, knowing nothing of the city just across the
hills, but learning much, during the long days while he wandered forth
to tend his father's sheep, which was helpful to him in after years to
preserve his straightforward outlook upon life and the strength and
freshness of a nature that loved the sunburnt valleys and the freedom
of the shepherd's existence.
When Giotto was ten years old it happened that Cimabue, on his way
from Florence to Vespignano upon a matter of business, found him
seated by the roadside, his flock gathered near, busily employed in
drawing the outline of a sheep from life upon a smooth piece of rock.
Struck by the boy's industry in the pursuit of art and his evident
cleverness, Cimabue hastened to obtain the father's consent to adopt
and make an artist of him. Leaving the old life in the peasant's
cottage for ever, Giotto now turned south along new roads, and with
Cimabue by his side, saw for the first time the city of Florence,
beautiful as she lay upon the banks of the Arno in a setting of wooded
hills.
The progress he made under Cimabue's guidance, who taught him all he
knew, was marvellous indeed. At ten years of age a shepherd tracing
idle fancies on the stones, then for a few years an apprentice in a
Florentine workshop grinding colours with the others for his master's
big Madonnas; while ten years later he had already gained the title of
Master and was a famous painter, courted by popes and kings, and
leaving masterpieces upon the walls of churches throughout Italy,
that people of all times and countries have come and paused awhile to
see.
Let us suppose it was the air of Florence, which, according to Vasari,
"generates a desire for glory and honour and gives a natural quickness
to the perceptions of men," that made Giotto a perfect Florentine,
alert, witty, and ever ready with a caustic repartee to anyone who
bandied words with him. But though other influences were at work
around him, and new images crowded upon his active brain, he kept
undimmed the vision of his mountain valley, of the fields, of the days
spent in his native village, and, with the eyes of a shepherd he
continued to look on all the incidents of human life; he saw the
grandeur, the tragedy, the weaknesses, aye, and the humour too, in
everything that surrounded him, setting it all down in his frescoes in
his own simple and original way. In a few words Mr Ruskin has touched
upon the keynotes of Giotto's character when he says: ... "his mind
was one of the most healthy, kind and active that ever informed a
human frame. His love of beauty was entirely free from weakness; his
love of truth untinged by severity; his industry constant without
impatience; his workmanship accurate without formalism; his temper
serene and yet playful; his imagination exhaustive without
extravagance; and his faith firm without superstition. I do not know,
in the annals of art, such another example of happy, practical,
unerring, and benevolent power."
Such was the man who came to Assisi to take up the work left
uncompleted by Cimabue and his contemporaries. Giotto was then almost
unknown, not having executed any of those great works upon which his
fame now rests, and it is not unlikely that the recommendation by
Cimabue of his promising pupil to the friars of San Francesco led to
his being called there when barely twenty years of age.[73] Opinions
differ as to which were his first works and whether he began in the
Lower or in the Upper Church, and as there are absolutely no documents
relating to the subject, and Vasari is of no help in the matter of
dates or precise details, the only way to come to any conclusion is to
group these frescoes according to their style. We do not wish to force
any arbitrary opinions on this matter, and have simply placed Giotto's
work in the order that it seems to us more likely to have been
executed. Those who disagree have only to transpose the chapters as
they think fit. The chief thing is to enjoy the frescoes and speculate
as little as possible on all the contradictory volumes written about
them.
_Right Transept._--According to Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle these
frescoes are by Giotto, and Mr Bernhard Berenson is of the opinion
that they belong to his early period, and were executed by him before
the franciscans knew what his powers were, and whether they could
entrust to him the more difficult task of illustrating the legend of
St. Francis. The subjects are taken from the early life of Christ
which had been depicted many times in preceding centuries, but
although Giotto attempted no very elaborate or original manner of
treatment, his style was rapidly developing, and we have in some of
the scenes little traits of nature which only belong to him. On the
outside of the Chapel del Sacramento, over the arch, he painted the
Annunciation with such charm, dignity and harmony of outline that it
would be difficult to find a more perfect conception of religious
feeling even among the pictures of Angelico. Unfortunately it can only
be seen in the early afternoon when the light comes in through the
windows of S. Giovanni; the Madonna rising with queenly grace and the
angel hastening forward with his message then stand out from their
dark background like living people, and show how, from the first,
Giotto attained the power of giving vitality to his figures. His
Madonna is not like a graven image to be worshipped from afar; she is
essentially the earthly mother of the Saviour, and Giotto, while
treating her story with dignity and a certain sense of remoteness,
tells it by the simplest means, endowing her with the maternal
tenderness of a young peasant girl whom we meet upon the roads
carrying her child to lay beneath the shadow of a tree while she goes
to her work in the fields close by.
[Illustration: CHOIR AND TRANSEPTS OF THE LOWER CHURCH]
The Visitation (on the same wall as Cimabue's Madonna) is one of those
frescoes that we remember like a scene we have witnessed, so naturally
does the Virgin move forward, followed by a group of handmaidens, and
hold out her arms to greet Elizabeth who is bending with such
reverence to salute her cousin. They stand at the entrance of a dainty
house inlaid with mosaic which is set among the bare rocks with only a
stunted tree here and there. But Giotto does not forget to place a
flowering plant in the balcony just as the peasants have always done
in his mountain home.
