The Story of Assisi

by Lina Duff Gordon

"Another time, when the man of God wished to go to a certain desert place, that he might give himself the more freely to contemplation, being very weak, he rode upon an ass belonging to a poor man. It being a hot summer's day, the poor man, as he followed the servant of Christ, became weary with the long way and the steep ascent, and beginning to faint with fatigue and burning thirst, he called after the saint: 'Behold,' he said, 'I shall die of thirst unless I can find a little water at once to refresh me.' Then without delay the man of God got off the ass, and kneeling down with his hands stretched out to heaven, he ceased not to pray till he knew he was heard."

Giotto has here rendered the aridity of the summit of La Vernia, its pinnacles of rocks with stunted trees. Two friars, by now quite accustomed to miracles, converse together as they lead the donkey from which St. Francis has dismounted to pray that the thirsty man's wishes may be gratified. The grouping of the figures repeat the pointed lines of the landscape, and the whole is harmonious and of great charm of composition. It was justly admired by Vasari, who thought the peasant drinking was worthy of "perpetual praise." Florentine writers were continually harping on what they considered to be Giotto's claim to immortality, his genius for portraying nature so that his copy seemed as real as life, an opinion shared by Vasari when he gives his reason for admiring this particular fresco. "The eager desire," he says, "with which the man bends down to the water is portrayed with such marvellous effect, that one could almost believe him to be a living man actually drinking."

Over the door is a medallion of the Madonna and Child which once was by Giotto, but now, alas, the eyes of faith must see his handiwork through several layers of paint with which restorers have been allowed to cover it. A slightly sardonic smile has been added to the Madonna, and to appreciate what is left of her charm it is necessary to look at her from the other end of the church, where the beauty of line and composition can still be discerned notwithstanding the barbarous treatment she has undergone.

15. St. Francis Preaching to the Birds at Bevagna.

"When he drew near to Bevagna, he came to a place where a great multitude of birds of different kinds were assembled together, which, when they saw the holy man, came swiftly to the place, and saluted him as if they had the use of reason. They all turned towards him and welcomed him; those which were on the trees bowed their heads in an unaccustomed manner, and all looked earnestly at him, until he went to them and seriously admonished them to listen to the Word of the Lord.... While he spoke these and other such words to them, the birds rejoiced in a marvellous manner, swelling their throats, spreading their wings, opening their beaks, and looking at him with great attention."

This theme has been treated by another artist in the Lower Church, with little success as we have seen; it is also sometimes introduced in the predellas of big pictures of the school of Cimabue; but it remained for Giotto to give us a picture as beautiful in colour as those left by the early chroniclers in words. He never painted it again on a large scale, and the small representation in the predella of the picture in the Louvre follows the Assisan fresco in every detail. Two friars whose brown habits are tinted with mauve, one tree, a blue, uncertain landscape and some dozen birds, are all he thought necessary to explain the story, and yet the whole poetry of St. Francis' life is here, the keynote of his character, which has made him the most beloved among saints, and the man who though poor, unlettered and often reviled, was to herald the coming of a new age in religion, art and literature. With what love he bends towards his little feathered brethren as he beckons them to him, and they gather fearlessly round him while he points to the skies and tells them in simple words their duties towards their Creator.

Another Florentine, Benozzo Gozzoli, painted this subject; there across the Assisan valley at Montefalco we can see it. His birds are certainly better drawn, there are more of them too, and we can even amuse ourselves by distinguishing among them golden orioles, blackbirds, doves and wood pigeons, but no one would hesitate to say that real charm and poetry are missing. Giotto's fresco, painted 600 years ago, is somewhat faded and many of the birds are partly effaced, but we do not feel it matters much what they are—we only love the fact that St. Francis called the Umbrian birds around him and preached them a sermon with the same care as if he had been in the presence of a pope, and that Giotto believed the legend and took pains with his work, intending that we also should believe and understand something of the sweetness of this Umbrian scene.

16. Death of the Knight of Celano.

"When the holy man came into the soldier's house all the family rejoiced greatly to receive this poor one of the Lord. And before he began to eat, according to his custom, the holy man offered his usual prayers and praises to God, with his eyes raised to heaven. When he had finished his prayer, he familiarly called his kind host aside, and said to him: 'Behold, my host and brother, in compliance with thy prayers I have come to eat in thy house. But now attend to that which I say to thee, for thou shalt eat no more here, but elsewhere. Therefore, confess thy sins with truly penitent contrition; let nothing remain in thee unrevealed by true confession, for the Lord will requite thee to-day for the kindness with which thou hast received His poor servant.' The good man believed these holy words, and disclosing all his sins in confession to the companion of St. Francis, he set all his house in order, making himself ready for death, and preparing himself for it to the best of his power. They then sat down to table, and the others began to eat, but the spirit of the host immediately departed, according to the words of the man of God, which foretold his sudden death."

This is one of the most characteristic of Giotto's works, showing his power, unique at that time, of touching upon human sorrow with simplicity, truth and restraint. Here is no exaggerated gesture of grief, no feigned expression of surprise or false note to make us doubt the truth of the tragedy that has befallen the house of Celano. But the movement of the crowd of sorrowing people, the men gazing down on the dead knight, the women weeping, their fair hair falling about their shoulders, tell better than any restless movement the awful grief which fills their hearts. It has happened so suddenly that the friar still sits at table with his fork in his hand, while St. Francis hast just risen to go to the people's assistance, while a man in the Florentine dress turns to him seeming, from the gesture of his hand, to say: "See, your prophecy has been fulfilled but too soon."