Part 12

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.

The lower church, which one enters by a Gothic porch, is very dark. This is emphasised if the sun happens to be very brilliant. By degrees, however, the wonderful ultramarine used in the decoration of the groined roof asserts itself, and what at first seemed utter blackness unfolds imperceptibly into an extraordinary scheme of colour. The costly blue was presented by Hecuba, Queen of Cyprus, whose tomb is in the church. The great porphyry vase in which it was brought thither is there too. Chapels raised six steps above the floor of the nave take the place of aisles; and their windows, filled with stained glass, do not help to mitigate the darkness. The High Altar stands at the inter-section of the nave and transepts. Immediately beneath is the rock containing the saint's remains. The altar itself is a huge slab of stone brought from Constantinople. It rests on twenty slender columns that form a sort of arcade with trefoils and mosaic spandrils. The tour compartments of the vault above are adorned with some of the finest of Giotto's work. They are known as the Poverty series, and Chastity, Obedience, and S. Francis in Glory.