It is interesting to compare the next fresco of the Nativity with the
same subject in the Upper Church, treated by a follower of Cimabue
where the same idea is depicted, but with what a difference. Though
two episodes are placed in one picture, Giotto succeeds in giving a
harmonious composition, which, if a little stiff and over symmetrical,
is full of charm and beauty. The angels singing to the new-born Infant
and those apprising the shepherds of the news hover like a flight of
birds above the barn. They are in truth the winged spirits of the air,
"birds of God" Dante calls them, and thus Giotto paints them. As
though to accentuate the sadness and poverty of Christ's birthplace,
the barn, all open and exposed to the night breezes, is laid in a
lonely landscape with a high rock rising behind it. Beyond in the
valley, a leafless tree grows upon the bank of a calm stream where the
heavenly light from the angels is seen to play like moonbeams in its
waters.
Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle hold that the Visit of the Magi was
"never painted with more feeling, more naturally or beautifully
composed than here"; and Giotto must have felt he could add little to
the perfection of the scene when in later years he painted the same
subject at Padua. All interest is centred on the Child, who, bending
forward from the Virgin's arms, lays a tiny hand in blessing upon the
head of the aged king. Curiously enough St. Joseph has been forgotten,
and instead an angel stands upon either side to receive the offerings
of the Magi.
But to us the Purification seems even more beautiful in sentiment,
composition and the perfection of religious feeling. Giotto was the
first to conceive the idea of the Infant Jesus turning from Simeon
towards the Virgin Mary as if anxious to come back to her, while she
holds out her arms to invite him with a naive attitude of gentle
motherhood.
From charming frescoes like these we come to the grand and powerful
scene of the Crucifixion. Every figure tells a different tale of
sorrow; of tender pity, as in the group of women round the fainting
Virgin; of wonder that Christ should be allowed to suffer, as in the
gesture of the woman with arms thrown back and St. John who wrings his
hands almost fiercely; of sympathy expressed by the Magdalene, as she
kisses the pierced feet; and of hope and prayer, in the kneeling
figures of St. Francis and his brethren. Even more vehement in their
grief are the angels, who rending their garments fly away with arms
stretched out as if unable to bear the sight of so much pain. How
rapidly they turn and circle in the air; they are not borne along by
the winds, but trusting to their wings they rise with the swift, sure
flight of a swallow.[74]
Upon the opposite wall the early life of the Virgin is continued with
the Flight into Egypt, which bears a strong resemblance to the fresco
at Padua. There is the same sense that St. Joseph, his bundle slung on
a stick over his shoulder like a pilgrim, is really walking along and
in a moment must disappear from sight; a palm tree bends sideways to
the breeze, and above two angels seem to cleave the air as they
hurriedly lead on the travellers to exile and safety. Only the Virgin
sits calm and unruffled. In the Massacre of the Innocents Giotto has
happily not painted the full horror of the scene, but has aimed rather
at suggesting the tragedy than at giving its actual representation.
Very beautiful are the women to the left mourning for their dead
children. One rocks her child in her arms and tries to awaken him with
her kisses, whilst another raises her hands in despair as she gazes
upon the dead child upon her knees.
The Return of the Holy Family from Egypt, though only showing a group
of houses within surrounding walls and a gateway and a group of
people, suggests better than a more complicated composition would have
done the scene of a home-coming after long absence.
The Preaching of the Child in the Temple completes the series, and
like the one at Padua, it is the least interesting of Giotto's
paintings.
There are three other frescoes in the Transept which most people, with
reason, attribute to Giotto, representing miracles of St. Francis.
The first refers to a child of the Spini family of Florence who fell
from a tower of the Palazzo Spini (now Feroni), and was being carried
to the grave, when the intercession of St. Francis was invoked and he
appeared among them to restore the child to life. Part of the fresco
has been lost owing to the ruthless way in which the walls were cut
into for the purpose of erecting an organ--a barbarous act difficult
to understand. But the principal group of people are seen outside an
exquisite basilica of marble and mosaic, and each figure can be
studied with pleasure as they have not been mutilated by the
"restorer's" usual layers of thick paint. Seldom has Giotto painted
lovelier women than those kneeling in the foreground, their profiles
of delicate and pure outline recalling a border of white flowers. Near
them is a figure bearing so strong a resemblance to Dante, that we
would fain believe that Giotto meant to represent the type of a true
Florentine in a portrait of the poet. Above the staircase is a fine
picture of St. Francis resting his hand upon the shoulder of a crowned
skeleton "in which," says Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, "a much
deeper study of anatomy is revealed than has ever been conceded to
Giotto." The oval face of the saint, with clear brown colouring, is
very beautiful, strongly resembling the St. Francis in glory in the
fresco above the high altar. By him also is the half-length figure of
Christ in the vaulting of the window.
Although the two remaining frescoes deal with the death and
resurrection of a child, they probably have nothing to do with the
Spini miracle; the one where the dead child is lying in the arms of
two men has unfortunately been so repainted as to take all character
away from the faces, and we can only admire the general grouping, the
fine gestures of the weeping women, and the grand modelling of the
figures. Only a great artist could make one feel, by such simple
means, the strain of the dead weight upon the men's arms. The man to
the left (the second from the one holding his finger to his chin) is
believed to be the portrait of Giotto; if it is, the painter has not
flattered himself, and we can believe Dante's tale that he was
remarkably ugly, and had six hideous children. On the other side of
the arch the legend continues; a procession of white-robed monks and
sorrowing friends approach the house to which the child has been
taken, but in the meantime St. Francis has called him back to life,
and a man, evidently in great excitement over the miracle, is hurrying
down the steps to announce what has occurred. The story is so well and
simply told that, although we have failed to find any account of it,
it is easy to understand the sequence of the two frescoes, and the
events they relate.
_Allegories by Giotto in the ceiling over the High Altar._--The task
was now given to Giotto to depict by the medium of allegory the three
virtues of the franciscan order and St. Francis in glory. These
virtues, the rocks upon which the franciscan order was so securely
founded, had been preached by St. Francis to the people of Italy with
the extraordinary results we have seen, and now Giotto came to take up
the theme and, by means of his immortal art, perpetuate it as long as
the great basilica lasts, and pilgrims come to pray and read upon the
walls, in a language even the unlettered can understand, the lessons
taught by the Umbrian preacher seven centuries ago. Apart from the
fact of his genius, it was a fortunate thing that he should have been
chosen for the task. A man of weaker and more impressionable
temperament might have been led into such exaggerations of feeling and
sentiment as we find in the Lorenzetti frescoes of the transept.
Giotto came not many years after the Flagellants, roaming in hordes
through the land calling for mercy and beating their half-naked bodies
with leathern thongs, had spread a spirit of fanaticism which
threatened to destroy the healthy influence of the teaching of St.
Francis. But the mountain-born painter, impervious to such influences,
kept his faith pure amidst the turmoil and unrest; and much as he
admired the saint (it is said he belonged to the Third order), he
looked upon his teaching from the practical point of view and was by
no means carried away by the poetical manner in which it had been
presented to the people. Nothing shows the mind and character of
Giotto so plainly as some lines he wrote on poverty, most likely after
painting his famous Allegories when he had an opportunity to observe
how little the manners and customs of mediaeval monks corresponded with
the spirit of their founder. Every line of the poem is full of common
sense and knowledge of human frailty. Many, Giotto remarks somewhat
sarcastically, praise poverty; but he does not himself recommend it as
virtue is seldom co-existent with extremes; and voluntary poverty,
upon which he touches in a few caustic lines, is the cause of many
ills, and rarely brings peace to those who have chosen her as a mate
and who too often study how to avoid her company; thus it happens that
under the false mantle of the gentlest of lambs appears the fiercest
wolf, and by such hypocrisy is the world corrupted.[75]
[Illustration: THE MARRIAGE OF ST. FRANCIS WITH POVERTY
(D. ANDERSON--_photo_)]
Giotto, an artist before he was a moralist, undertook to carry out the
wishes of his patrons, and thought only how he could best fill the
triangular spaces of the ceiling with the figures of saints and
angels. It was by no means an easy task, but Giotto succeeded so well
that these four frescoes are reckoned among his masterpieces and
the wonders of the thirteenth century. They certainly show a marked
advance upon the earlier works in the Transept, but they lack the
power and assurance of those in the Upper Church, where the youthful
painter all but reached the zenith of his fame.
_The Marriage of St. Francis and Poverty._[76]--In this fresco Giotto
has represented three incidents, but just as they all refer to one
subject, so do the figures form a perfect harmony, faultless as
decoration and beautiful as a picture. A youth, imitating the charity
of St. Francis to whom his guardian angel is pointing, is seen on the
left giving his cloak to a beggar, while upon the other side, a miser
clutching his money-bag and a youth with a falcon on his gloved hand
refuse to listen to the good suggestions of an angel and of the friar
who stands between them. The lines of decoration are further carried
out by the two angels who fly up carrying a temple with an enclosed
garden, perhaps symbolising Charity, and a franciscan habit, which may
be the symbol of Obedience. But these are details and the eye does not
rest upon them, but rather is carried straight into the midst of a
court of attendant angels where Christ, standing upon a rock, gives
the hand of St. Francis to the Lady Poverty, who slightly draws away
as if in warning of the hardships and disillusions in store for him
who links his life with hers. Cold and white, her garments torn by a
network of accacia thorns, she is indeed the true widow of Christ,
who, after His death as Dante says,
"... slighted and obscure
Thousand and hundred years and more, remain'd
Without a single suitor, till he came."[77]
The bridesmaids, Hope pointing to the sky, and Charity holding a heart
and crowned with flowers that start into tiny flames, come floating
out of the choir of angels towards the pale bride whose veil is
bounded only by her hair. Heedless of the children of earth, who
encouraged by the barking of a dog, press the thorns still deeper into
her flesh, she gazes at St. Francis, and shows him the pink and white
roses of paradise and the Madonna lilies which are flowering behind
her wings.
_Chastity._--The different stages of perfection in the religious life
are portrayed in this allegory. To the left St. Francis welcomes three
aspirants to the order--Bernard of Quintavalle--typifying the
franciscans; St. Clare--the Second Order; and one, who is said to be
the poet Dante, in the near foreground in a florentine dress of the
period--the Third Order. Two angels in the central group impose hands
and pour the purifying water upon the head of a youth standing naked
in a font, and two other angels bend forward with the franciscan
habits in their hands, while leaning over the wall of the fortress are
two figures, one presenting the banner of purity the other the shield
of fortitude to the novice. On either side stands a grey-bearded,
mail-clad warrior, lash and shield in hand to denote the perpetual
warfare and self-mortification of those who follow St. Francis. To the
right three youthful warrior-monks, beautiful of feature, bearing the
signs of the Passion in their hands, aided by one in the garb of a
Penitent with angels' wings, are chasing away the tempting spirits of
the flesh from the rocks about the fortress into the abyss below. The
winged boar falls backwards, followed by a demon and a winged skeleton
emblematic of the perpetual death of the wicked, while poor
blindfolded Love writhes beneath the lash of Penitence. But just as he
is about to spring down with the rest, his string of human hearts
still slung across his shoulders, he snatches up a sprig of roses from
the rocks.
Above, out of a walled enclosure guarded at each end by towers like
every mediaeval castle on the hills about Italian towns, rises a
crenulated fortress. At the open window of the magnificent central
tower is seen Chastity, veiled and in prayer as if unconscious of the
scene below, her vigilance typified by the bell o'erhead. She appears
to be reading, by the light of a taper, from the open book held before
her by an angel, while another is bringing her the palm of sanctity.
They are no longer Giotto's bird-like creations, but stately
messengers with splendid human forms uplifted by outstretched wings
their garments brought into long curved lines by the rapidity of their
flight.
_Obedience._--Under an open _loggia_ sits the winged figure of
Obedience in the habit of a franciscan, holding his finger to his lips
as he places a wooden yoke (symbol of obedience) upon the neck of a
kneeling friar. Prudence, with double face, holding a glass mirror and
a compass, and Humility, with her lighted taper to illumine the path
to paradise, are seated on either side, perhaps to show that he who
imposes obedience upon others must be prudent and humble himself. An
angel upon the right is pointing these virtues out to a centaur
(symbolizing pride, envy and avarice), who, thrown back upon his
haunches by a ray of light from the mirror of Prudence, is thus
stopped from tempting away the young novice kneeling on the opposite
side, encouraged in his act of renunciation by the angel who holds him
firmly by the wrist. Two divine hands appear from the clouds above and
are holding St. Francis by his yoke, while two angels unroll the rules
of his order.
_The Glory of St. Francis._--The throng of fair-haired angels, seem,
as they move towards the throne of the saint and press around it, to
be intoning a hymn of perpetual praise and jubilation. Their figures,
against the dull gold background, are seen white and strong, with here
and there a touch of mauve or pale blue in their garments bringing out
more distinctly the feeling of light and joyousness. The perpetual
movement of the heavenly choir, some blowing long trumpets, others
playing on flutes and tambourines, while many gaze upwards in silent
prayer as they float upon the clouds, contrasts strangely with the
stiff and silent figure of St. Francis, who in his robe of gold and
black brocade, a brilliant light behind him, looks like some
marvellous eastern deity, recalling Dante's words of how he
"... arose
A sun upon the world, as duly this
From Ganges doth: ..."
In the dimness of the cave-like church built to serve the purpose of a
tomb and keep men's ideas familiar with the thought of death, these
frescoes are glimpses into the heaven of the blest. Watch them at all
hours of the day and there will be some new wonder to be noted, a face
among the crowd which seems fairer than the rest, or, as the sunshine
moves across, a flash of colours in an angel's wing like the sudden
coming of a rainbow in a cloudy sky. And who shall forget the strange
play of fancy as the candle light, during an afternoon service,
mingles with the strong sunshine upon the white figures of saints and
the whiter figure of the Lady Poverty, who appear to move towards us
from amidst a blaze of golden clouds, until gradually as the evening
closes in and the candles go out one by one, they are set once more in
the shadow of their backgrounds like so many images of snow.
_La Capella del Sacramento, or the Chapel of St. Nicholas._--Giotto
left one scholar at Assisi whose work it is easy to discover, but who,
as far as name and personality are concerned, is unknown, and shares
in the general mystery which surrounds both the builders and painters
of San Francesco. All we know is that he followed his master's style
and great laws of composition even more closely than Taddeo Gaddi, and
that he possessed much charm and originality. By the kind help of Mr
Bernhard Berenson we have been able to group together some of the
works of this interesting artist, who was evidently working at Assisi
between 1300 and 1310 when he executed the last nine frescoes of the
Upper Church illustrating the death and the miracles of St. Francis,
decorated the Capella del Sacramento in the Lower Church with the
legend of St. Nicholas, and painted a fine Crucifixion in the
Confraternity of San Rufinuccio (see chap. x). There is a very
delightful panel picture also by him in the corridor of the Uffizzi
(No. 20 in the corridor), with eight small scenes from the life of St.
Cecilia.
In a fresco over the arch on the inside of the Capella del Sacramento
are portraits of the donors of the chapel, Cardinal Napoleone Orsini,
who is being presented to Christ by St. Francis, and his younger
brother Giovanni (below him is written Dns Jons Gaetanus frater ejus),
presented by St. Nicholas. It helps to date the decoration of the
chapel, for we know that Giovanni Orsini received the cardinal's hat
in 1316, while here he is represented in the white dress of a deacon
confirming the general opinion that these frescoes must have been
painted before that date.[78]
St. Nicholas of Myra, generally known as St. Nicholas of Bari, both
during his life and after his death was forever coming to the
assistance of the oppressed; he did not even object to be the patron
saint of drunkards and thieves, as well as of maiden virtue. He can
easily be recognised in art by the three purses or golden balls which
are always placed at his feet, in reference to the first kind action
he performed when a wealthy young noble. This incident is charmingly
recorded in the chapel upon the right wall near the entrance. Three
sleeping maidens are lying by their father's side, and St. Nicholas,
who has heard of their poverty, throws in three bags of gold as he
passes by the open window. This charitable deed has made him a famous
saint; when Dante is in Purgatory he hears the spirit of Hugh Capet
recounting various acts of virtuous poverty and generosity, among
which
"... it spake the gift
Of Nicholas, which on the maidens he
Bounteous bestow'd, to save their youthful prime
Unblemish'd...."
Below (the picture immediately beneath is entirely obliterated) is a
very beautiful composition, recalling the same artist's treatment of
St. Clare and her nuns in the Upper Church. In front of a Gothic
chapel of white and black marble stands St. Nicholas, between two
placid and portly friars, listening to the petition of a despairing
father who implores his protection for his three sons, unjustly
condemned to death by a wicked consul. The figures of the prisoners,
with halters round their necks, followed by sympathising friends, are
full of movement and life; St. Nicholas is particularly charming,
dressed in his episcopal robes, slightly bending forward and listening
attentively to the doleful tale.[79]
The legend is continued upon the opposite side, where he arrives just
in time to save the youths. The figure of the kneeling victim
expecting the blow every moment to fall upon his neck and the majestic
attitude of the saint in the act of seizing the sword, are finely
rendered, but Giotto would hardly have approved of the complicated
building decked with much superfluous decoration which is supposed to
represent the city gate.
The fresco below relates a vision of the Emperor Constantine who had
ordered his three generals, unjustly accused of treason, to be put to
death. St. Nicholas appears and commands him to release the prisoners,
who are in a wooden cage by the bed.
High up in the lunette of this wall is an interesting fresco referring
to a humorous incident of one of the saint's miracles. It appears that
a Jew, hearing that St. Nicholas gave special protection to property,
placed a statue of him in his house; but it must be remembered that
St. Nicholas was also the patron of thieves, and one day all the Jew's
possessions disappeared. Enraged by the failure of his plan he
administered a sound thrashing to the statue, which stands in a
beautiful niche with spiral columns, behaving much in the same way as
the childish sons of faith in Southern Italy who turn the Madonna's
picture to the wall when their prayers have not been effectual. In
this case St. Nicholas was so deeply offended that he appeared in a
vision to the thieves, who kindly restored the goods of the irate Jew.
There are dim remains of frescoes on this wall, but it is impossible
to make out what they represent. Other wonderful miracles are related
upon the opposite side, beginning high up in the lunette, where, with
some difficulty, we distinguished St. Nicholas restoring a child to
life who has been taken from his parents and killed by evil spirits.
Below is a scene in a banqueting hall, where a king, seated at table,
takes a goblet of wine from the hand of a slave boy. St. Nicholas, in
full episcopals, performs one of his many aerial flights, lays his hand
upon the boy's head and carries him back to his parents. In the scene
beneath St. Nicholas is restoring to his people another youth, who, it
seems, was nearly drowned while filling a goblet with water for the
altar of St. Nicholas; or it may be the continuation of the preceding
legend, and show the home-coming of the captive boy from the king's
palace. It is one of the most charmingly rendered of the series; the
impetuous action of the mother rising with outstretched arms to
welcome her son, and the calm dignity of the father's embrace, are
almost worthy of Giotto himself. A small dog bounds forward to add his
welcome to the others, while St. Nicholas surveys the scene with great
gravity, every line of his figure denoting dignity, power and repose.
On one side of the arched entrance to the chapel is a fresco of St.
