St. Francis' Sanctuary of La Verna

When thinking of St. Francis, naturally Assisi (his birth place, his resting place, and his main sort-of headquarters for a long time) is the first place associated with him. But pre-tiring here in northern Umbria and traveling around a lot has made me realize (even more so than when I was reading the Marvel Comics Life of St. Francis) that he got around this whole area quite a bit, and that there are more spots than just Assisi that seem Francis-ized. Perhaps tops on this list is the Sanctuary of La Verna, which we visited last week. The Sanctuary is way, way, way up in the east Tuscan hills, even higher than the mountain which gave Michelangelo the inspiration and foundation for the painting the Creation of Adam (the big M is from just down the road from La Verna):

The Sanctuary’s story goes back to 1213, when St. Francis was roaming around, meeting people and animals and speaking. At a particular spot there was a feast happening, and some merriment, and he stopped by to talk to people and in his intense way impressed a Count Orlando Catani, who was a guest at the feast and who asked St. Francis for a little more conversation. St. Francis (who was a gentleman as well as holy) told him to “honor the friends who invited you for the feast and dine with them,” and then we'll talk. After the talk the Count (who was struck by St. Francis—natch) offered the Mount of La Vernia, a wild solitary spot, to St. Francis for whenever he needed to get away from the crowds. St. Francis loved this idea, and ended up spending some of each year there, and it’s where he received the stigmata, among other things. Today, the mountain is still fairly wild, as a national park encircles the Sanctuary, and very craggy and wooded. There’s a restaurant (and gift shop—can’t have a Sanctuary without one of those), but also a convent and monastery, and  as we walked from the restaurant to the various chapels we had some friendly companions:

There is a large church, but also many small chapels, and a long hallway with modern frescos leading to various St. Francis historic spots, all built within trees and mountains:

You can duck into one particularly lovely ravine, take a right, and even see the cave which holds the stone St. Francis slept on (it’s pretty dark and cold, I have to say. St. Francis was tougher than I):

There are numerous small chapels, some dedicated to St. Francis, some to other saints, tucked in here and there, though the largest (chapel, that is—there’s a larger church) is probably the Chapel of the Stigmata, where the stone that St. Francis was one when he received said stigmata is on display:

The Sanctuary, in various chapels and churches, also displays an incredible array of glazed terracotta by Andrea della Robbia. I’m a pretty fan (as I’ve mentioned here once or twice) of the della Robbias, so it was a fantastic balance to see many within such a natural setting. It just made for an interesting juxtaposition, the shiny terracotta inside:

and then right outside the vast view:

The chapels and walks wind through the rocks and mountains and even deeper into the park—we walked around for a good hour and didn’t nearly see all. You can, perhaps, sense more of what St. Francis was about here than in Assisi, though Assisi is more monumental and a not-to-be-missed art and architecture spot. Even within the wood and wild though, you can’t get away from modernity for long. Which was lucky for one particular monk, who needed to make a quick call:

If you’re interested in St. Francis, incredible scenery, or della Robbia terracotta, then I suggest you follow St. Francis up, up, up the hill the next time you’re in the area (and think about, as you corner the curves in a car, how long the walk must have been).

A Medieval Morning and More in Bella Bevagna

We’ve been in a stretch of amazing April weather here in central Italy, with skies of blue and temperatures rising up to the mid-70s here and there. Just delightful, and the perfect weather for a little Umbrian exploring. With this in mind, we headed to south-central Umbria the other day, specifically to a town called Bevagna. We’d both read and heard about Bevagna, so it was on our list of spots we wanted to stop at before pre-tirement ends (an infamous day that is rapidly approaching). And it was definitely worth a stop. Originally (so the history goes) an Etruscan town called Mefana, it rose to its most famous moments as a Roman town called Mevania, when it sat on the Via Flaminia, the biggest and bustling-est of all Roman highways. Then, however, the road got re-routed (bureaucrats were changing people’s lives without a thought even back then) and the town’s tourist bureau became less busy. Bevanga still contains practically the same structure from Roman times, however, as well as Roman mosaics from a spa, a small neighborhood of houses and such built on the remains of the Roman theater, a single Roman column in the town center, and more. The town center, or the Piazza Silvestri, is actually the place to start exploring, as it dates back to the 12th century and is quite lovely, with three churches, the Palazzo dei Consoli (sort-of a governmental seat, since the 1880s home to a famous theater), and a welcoming fountain:

In the back of the fountain you can see one of two churches that face either across the piazza, San Michele, which was built in the late 1100s, and whose façade boasts a line of worn faces across it, people, gargoyles, birds, and animals that have watched those in the square and those going into the church for centuries:

The second church in the square, San Silvestro, dates back to the same time, but has a completely different, ancient feel, due to a lack of restoration and a very plain, interior--it’s actually quite nice to step into a non-pagent’d church. Walking from the center in almost any direction on the small streets out of the center around the town is perhaps the most enjoyable part of Bevagna. They small streets still have a very medieval feel and houses and buildings accented by flowers, ironwork, sculpture, and other intriguing pieces:

Wandering through these streets led us to Sant’ Agostino, a plain-on-the-outside, fresco’d up on the inside neighborhood church:

The frescos on the inside were mostly un-credited, but gave the church lots of color, as well as giving me another view of one of my favorite cautionary stories (the devil is faded, but the general line-up and action is evident):