Mary Magdalen, on the opposite side is St. John the Baptist, and in
the vaulting of the arch, on the right, are St. Anthony of Padua with
St. Francis; St. Albino with St. George; St. Agnes holding a lamb,
perhaps the most graceful of the figures, with St. Cecilia crowned
with roses. Opposite are St. Rufino and St. Nicholas holding a book;
St. Sabino and St. Vittorino, both Assisan martyrs; and St. Claire
with St. Catherine of Alexandria. But the quality of this artist will
be only half realised if the single figures of the apostles on the
walls below the scenes from the life of Nicholas are overlooked. Very
grave and reposeful they lend an air of great solemnity to the chapel,
and as Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle remark, they are "after those of
Giotto in the Ciborium of Rome, the most admirable that were produced
in the early times of the revival...."
It is as difficult to explain why the Chapel of St. Nicholas possesses
so much charm, as it is to understand why people seldom spend more
than sufficient time to read the few lines in their guide-book about
it and verify for themselves that the frescoes are there; but perhaps
when some fifty frescoes by Giotto have to be realised in about an
hour, which is the time usually devoted to them by the visitor to
Assisi, it is not surprising that Giotto's follower, the closest and
the best he ever had, should be neglected.
The stained glass windows, remarkable rather for their harmony than
for their depth of tone, belong also to the early part of the
fourteenth century, and are decorated with the Orsini arms. On the
left side of the central window is a charming design of St. Francis in
a rose-coloured mantle, recommending to Christ the young Giovanni
Gaetano Orsini, who is said to be buried in the chapel. His monument
behind the altar, erected soon after his death in 1347, is, according
to Vasari, the work of Agostino da Siena, a pupil of Giovanni Pisano.
Very calm and youthful-looking the Cardinal lies at full length in
long folded robes while two angels guard his slumbers.
There is yet another treasure in St. Nicholas' Chapel; a lovely
picture on panel of the Virgin and saints (rather difficult to see as
it is against the light over the altar), by a Sienese artist who
possesses some of Simone Martini's talent of depicting ethereal and
serene Madonnas.
_The Chapel of St. Maria Maddalena._--According to a legend given by
Padre Angeli the chapel was built and consecrated by St. Bonaventure
while General of the franciscan order towards the end of the
thirteenth century. The three frescoes on the left wall certainly
belong to Giotto's time, and if not actually painted by him they
appear to be from his designs, and not merely copies of the Paduan
frescoes which they resemble. Above the frescoes of the Raising of
Lazarus and the Anointing of Christ's feet is the Communion of the
Magdalen, rendered with such simplicity yet with so much religious
feeling and solemnity that we realise it is indeed the last communion
of the saint on earth. The attitude of the priest, the splendid
drapery of the man in orange-coloured garments, and the way in which
the figure of the saint being carried by angels to heaven completes
the composition, bear unmistakably the impress of Giotto's style
before the Paduan period (1206).
The "Noli mi Tangere" upon the opposite wall may also have been
designed by him, but the type of the faces are heavier than his, and
the angels are no longer swift spirits of the heavens ending in flame
and cloud.
The painter, as if wishing to remind the faithful of the new life
symbolised in the resurrection of Christ, has covered the rocks and
ground with flowering rosebushes and exquisitely designed tufts of
ferns and leaves.
The story of the Prince and Princess of Marseilles is a favourite
subject with the Giottesque school. The legend tells that when Mary
Magdalen arrived at Marseilles with Lazarus and Martha, she met a
prince and his wife who were praying to the gods for a son, and she
persuaded them to pray instead to the God of the Christians. Their
desire was granted, and they were converted, but evidently being of a
cautious turn of mind, they resolved to sail at once for Jerusalem and
find out if St. Peter's teaching agreed with that of the Magdalen. On
the way a terrible storm arose, and during the tempest the princess
gave birth to a son, and died. The sailors insisted that her body must
be thrown overboard or the storm, they said, would not abate; at last
the prince was forced to lay the body of his wife upon a rocky island
in the midst of the ocean, and calling upon Mary Magdalen for help, he
left the child wrapt in the cloak of its dead mother by her side and
continued the journey to the Holy Land. His visit to St. Peter ended
in his complete conversion, and upon his return to France he stopped
at the rocky island where he found his wife and son alive and well,
thanks to the prayers of St. Mary Magdalen. They returned to
Marseilles, the vessel being guided by angels, and the whole town
became Christian.
Above the arch facing the altar is a very charming fresco of the
Magdalen standing at the entrance of a cave, her hair falling like a
mantle of cloth of gold about her, to receive the gift of a garment
from a charitable hermit who had heard of her life of austerity and
privation among the mountains of Provence.
The single figures of St. Clare, St. Mary Magdalen and St. Rufino, as
well as the saints in the vaulting opposite the altar, no longer
follow Giotto's designs and are far inferior to the other frescoes.
Teobaldo Pontano, Bishop of Assisi between 1314 and 1329, is supposed
to be the kneeling figure at the feet of St. Rufino as donor of the
chapel. It is so unlikely Giotto should have repeated his later Paduan
designs in a feebler manner, as seen here, or that a pupil should
have slavishly copied them, that it seems more probable the chapel
dates from the time of St. Bonaventure, when its decoration may have
been begun by Giotto and completed by some later Florentine follower
called in by the bishop who desired to be buried here. The Pontano
arms decorate the beautiful stained glass windows, which certainly
date from the first half of the fourteenth century, and are the finest
in the Lower Church with the exception of those in St. Martin's
chapel. Each figure has a claim on our admiration, but especially
lovely is the figure of the Magdalen whose hair falls to her feet in
heavy waves of deepest gold. In the last division of the right window
is the death of the saint, with the lions at her feet which are
supposed to have dug her grave.
_The Chapel of St. Antonio di Padova._--Built by the Assisan family of
Lelli in the fourteenth century, it was once ornamented by Florentine
frescoes of the same date which were destroyed when the roof fell in,
and it has now nothing of interest save the windows. These contain
some naive scenes from the life of St. Anthony; among them may be
noticed his preaching to the fish which raise their heads above the
water to listen.
_Chapel of San Stefano._--This like the last, has only very decadent
frescoes by Adone Doni and is solely interesting for its windows
(second half of fourteenth century), where below the symbols of the
Evangelists are single figures of saints, among them King Louis and
the royal Bishop of Toulouse. Cardinal Gentile di Montefiore, founder
of the chapel of S. Martino, was also the donor of this one and is
represented in the right window with his crest, a tree growing out of
a blue mound against an orange background.
_The Chapel of St. Catherine, or Capella del Crocifisso._--This
chapel was built by order of Cardinal Albornoz towards the end of the
fourteenth century when on his passage through Umbria to reconquer the
rebellious cities for the Roman Pontiff. He conceived at Assisi so
great a love for the memory of St. Francis that he desired to be
buried there; but though his body was brought to Assisi from Viterbo
where he died in 1367, it was afterwards carried to his bishopric at
Toledo "at small expense," writes an economical chronicler, "upon
men's shoulders"; only a cardinal's hat, suspended from the roof of
the chapel, now remains to remind us of the warlike Spanish prelate.
The frescoes here have been assigned to that mythical person
Buffalmaco, of whom Vasari relates such humorous tales. All we can say
is that they belong to the second half of the fourteenth century and
are not very pleasing scenes from the life and martyrdom of St.
Catherine of Alexandria, with a fresco of Cardinal Albornoz receiving
consecration from a pope under the auspices of St. Francis. The
windows are the first things to shine out amidst the gloom as one
enters the Lower Church. Especially attractive are the figures of St.
Francis and St. Clare, their cloaks of the colour of a tea-rose, and
of the other saints in green and russet-brown standing in a frame of
twisted ribbons tied in bows above their heads. Unfortunately the
glass has been repaired in some places by careless modern workers and
we see such strange results as the large head of a bearded man upon
the body of St. Catherine, high up in the left hand window.
[Illustration: THE OLD CEMETERY OF SAN FRANCESCO]
_The Chapel of St. Anthony the Abbot._[80]--About 1367 two monuments
were erected in this chapel over the sepulchres of two murdered
princes--Messer Ferdinando Blasco, nephew of the Cardinal Albornoz,
and his son Garzia. Some say they met their death at Spoleto where the
father was vice-governor, others that they were killed at Assisi close
to the convent of S. Appolinare by the citizens before they submitted
to the kindly rule of the Cardinal. The chapel had been built by a
liberal Assisan gentleman who also left money for its decoration; but
if there were paintings (Vasari mentions some by Pace di Faenza)
nothing now remains but a rather feeble picture by a scholar of
Pinturicchio. The white stone monuments, the white-washed walls and
the total absence of colour gives an uncared-for look to this
out-of-the way corner of the church. A much brighter spot is the old
cemetery opening out of this chapel, which was built in the fourteenth
century with the intention of adorning it with frescoes in imitation
of the Campo Santo at Pisa. The double cloister seen against a
background of cypresses and firs, above which rises the northern side
of the Basilica, form a pretty group of buildings, and can be better
enjoyed now than in former days, when the bones of Assisan nobles and
franciscan friars were piled in the open galleries.
The Basilica of San Francesco became the burial place, not only of
some of the saint's immediate followers, but also of many
distinguished personages. The large stone tomb at the end of the
church is always pointed out as that of "Ecuba," Queen of Cyprus, who
is said to have come to Assisi in 1229 to give thanks for having been
cured of an illness by the intercession of St. Francis, when she gave
the porphyry vase full of ultramarine which is still to be seen,
though now empty of its precious contents. She is said to have died in
1240, and to have been buried in San Francesco. But this "Ecuba" is a
mysterious person not to be found in the history of her country, which
has led some writers to say that it is Iolanthe, the second wife of
Frederick II, who lies here. It is one of those tombs common in the
time of Giovanni Pisani, but bearing only a faint resemblance to his
masterpiece in the Church of San Domenico in Perugia. "On one side,"
says Vasari, in surprise at the novelty of the style, "the Queen,
seated upon a chair, places her right leg over the left in a singular
and modern manner, which position for a lady is ungraceful, and
cannot be regarded as a suitable action for a royal monument."
The tomb to the right was erected soon after 1479 in memory of Niccolo
Specchi, an Assisan physician of renown attached to the persons of
Eugenius IV, and Niccolo V.
_Tomb of St. Francis._--Although it had always been supposed that St.
Francis lay beneath the high altar, no one knew precisely the spot
where Elias had hidden him. In the last centuries many attempts were
made to find the tomb by driving galleries in every direction into the
bed of rock on which the Basilica stands;[81] but all failed, until
more energetic measures were taken in 1818. And after fifty nights of
hard work, conducted with the greatest secrecy (it would seem as
though the spirit of Elias still presided over the workers), below the
high altar, encased in blocks of travertine taken from the Roman wall
near the temple of Minerva, and fitted together neatly as those of an
Etruscan wall, was found the sepulchral urn of St. Francis. It was
evidently the same in which he had been laid in the Church of San
Giorgio, untouched till that day. Round the skeleton were found
various objects, placed, perhaps, by the Assisans, who in this seem to
have followed the custom of their earliest ancestors, as offerings to
the dead. There were several silver coins, amongst them some of Lucca
of 1181 and 1208, and a Roman ring of the second century, with the
figure of Pallas holding a Victory in her right hand engraved on a red
cornelian. Five Umbrian bishops, four cardinals, numberless priests
and archaeologists visited the spot to verify the truth of the
discovery, and finally published the tidings far and wide, which
brought greater crowds than ever to Assisi, and among them no less a
personage than the Emperor Francis I, of Austria. Donations poured in
for building a chapel beneath the Lower Church round the saint's tomb,
and in six months the work was completed by Giuseppe Brizzi of Assisi.
The citizens, in their zeal, decorated it with marble altars and
statues, until the tradition treasured by the people of a hidden
chapel below the Basilica and rivalling it in richness was almost
realised, and they flocked down the dark staircases with lighted
torches to witness the accomplishment of the legends weaved by their
forefathers (see p. 136). It is a most impressive sight to attend mass
here with the peasants in early morning ere they go forth to their
work in the fields. Silently they kneel with bowed heads near the
tomb, touching it now and again through the grating with their
rosaries; the acolytes move slowly about the altar and the voices of
the priests are hushed, for here at least all feel the solemnity of a
religious rite. The candles burn dimly with a smoky flame, the
sanctuary lamps cast a flickering red light upon the marble pavement
and the walls cut out of the living rock, and with the darkness which
seems to press around is the damp smell, reminding us that we are
indeed in the very bowels of the Assisan mountain.
FOOTNOTES:
[73] There are only the most meagre scraps of information to rely upon
as to the dates of Giotto's works at San Francesco, and it is needless
here to enter into the endless discussion. One thing is obvious; the
Assisan frescoes must have been executed before those at Padua which
have always been assigned to 1306. In these pages we have sometimes
followed the view held by Messrs. Crowe and Cavalcaselle, sometimes
that of Herr Thode, who appears to have studied the question with open
eyes, but our final authority is M. Bernhard Berenson, who in a visit
paid lately to Assisi was kind enough to point out many things which
we should otherwise have passed by, and in the sequence of the
frescoes by Giotto at San Francesco we have entirely followed his
opinion.
[74] For Simone Martini's Madonna and Saints between the two chapels
of this transept, see p. 212. The portraits (?) of some of the first
companions of St. Francis, painted beneath Cimabue's fresco, belong to
the Florentine school. It would be vain to try and name them.
[75] See Vasari, ed. Milanesi, vol. i. p. 426. (Sansoni Firenze.)
[76] It is often supposed that Giotto took the theme of this fresco
from the well-known lines of Dante referring to the mystical marriage
of St. Francis to Poverty. But Dante wrote the xi. canto of the
_Paradiso_ long after Giotto had left Assisi; both painter and poet
really only followed the legend recounted by St. Bonaventure of how
St. Francis met three women who saluted him on the plain of S. Quirico
near Siena. These were Poverty, Charity and Obedience.
[77] _Paradiso_, xi., Cary's translation.
[78] This fact alone would disprove the idea that Giottino, who was
born in 1324, could have been the author of these frescoes. Everything
that cannot be attributed to other painters is put down as his work,
so that we have many pictures and frescoes of totally different styles
assigned to Giottino.
[79] Some say this fresco represents the three youths begging St.
Nicholas to pardon the consul who had condemned them to death, in
which case it would come after the scene of the execution on the
opposite wall.
[80] The tabernacle on the altar is the work of Giulio Danti, after a
design by Galeazzo Alessi, both Perugians, in 1570.
[81] How right Elias was to hide the body of St. Francis in so secure
a place is shown by the various endeavours made by the Perugians to
secure the holy relics for their town. In the fifteenth century they
attempted, while at war with Assisi, to carry off the body by force,
and failing, had recourse to diplomacy. They represented to Eugenius
IV, that it would be far safer at Perugia, and begged him to entrust
them with it. He denied his "dear sons'" request on the plea that the
Assisans would be brought to the verge of despair and their city to
ruin.