Bevanga has a famous event called Mercato delle Gaite in late June, and a scaled back La Primavera Medievale in April, both of which celebrate the town’s medieval heritage. The latter, which we stumbled into, means that there were medieval workshops open, highlighting specific medieval artisan crafts. Our first stumble into one of these was also the best, and maybe the highlight of the whole trip, as we walked around a corner and were face-to-face with a medieval-style candle-making shop:

We were peeking in, and then saw a gentleman making candles in the old school style:

He ended up not only speaking fantastic English, but being incredibly friendly, walking us through how they used to make this specific style of candle, with duel hemp wicks twirling around each other (the duel wicks and wax method lent itself to longer burning and less smelling—which meant these candles were for church leaders and rich folk, as opposed to the poor who used sheep fat candles. Or something as aromatic). He even let Nat take a turn:

There were also open rooms set up as medieval silk-and-fabric-making and paper-making shops, and while all were cool to wander through (they were each in a different quarter of town), none had as charming a host as the candle-maker.  After stopping for a scrumptious lunch (which I’ll blog about tomorrow), we stopped into the third church on the center piazza, one set a bit to the side, San Domenico e’ Giacomo, which had some nice frescos and oldish wooden sculptures inside as well as a little dog, carrying a torch no less, tucked into one painting:

Keeping our church-and-medieval trail going, after a short stop to look at Roman bits and pieces and here and there, and more wanderings of Bevagna streets, we stopped in at the church of San Francesco (naturally, like almost every church and town in the area—Umbria, that is—there’s a strong St. Francis connection):

Inside, the church has the usually array of frescos and sculptures, with one out-of-the-ordinary main draw (for Francis-completists, especially), the stone which he stood on when making his famous sermon to the birds. There is another spot near Assisi where it’s said this happened, but when in Bevagna, think like Bevagnans, and so I believe he stopped to preach to the flocks on the road between Bevagna and Cannara (a spot famous for its red onions), standing on this very square stone:

After seeing that, and enjoying a beautiful day in Bevagna, we were off in the same direction as Umbria’s most famous Saint, heading north past Cannara and back home.

Assisi Morning and Afternoon

Assisi is a quaint little Umbrian hill town. Well, maybe not so much, as it’s really an internationally known spot, revered by pilgrims, art and architecture lovers, and history mavens. If you don’t know (and I suppose you do, but let me refresh just in case), Assisi is the home of St. Francis, who is the reason for the above-mentioned international magnetism. St. Francis not only started a monastic order, completely changed the church, had a devoted female opposite number (Clare) who also started an order (nuns, naturally), but made friends with animals. I’ve tried to think of how to make a modern parallel to St. Francis, but it’s impossible. It’d be as if Paris Hilton gave up her worldly possessions in front of her parents and the country’s most famous governor, devoted herself to charity, chastity, poverty, and obedience, changed the way the US government operates and thinks (the church was at least this impressive and important at the time), and inspired a horde of followers to devote themselves to the same ideals, including one of her rich boyfriends. After she died, her selflessness would then inspire others to build an otherworldly-lovely monument, decorated on the inside by the top artists of the day. Unimaginable. But that’s what St. Francis was like, in hindsight. And Assisi is a reflection of this, if one that’s a bit touristy and more ornate than he would have ever approved of, I suppose. But beautiful, indeed. Not every building and brick is focused on St. Francis and Clare, though. The first church I always see when entering Assisi proper (because I always park in the same cark park—hey, I’m easy) is actually the Cathedral of San Rufino, named for a 3rd century illustrious bishop. Like most churches, no pics are allowed inside, so I can’t show you the baptismal font where Clare and Francis were baptized, but I can show you the front façade of the church, which dates back to the 12th century and is starkly handsome:

From there, it’s a short windy walk to St. Clare’s. Not as ornate as St. Francis’ big basilica, Clare’s church is still a charming, and more relaxed in its visual wonders, spot:

one that also presents, when sitting on or looking over the wall, delightful views of the Umbrian countryside (a fitting spot for Clare to be buried beside):

It’s helpful when strolling the streets and cozy brick and stone corridors to take a side path here and there away from the shops and shoppes with their products from China (okay, there are some that are truly Italian, especially one or two full of hand-carved olive-wood products) to get a grasp of how Assisi must have been a delight to wander (not that it isn’t now, but to wander it when bereft of crowds would have been something else entirely—which is why getting away from crowds here and there is good):

In the middle of Assisi is the Piazzo del Comune, where the Temple of Minerva (now called the church of Santa Maria sopra Minerva) holds court. A step back from the Renaissance into the Roman age, the columnar front of the church is perhaps the best example of Roman columns outside of Rome:

The church inside has been completely re-done in a baroque style that’s worth viewing with its garish charms. However, it’s nothing like the main Assisi event, the take-your-breath-away Basilica of St. Francis:

Honestly, there’s something about Assisi and the Basilica that amazes me more than heroically artistic cities I love such as Florence. Not that I think it’s more worthy, or has better art, etc. It’s just that I would expect a historically powerful and financially important city such as Florence to overwhelm. But Assisi is different--it’s done up because of one man (and his followers, but inspired by him). The Basilica is a reflection of the devotion he inspired. Again, no indoor pics, but it’s like two galleries on top of one another, with the top an airier, lighter, monument to his life and to the art of Giotto (thanks to Giotto’s series of frescos about St. Francis’ life, frescos which run along the sides), and with the bottom church a darker, but not dreary, array of allegorical, historical, and splendid artworks by a number of the top hot artists of the time. It was a cold day when we were there recently, but clear, and blue-skied, providing the opportunity for some bundled up, but still amazing, viewing of this town’s signature artistry, not to mention the town itself, perched on the foothills of Mt. Subasio: