Pages

Saturday, February 20, 2010

The Mission of the Mendicants to the Cities


Duccio di Buoninsegna 1255 circa – 1318
La Madonna Rucellai, or Madonna dei Laudesi (Commissioned on 15 April 1285)
(Commissioned by the Confraternità dei Laudesi of Florence for the High Altar of Santa Maria Novella and placed in the Chapel of the Rucellai)
Tempera on panel
450 × 290 cm
Galleria degli Uffizi, Florence


Miniature
Ramon Llull (1232-1316), Breviculum
From the the Vita coetanea of Ramon Llull, carried out around 1325 on the initiative of Thomas Le Myésier, a disciple with links to the French court.


"This was the situation of the beginning of the thirteenth century, when the first Mendicant Orders appeared. Their founders quickly became aware that the cities had to be reconquered on a religious level.

In Umbria, it was necessary to wrench city dwellers away from the fascination that wealth and power had exercised; communal institutions sanctioned their exercise, or abuse, of power, and too often were used to crush the poor and the peasants; in the cities of Languedoc, the major problem was that of heresy, to which a large part of the population had supposedly adhered through their hatred of the Church and the clergy, under the influence of the evangelical preaching of the Cathar perfecti and the Waldensians.

It was, therefore, essentially for pastoral reasons, and because of their desire to lead the city dwellers to salvation, that [Saints] Francis, Dominic and their followers gave priority to preaching in the cities, where they believed thousands of souls were threatened by sin.

But other reasons equally attracted the new Orders to the cities.

The rapid increase in their numbers and their refusal to own any land forced them, in fact, to settle within urban societies: here money was abundant and they could find the means to support themselves – initially alms, but soon also legacies from wills and pious foundations – which they needed to ensure the survival of their communities. The fact that they were outside both the seigneurial regime and the network of feudal bonds gave them high repute, in particular with the middle classes. Members of the bourgeoisie, who had become wealthy through moneylending, charging interest and other similar activities, seen as illicit by the Church, felt guilty enough to wish to redistribute some of those earnings to the Friars, who had chosen to live in poverty and humility.

Moreover, the Friars Preacher, who were from the very beginning an Order of clerics, chose to settle quite close to the schools, at the heart of the great urban centres, and the Friars Minor were quick to follow in their footsteps.

Thus, towards 1230, the first two Mendicant Orders had taken a decidedly urban orientation which was not to be reversed in the future and which would be imitated by those to come. Initially, however, up to about 1250, they mainly settled in the outlying quarters of the cities, which were generally situated beyond the city walls. Several considerations made this choice imperative: on the one hand, these newcomers were still not very well known in the beginning, and the bishops and the cathedral chapters, to which the popes recommended them, often conceded them only modest churches in the outlying regions or on land situated in areas which were in the process of becoming urbanised.

However, these locations corresponded to the wishes of the Friars who, in these suburbs, came into contact with people who had recently arrived from the country and who were not well integrated into the traditional structures of the parishes. Yet, in many cities after 1250, the Mendicants decided to relocate, building monasteries and beautiful churches situated within the city walls, usually at the expense of the commune or paid for by some rich lord or member of the middle classes. By doing this, the Friars were certainly responding to the wishes of a good portion of the population, in particular the ruling classes – the nobility and urban aristocracy – who increasingly valued their way of life and supported them through subsidies.

But this complete and definitive urbanisation was not accepted by everyone, in particular members of the Friars Minor, because it was accompanied by an avoidance of the financial precariousness and insecurity which constituted a fundamental aspect of their vocation. Therefore, certain of their members, in particular the original followers of St Francis who were still alive, preferred to withdraw to hermitages, and did not hide their hostility towards the changes which were taking place. They were called the Spirituals.

But their demands remained unfulfilled at the time, and the hierarchy within the Mendicant Orders as well as the papacy continued to emphasise the pastoral mission of the Friars and the role they had to play in the religious education of the faithful. The fundamental task assigned to them by the hierarchy was preaching, which was intended to lead laymen to penitence and holy confession. Where better, then, than in the urban centres, where great crowds gathered together in the churches or in public places to speak of God and invite them to convert?

Moreover, especially in Italy, heresy was essentially an urban phenomenon and, after 1233, the Dominicans and later on the Franciscans were officially given the responsibility of carrying out the Inquisition. In those regions contaminated by heresy, therefore, their houses became tribunals where they would interrogate suspects; sometimes they were even used as prisons. Even though their vocation would seem to exclude them from assuming any authoritarian role, the Friars found themselves becoming the instrument of ecclesiastical power, and even agents of political propaganda serving the Holy See, as was noted in Italy on the occasion of the great conflict between the Emperor Frederick II and Popes Gregory IX and Innocent IV.

In Europe during the middle of the thirteenth century, the cities were important political forces and it was essential for the Church to control them.

The foothold held by the Mendicant Orders in the cities was acquired progressively and through different methods in various regions. In northern Italy after 1233, there was an attempt by certain Friars to impose their law on civil society, thanks to the popularity they had acquired in public opinion. Thus the Dominican John of Vicenza was entrusted with full political powers by cities such as Bologna or Vicenza, which allowed him to take measures which would bring peace back to the city by fighting heresy and preventing arguments between the factions.

But this success led nowhere: once the enthusiasm aroused by the preaching had tailed off, the communities did not hesitate to return to their internal quarrels and territorial conflicts. The Friars, who had learned from previous experience, preferred in future to concentrate on the lay population, who gravitated towards them on the spiritual level, and to organise them into movements.

Certain of these had essentially religious goals, but others, like the Society of the Faith, created in Florence and Milan by the Dominican St Peter Martyr, or even the Militia of Jesus Christ, a knightly order established in an urban environment, aimed at procuring militant support for orthodoxy in its fight against the heretics and their protectors. More widely in Italy, the Mendicants used their status with the laity and the influence they exercised over numerous brotherhoods of penitents (Laudesi) who sang the canticles in the vernacular in honour of the Virgin Mary and the Saints, or the Flagellants (Disciplinati) whose numbers increased after 1260 both belonging to Third Orders with a definite structure from 1280 onwards; these contacts enabled them to win back to the Church that urban society which, around 1200, seemed about to slip through its fingers.

By the time this process was coming to an end, during the last decades of the thirteenth century, it could be said that the Mendicant Orders were deeply rooted in the cities and influenced them greatly.

Their policy of settling in urban areas had borne fruit, and links were established, which were often extremely close, between themselves and the municipal powers, who harboured no mistrust of the Friars, of whom they considered they had nothing to fear on the political level. In Marseilles as in Bruges or Rome, the monastic Church of the Friars Minor served as a meeting place for the leading bodies of the urban community, and it was there that the city officials came to seek an honourable tomb, as well as prayers and offerings in order to face what lies beyond.

This solidarity between the Mendicant Orders and the cities which sheltered them depended on a balanced exchange of services: the municipality granted them regular subsidies in the form of gifts in money and wax candles, but also regular offerings of wood and clothing. In exchange, it often took advantage of their services as messengers, mediators or diplomats. In certain Italian cities, this collaboration was so closely linked that the Dominicans guarded the communal archives in their house, while the Franciscans and the other Mendicants played no less useful a role by returning to the public coffers money taken by thieves which had been returned to them by penitents under the protection of confession.

The most remarkable and lasting illustration of the success of the Mendicant Orders is to be found in their churches. While their founders had wished the Friars to be content with modest buildings, they were quick to launch the construction of monasteries and churches which are still striking, where these buildings have survived, owing to their considerable size. This development was very rapid with the Dominicans, who from the beginning preferred to settle in big cities, building large houses there, while the Friars Minor, on the other hand, preferred more modest surroundings.

The Friars Minor allowed themselves to be pressured into constructing sumptuous buildings, under the influence of important laity, such as the Countess Jeanne of Hainault in Valenciennes, or Louis IX in Paris. They obliged the Friars to allow professional architects to build them edifices in the best contemporary style, like the house of the Cordeliers (the name given in France to the Friars Minor) in Paris, whose nave, at eighty-three metres long, was the grandest and vastest in the city. Here again, the distortion of the spirit of the Rule could be justified through arguments about usefulness and efficiency: the construction of these great churches in fact allowed the greatest possible number of inhabitants of the city to gather together to hear edifying sermons and, therefore, indirectly raised moral and religious standards.

Research carried out over the last few decades on the relationship between the number of Mendicant monasteries and the importance of the cities which housed them has, moreover, demonstrated that the Mendicants’ establishments were not built haphazardly, but instead through the application of demographic and economic criteria.

Towards 1300, a city which had four or five Mendicant convents was considered an important city, while a city which had only one would not have very many inhabitants. Furthermore, it is worth noting that the wave of construction in the thirteenth century began in the large cities (which would subsequently have four or five Mendicant convents), followed by more modest towns, which would end up with only two or three.

Finally, it is clear that the most urban regions of the west – in central and northern Italy, the Paris basin, Flanders, the Rhine valley – were the first to be influenced by the Mendicant phenomenon; other parts of Christendom, where urbanisation was late and rather limited, such as Brittany and Poland, were only affected at the very end of the thirteenth century and especially in the fourteenth century.

If these observations alone were taken into account, it would be logical to view the map of the distribution of Mendicant monasteries as a reflection of the map of western cities during the Middle Ages, as well as a reflection of their hierarchy. However, this assumption must be examined more closely, for there are a certain number of exceptions to the rule we have just defined.

In several of the most important cities of France, the resolute opposition of the monks of the cathedral chapter was for a long time an obstacle to the installation of the Mendicants who were only allowed to build a single house, while the city, logically, should have had several. On the other hand, it should not be forgotten that the Mendicants were often travelling a great deal. It was therefore necessary for them to have a guaranteed stopping point every thirty or forty kilometres along the main routes, like the Via Francigena which led from Italy to France, or the road which led from Lombardy to Germany via the Brenner pass. Therefore, certain Orders were led to establish houses in smaller locations, but ones which were very well placed once the difficulties of travelling were taken into account.

Finally, after 1300, the papacy forbade the creation of new houses without its authorisation, to avoid too much competition between the Orders at a time when the economic situation began to deteriorate and when the secular clergy were less and less willing to accept the proliferation of the Mendicants. ...

On the whole, we can speak without exaggeration of a massive establishment of the Mendicant Orders in urban society at the end of the thirteenth century: they owed their success to the fact that they could bring to the faithful something which the secular clergy had for a very long time been incapable of providing: the example of a moral way of life which, on the whole, was irreproachable, and sufficient education to provide a better way of presenting and transmitting the Christian message through preaching.

The very close relationship that they held with the laity allowed them to understand their problems extremely well, in particular those concerning the economic life of the merchants or bankers.

Therefore, it was not merely chance which placed them at the forefront of theological and canonical thought in this area. In fact, these men, who had chosen evangelical poverty, were above all preachers of penitence, eager to win over souls for God and to create faithful followers for the Church. In addition, since they themselves were often descended from the middle classes and came from urban settings, they shared with their lay interlocutors the idea that they would be held accountable for their behaviour on earth. This was demonstrated by their role in propagating the belief in Purgatory, or in buying indulgences which could, without any real exaggeration, be considered paying back debts in the after-life by making payments in hard cash in the here and now ...

It will be seen from other chapters in this volume that the role of the Friars in the evangelisation of the world did not stop by any means at the city walls of Christian towns. The mission to the Jews (stimulated by Ramon de Penyafort and his successors), to the Muslims (again with a notable contribution from the Catalan Dominicans) and to the Mongol lands that lay beyond Islam has received considerable attention from historians, and the view has even been expressed that it was the Friars who spearheaded the new approach to the Jews which aggressively turned their own texts, notably the Talmud, against them and overturned the traditional Augustinian view that they had a right to subsist within Christian society as ‘testimonies to the truth’ of Christianity. Similarly the study of Islamic texts by Ramon Martí and his associates was intended to enable Christian disputants to challenge Islam on the basis of a close reading of the very texts the Muslims utilised; a particularly energetic figure in conversionist campaigns, with close contacts to both major Mendicant Orders, was the prolific polymath Ramon Llull of Majorca (1232–1316).

It is arguable that in their attempt to adapt to the realities of urban life, certain Friars went too far. From the middle of the thirteenth century onwards, the Parisian poet Rutebeuf, who had begun by singing the praises of the Franciscans, severely criticised the excessive complacency of the Mendicants with regard to the rich, in particular towards moneylenders and their very close links with those in power. Others were to accuse them of hypocrisy, scorning their advances towards women and people on their death beds, or reproaching them for transgressing their Rule and vow of poverty by accepting rents and income from wills, which was frequently the case after 1250.

However, these weaknesses and shortcomings with regard to their ideals must not allow us to forget that, on the whole, the Mendicant Orders did indeed obtain the objective which the Church had set for them, that is to say a new movement towards the evangelisation and the Christian reconquest of urban society in the west."
From André Vauchez, (Director of the Ecole Française de Rome) Chapter 9 The Religious Orders in The New Cambridge Medieval History, Volume V c. 1198–c. 1300 (2008)

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Memento homo, quia pulvis es et in pulverem reverteris











Pieter Bruegel the Elder (c. 1525 – 9 September 1569)
The Triumph of Death c. 1562
Oil on panel
117 x 162cm
Museo del Prado, Madrid

Maestro del Trionfo della Morte
The Triumph of Death c. 1446
Fresco
Galleria regionale di Palazzo Abatellis, Palermo








Buonamico Buffalmacco [ca. 1290- after 1341]
The Triumph of Death c. 1336-1341
Fresco
560 cm × 1500 cm
The Camposanto Monumentale, Pisa


Giacomo Borlone de Buschis
The Triumph of Death (detail) 1485
Fresco
The Oratorio dei Disciplini at Clusone (Bergamo)

Pope on "Thought for the Day" ?



In the morning the BBC`s Today programme has a three minute slot on Radio 4 called Thought for the Day.

It would appear that the Pope has been invited to give a talk for the slot.

As usual, the usual opponents are given their opportunity to put their "opposite point of view".

No surprise who they are and what they say.

Why give them publicity ? Or do they simply condemn themselves out of their own mouths ? I like to think the latter.

The comparison of the Pope with the leader of the British National Party is absurd and hysterical. The distortion of the Pope`s views are what we have simply come to expect.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Thirteenth century religious art - Part II

Master of Saint Cecilia
(active 1300-20 in Florence)
Legend of St Francis: 27. Confession of a Woman Raised from the Dead
1300
Fresco, 270 x 230 cm
Upper Church, San Francesco, Assisi



John of Freiburg,
Summa Confessorum 1310
Top: Folio 1.r (First page) ; Lower: f.2r ("Table of contents")
Ink and pigments on vellum
The British Library, London

"In the 12th century, John of Freiburg was lector (reader) at the Dominican house at Freiburg. The Dominicans were a preaching order who were concerned with dogma. Beginning by indexing an important work on penance by Raymond of Penafort, John carried out the ideals of his order by expanding Raymond's book into a larger 'Summa Confessorum' (roughly translated as 'Concise Book on Confession and Penance') so that it included a huge range of material, arranged alphabetically. An aid to preachers and teachers which put the latest theological ideas into simpler form, it proved successful. More than two hundred manuscripts of it survive. This manuscript of it belonged to the abbey of St Albans, where it would have been used as a reference for composing sermons and teaching.

The book begins with a long title in red writing (rubric) and a historiated initial (first letter bearing a picture) of John of Freiburg teaching a group of attentive students. This page has the introduction and beginning of the prologue. In the lower margin, an inscription states that the manuscript belongs to St Albans Abbey and pronounces an anathema or curse on anyone who tries to steal it.

The 'table of contents' giving the section numbers for a long list of titles ends on this page. The rubric (title in red) near the end of the second column tells the reader the the 'Summa Confessoris', Title I, begins, "compiled by John of Freiburg, lector and brother of the order of preachers" (Dominicans). The decoration of the initial letter and border are conventional for the 14th century." (British Library Catalogue entry for the above Book)

The effigy on the tomb of Eleanor of Castile (1241 – 28 November 1290), the first queen consort of Edward I of England at Westminster Abbey, London


The tomb of the viscera of Eleanor of Castile (1241 – 28 November 1290), the first queen consort of Edward I of England at Lincoln Cathedral

Eleanor of Castile (born about 1244, died 1290) has a fine tomb in St Edward’s chapel in Westminster Abbey, London. The gilt bronze effigy, was cast by goldsmith William Torel in 1291. She died at Harby in Nottinghamshire and Edward erected memorial crosses at the places where her funeral procession rested on its way to London. She holds the string of her cloak in one hand but the sceptre in her other hand has now gone. The tomb slab and pillows beneath her head are covered with the emblems of Castile and Leon (castles and lions). On the ambulatory side is a carved iron grille of exquisite workmanship by Thomas of Leighton Buzzard. The Norman-French inscription can be translated as “Here lies Eleanor, sometime Queen of England, wife of King Edward son of King Henry, and daughter of the King of Spain and Countess of Ponthieu, on whose soul God in His pity have mercy. Amen”.

On embalming the viscera were removed. Her viscera were given a separate tomb in Lincoln Cathedral.



"The interest of the thirteenth century lies secondly in the coalescence of these representational changes, however we account for them, and formal doctrinal change enforced by episcopal legislation, for at heart both embody a form of universalism in aspiration, if not always in practice.

Here the doctrines of Transubstantiation, Penance and Purgatory are critical.

The thirteenth century saw no attempts by the Church to regulate the production of art of the sort promulgated in the sixteenth century during the Tridentine reforms.

Those regulations which did appear, such as English episcopal regulations about the dedication and maintenance of altars, chancels and liturgical equipment, were comparatively general and therefore versatile; they represented a lowest common denominator of regulated decency, which visitation records indicate were frequently themselves hopelessly optimistic. Roman prescriptions of the period are represented by those of Durandus, bishop of Mende (d. 1296) and more specialised legislation was produced by the Cistercian and Mendicant Orders.

The functional character of art was affected substantively, if gradually, by formal doctrinal statements by the Church. The canons of the Fourth Lateran Council of 1215 are typically regarded as central to this process.

Nothing in the canons of the Council pertained directly to the visual arts, though indirectly their impact on the contemporary understanding of the theology of the sacraments is likely to have been significant. Canons 1 and 21 of the Council are the most relevant, the first stating that ‘Jesus Christ is both the priest and the sacrifice, whose body and blood are truly contained in the sacrament of the altar under the species of bread and wine, the bread being transubstantiated into the body and the wine into blood by the divine power’, the second requiring that all Christians should confess privately once a year and receive the sacrament of the Eucharist at least at Easter, on pain of debarral from church and deprivation of Christian burial.

Formalised attention to the salvific importance of private and communal Masses, and of devotion to the sacraments, was reinforced by the formal acknowledgement of the feast of Corpus Christi in 1264, a major new element in the contemporary theology of the body. Though lay reception of the consecrated elements was restricted throughout the period, the consequences of these formalisations can be traced in the growing scale and elaboration of altar-decoration, especially with retable altarpieces, which developed with extraordinary speed in both northern Europe and Italy before 1300; and in new pastoral literature on lay conduct at Mass (especially vernacular lay folk’s Mass Books) which aimed to articulate lay experience of Eucharistic devotion before what was still predominantly a clerical activity.

The growing importance in England and France from the second half of the century of the illuminated Book of Hours, a lay person’s concise equivalent of the clerical Breviary or office-book, also demonstrated the rising importance of lay patronage of illustrated and increasingly massproduced spiritual material. By such means forms of structured devotional life originating in earlier medieval monastic life penetrated the routines of the laity for the first time on a widespread basis.

A key instance of this was Marian devotion. In keeping with most liturgical developments of this time the period saw an expansion in the scale and duration of liturgical practice of this type: thus the thirteenth century also witnessed the addition to, or within, cathedrals of chapels catering specially for lay devotion to the Virgin Mary. High altars in churches of all ranks were now to be equipped with an image of the Virgin Mary as well as of the titular saint, and Lateran IV further added the Ave Maria to the expectation that the laity should know the Pater noster and Creed. Marian devotion, earlier focused by the Cistercians in the twelfth century, was thus broadened and institutionalised.

Lateran IV’s requirement of annual auricular confession and penance is also regarded as a watershed in the development of late medieval spirituality, literature and art.

It is to thirteenth and early fourteenth-century illuminated manuscripts and parish church wall paintings that we look for some of the first signs of a new and increasingly lay penitential culture. This culture was informed by episcopal reform programmes of the type promoted from 1238 by Robert Grosseteste, bishop of Lincoln, which enjoined the clerics, and thereby the faithful, to know the Ten Commandments, the Seven Deadly Sins and the Seven Sacraments. Formalised statements of minimum levels of knowledge – for the formal structuring of sin was of course a form of education – were aided by the preaching of the Mendicant Orders.

The highest, especially royal, patrons were beginning to take Franciscans and Dominicans as personal confessors. The exact steps of confession and penance, once set out in penitentials, were now systematised in mnemonically clear diagrams suitable for inclusion in devotional psalters like that made for Baron Robert de Lisle early the next century. And general evidence of lay supervision at parochial level is supplied by thematically novel church and domestic wall paintings which offered lay people pictorial homilies. The earliest examples of popular macabre images like the Three Living and the Three Dead, whose basis is essentially penitential, originated in this climate of reform.

In addition to sacramental theology, the formal codification of the doctrine of Purgatory, first enunciated dogmatically at the second Council of Lyons in 1274, added a final element to the progressive forces operating in the period.

Though the key elements of the doctrine – that Purgatory was a provisional state of cleansing of the soul after death, and that its duration could be shortened by the performance by the living of suffrages, typically prayers and Masses – were already in place by about 1200, at the level of doctrinal debate, social and religious practice rapidly accepted the dynamics of the doctrine irrespective of its gradual dogmatic formalisation by the Church.

Its importance was manifold. It added importance to the sacrament of Mass by placing Masses and Offices, especially the Office of the Dead, at the centre of the economy of salvation from Purgatory. In addition to the special annexation of spaces within greater churches, the endowment of specific private Masses to be chanted for the dead became increasingly common during the century.

Specialised altar-spaces suitable for the commemoration of families or other groups were emerging in France, England and Italy by 1300, as in the case of the chapels at the east end of Santa Croce in Florence. Burial in church, as opposed to in the churchyard, became an accepted form of social and spiritual recognition. Although already of long-standing validity, church burial attained new importance as the focus of the development, again first among the clerical classes, of the effigial tomb as a focus of memory and a stimulus to the performance of suffrages. Tombs of this type were additionally important as a legitimate part of the dossier of sanctity for potential saints in a period when clerical canonisation and so the recording of miracles at tombs remained of formidable importance.

Monasteries, which benefited economically from the possession of the saints’ relics and aristocratic remains, continued, with the new Mendicant Orders, to compete for lay burial. The thirteenth century saw the formation of royal mausolea under the protection of religious orders: the French royal family and sovereigns were buried at Cistercian Royaumont and Benedictine Saint-Denis respectively; the house of Castile was commemorated at Cistercian Las Huelgas, near Burgos; and the Plantagenets formed a royal mausoleum at Benedictine Westminster. All were accompanied by unprecedentedly rich tomb programmes, and the tendency remained to focus such mausolea on the shrines of saints of national importance.

Burial was in this sense tied up with the construction of national history. By the thirteenth century the older Benedictine burial establishments, notably Saint-Denis and Westminster, were all centres of formal chronicle writing. As royal mausolea came to express notions of dynastic continuity, so too the process of historical writing could substantiate this formalised presentation of the past.

But the pull of devotional loyalty to other religious orders in the thirteenth century was sufficiently strong to warrant the division of royal bodies by mortuary practice in such a way that the head and body of a sovereign (which in canon law marked the official place of burial) could go to the established mausoleum, the heart (the focus of devotional loyalty) to a Cistercian or Mendicant house.

Bodily subdivision, of which a remarkable example is provided by the multiple burials and associated monuments of Queen Eleanor of Castile (d. 1290) at Lincoln, Westminster and the Dominican house in London, was a solution to the complexities of competing historical and devotional loyalties. Its importance was such that Boniface VIII’s attempt in 1299 to ban this essentially aristocratic practice failed.

Doctrinal change, together with the new momentum lent to lay spirituality by episcopal legislation and the Mendicant Orders, was thus implicated in the development of several artistic genres, altarpieces, Books of Hours, illustrated penitential manuals, tombs and chantries being amongst the most important.

All these genres served instrumentally to support the implications of clarified sacramental and purgatorial doctrine. Changes in the Gothic system of representation which served to stress the rhetorical projection of spiritual states in a new naturalistic vein served equally the instrumental power of these new images, and formed the basis for the development of much late medieval religious art."

From Paul Binski, University Lecturer in History of Art and Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge: Chapter 4 Art and Architecture in The New Cambridge Medieval History Volume V (1198 and 1300) (2008)

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Thirteenth century religious art - Part I

Attributed to the "Master of Naumburg"
West choir (rood) screen (Westlettner) with Passion frieze, Naumburg Cathedral, ca. 1249-1255
Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, Naumburg (Saxony-Anhalt), Germany

Attributed to the "Master of Naumburg"
West Choir Screen Body of Crucified Christ on central post of opening to choir
Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, Naumburg (Saxony-Anhalt), Germany

Attributed to the "Master of Naumburg"
Passion frieze [right portion], detail from the West Choir (Rood) Screen
Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, Naumburg (Saxony-Anhalt), Germany

Attributed to the "Master of Naumburg"
The Last Supper; detail from far left portion of the Passion frieze, West Choir (Rood) Screen (Westlettner),
Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, Naumburg (Saxony-Anhalt), Germany

Attributed to the "Master of Naumburg"
Judas receiving thirty pieces of silver; detail from left portion of the Passion frieze, West Choir (Rood) Screen
Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, Naumburg (Saxony-Anhalt), Germany

Attributed to the "Master of Naumburg"
The Arrest of Christ in the Garden of Gethsemne; Denial of Peter; detail from LC. portion of the Passion frieze, West Choir (Rood) Screen
Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, Naumburg (Saxony-Anhalt), Germany

Attributed to the "Master of Naumburg"
Two Guards; Pilate washing his hands after judging Christ; detail from RC. portion of the Passion frieze, West Choir (Rood) Screen
Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, Naumburg (Saxony-Anhalt), Germany

Attributed to the "Master of Naumburg"
Sorrowing Virgin Mary; left figure from central Crucifixion group, West Choir (Rood) Screen
Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, Naumburg (Saxony-Anhalt), Germany

Attributed to the "Master of Naumburg"
Sorrowing St. John the Evangelist; right figure from central Crucifixion group, West Choir (Rood) Screen
Cathedral of St. Peter and St. Paul, Naumburg (Saxony-Anhalt), Germany

Naumburg Cathedral is a structure that has remained to a great extent unchanged in its late Romanesque/early Gothic use of forms.

Its main construction period extends from 1213 to approximately 1250.

It has a late Romanesque east rood-screen which is the oldest hall rood-screen preserved in its complete form on German soil. A further choir was added to the main building around 1250 to approximately 1260 in the west that ends in a 5/8 polygon. It is connected to the middle vessel by means of a wall rood-screen that presents an artistic achievement of the highest order combining architecture, vegetable architectural ornamentation and figural sculptures (especially the six relief images from Christ's suffering). The cycle of the figures of the 12 founders are lined in a row on shoulders in the harmoniously proportioned choir room. This is the outstanding work of an artist whose name is not known, but who is designated as the Naumburg Master.

Naumburg Cathedral was secularised after the introduction of the Reformation and administered by administrators. Today, it is in the possession of the Lutheran Chapterhouse and is used for church services.


Matthew Paris OSB (c. 1200 – 1259)
Jesus Mary John
Below L. Head of the dying Christ. On R. Head of Christ full-face with jewelled collar of tunic
From Chronica Maiora I
Manuscript 26
Vellum, 260 x 195 mm (14.2 x 9.6 in.),
Parker Library at Corpus Christi College, Cambridge

"The thirteenth century was one in which the relationship between the local and the universal underwent a crisis partly because the centre was defining itself with a vigour and authority never before seen – the canons of the Fourth Lateran Council in 1215 are held to be a central document of this process of systematic definition of orthodoxy in the face of heterodox belief. Notwithstanding what has been said already about the importance of seigneurial art, the patronage of the bishops in sustaining cathedral construction and the innovation of such genres as the canopied effigial tomb appears more important than ever.

The relationship between this clerical drive to order and the aesthetic and religious experience of the laity was now vital. We can trace it in three areas especially: the use and dissemination of images, the theology of the sacraments and the doctrine of Purgatory.

We turn first to the function and character of images.

By the thirteenth century the cultural traditions of Latin and Greek Christianity which concerned images and relics had begun to converge. Early medieval western Christianity had accorded to the relics of the saints an importance which the Greek Church attached to images, icons especially. Latin art and architecture had thus focused to a great extent on shrines and pilgrimage. In the Greek Church images were ontologically closer to relics, and in a sense enjoyed greater power for this reason

During the eleventh and twelfth centuries the eastern and western approaches to relics and images drew closer together. Latin spirituality, especially that fostered within the monastic orders by such figures as St Anselm and St Bernard, was coming to lay greater emphasis on the importance of the humanity of Christ.

It is for this reason that issues such as the sacrament of the Mass and the theology of the resurrection and of the bodily Assumption of the Virgin Mary enjoyed such prominence in twelfth century theological debate.

This theology of the Christian body was stimulated further by the spread from eastern Orthodox monasticism of liturgical and devotional practices which placed a premium on the role of images within liturgical and meditative practice. By 1200, and certainly after the sack of Constantinople in 1204, the images associated with these practices – principally icons – became much more widely known in the west, at first in clerical and then in lay circles.

The outcome of these developments was the gradual emergence of the `image-relic’, and so of a visual culture increasingly common both to Latin and Orthodox Christianity. This culture sustained an interest in local subjects and sites of devotion – the power of the saints was as widely felt in the thirteenth century as before – but supplemented it with a more universal imagery of Christ and the Virgin Mary.

Image-relics like the Roman image of the Veronica, the Holy Face of Christ, provided a vital arena of devotional and imaginative liberation, and it is in this period that essentially late medieval themes such as the Man of Sorrows and the Arma Christi gained additional importance by having indulgences attached to them, like that composed by Innocent III for the Veronica. The image-relic, then, was implicated not only in the rise of the economy of Purgatorial indulgence, but also in a quite fundamental shift in the focuses of religious attention towards the universal holy body of Christ.

The impact of these changes was widespread. Access to images (which meant primarily their reproduction) gained in importance as a means to salvation.

This favoured the mass-production of those painted panels and illuminated manuscripts which included images of this new devotional type. The expressive content of images changed too: as theological emphasis shifted progressively towards meditation upon the humanity, joy and suffering of Christ and Mary, so the expressive range of images widened to reflect new rhetorical ideals, and in such a way as to implicate the spectator at a more intimate level.

Images address psychological states of mind in the thirteenth century in a way not true previously, and this new attention is intimately bound up with what is often called Gothic naturalism: thus religious images for the first time in western art smile, or express grief. The intense, pathetic world of the icon and the lamentation image became a common visual currency, which the thirteenth-century Latin Church helped to consolidate and institutionalise.

Their most outstanding visual expressions were eventually to be found in central Italian wall and panel painting from the late thirteenth century, though the tendency can also be followed from the mid-century in northern Gothic art, as for example in the sculptures of the rood screen at Naumburg cathedral and on the west façade of Rheims cathedral. Even the most conservative commentators, such as Matthew Paris, the xenophobic midthirteenth-century Benedictine historian-artist at St Albans Abbey, took note.

Matthew’s Chronica Majora of c. 1250 includes some of the first western representations of the Man of Sorrows and the Stigmatisation of St Francis (in 1224), perhaps the most widely known manifestation of the new theology of the body."

From Paul Binski, University Lecturer in History of Art and Fellow of Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge: Chapter 4 Art and Architecture in The New Cambridge Medieval History Volume V (1198 and 1300) (2008)

Saturday, February 13, 2010

The Coronation of the Virgin

Nardo di Cione (active 1343; d. 1365/66)
The Coronation of the Virgin 1340s-1360s
Tempera on poplar with pointed arched top
46 ½ x 30 ½ (118 x 77.5), thickness of panel 1 ½ (3.8)
The Victoria and Albert Museum, London


Nardo was the brother - reputedly the eldest - of Andrea (Orcagna) and Jacopo di Cione. He seems to have shared a workshop with Orcagna. The brothers produced works such as the frescoes in the Strozzi Chapel of Santa Maria Novella of the Last Judgement, Paradise and Hell.

Nardo di Cione was one of the most outstanding of the second generation of Giotto followers in Florence

It is worthwhile comparng the above treatment with that of his brother Jacopo di Cione (b Florence, 1320–30; d Florence, after 2 May 1398, before 1400). Jacopo`s work is in the Accademia in Florence. It may also give an idea of what the full work in the Victoria and Albert Museum may have been like. See below.

Jacopo di Cione (ca.1330-1398)
The Coronation of the Virgin with Angels and Saints
Tempera on panel 350 x 190 cm
Galleria dell`Accademia, Florence


It is said that the theme of the Coronation of the Virgin showing Christ actually crowning the Virgin appears to have originated in England in the first half of the 12th century.

It became an immensely popular theme in 14th century Italian painting. The subject of The Coronation of the Virgin achieved great popularity in 14th-century Italy, in line with the growth of the cult of the Virgin Mary.

The panel of 'The Coronation of the Virgin' would in all probability once have formed the central panel of a large polyptych for a Florentine chapel.

The basic template in Florence for the subject was Giotto's Baroncelli Polyptych of the second quarter of the 14th century . See below.

Giotto di Bondone
(b. 1267,- d. 1337)
Baroncelli Polyptych: Coronation of the Virgin
c. 1334
Tempera on wood
Baroncelli Chapel, Santa Croce, Florence

Mary and Christ sit on a broad throne. Mary bows her head reverently in order to receive the celestial crown from the hands of her Son. Mother and Son form a whole through their gestures. The elegance of their clothing, in particular the trumpet-shaped sleeves on Christ's robe, indicates a great affinity with the style of courtly Gothic.

It is this iconography of The Coronation which at the time of Giotto, di Cione and for some time thereafter which was the one which carried official sanction. See the mosaic of The Coronation of the Virgin in Santa Maria Maggiore below.



Jacopo Torriti (active c. 1270-1300)
Coronation of the Virgin
1296
Mosaic
Santa Maria Maggiore, Rome

Pope Nicholas IV, the first Franciscan pope, commissioned the mosaic decoration of the apse of Santa Maria Maggiore, replacing the fifth-century mosaic but without entirely changing the original subject matter and retaining the bust of the Saviour, believed to have appeared miraculously at the time of the basilica's consecration. The artist was also a Franciscan. The work was paid for by Cardinals Giacomo and Pietro Colonna.

But these are not just beautiful images. They illustrate and highlight a powerful truth.

In 1998 the Albanian Jesuit, Father P Luli SJ gave a talk on the contemplation of Mary, crowned Queen of Heaven. It is on the Vatican website.

It is a particularly eloquent testimony of a brave priest to the last glorious mystery whose life was led under the terrible communist regime in Albania. Here it is in full:

"We are invited in this last glorious mystery to lift our gaze toward heaven and to contemplate the glory of Mary, crowned Queen of Heaven and earth, Queen of the angels and saints.

The coronation of Mary, her participation in the glory of her Risen Son is the fulfillment of a life lived in fidelity to the plan of God for her, a fidelity which has made the journey through the terrible mystery of suffering and of the cross.

Truthfully, the final images which the Gospel gives us of Mary are those of her standing under the cross of her Son, and the other, no less significant, which shows her in prayer in the Upper Room with the nascent Church. Mary is the example of faithfulness alongside her Son Jesus which brings to fulfillment his salvific mission with the gift of his own life. She is an example of fidelity for the Church which from Christ continues the work of salvation

And so Mary, my dear brother priests, becomes the "mirror" of our priestly mission, a model of how to live our lives, even when the shadow of the cross, of temptation, of loneliness, casts itself over our life.

I praise the Lord who has given to me, his poor and weak minister, the grace to remain faithful in a life practically lived in darkness. Only his grace was able to do this.

I an Albanian and all of you know that my country is only now coming out of the darkness of a communist dictatorship which was among the most cruel and insensitive and which poured out its hatred toward all who were in any way able to speak about God. Many of my companions died as martyrs; it has been left to me to live. I entered prison in 1947, after a false and unjust trial; I had nearly finished my formation. I endured 17 years actually confined in prison and many others at forced labor. Practically I knew what freedom was at 80 years of age when, in 1989, I was able to say my first Mass with people. Humanly speaking, I had been deprived of the right to live.

But today, examining my life, I consider that it has been a miracle of the grace of God and I am amazed to have under gone so much suffering, with a force that was not my own, maintaining a peacefulness which cannot have any other source but the heart of God.

They oppressed me with every type of torture: when they arrested me the first time they kept me for nine months in a closet; I had to crouch down on the ground on dried excrement without being able to stretch out completely, the enclosure was also narrow. Christmas Eve night of that first month, still in the same enclosure, they made me strip and hung me by a rope from a rafter in such a way that I could touch the ground only on tiptoe. It turned cold. I felt the ice which accumulated along my body; it was like a slow death; when the ice was close to my chest I let out a desperate scream. My jailers rushed in, they covered me with lime and then took me down. They tortured me often with electric current; they attached the two contacts to my ears; it was a horrible thing, horrible. For some time they left me, bound hand and foot with wire, laying on the ground in complete darkness where there were large sewer rats. The rats scampered around on me while I was not able to catch them. The wire on my wrists cut into my flesh. I have lived a nightmare of continual interrogations which were always accompanied by physical torture; I remembered the violence done to Jesus when he was questioned before the High Priest.

One time they placed sheets of paper and a pen before me and told me: "Write a full confession of your crimes and if you are sincere we can let you go home. "To avoid their blows and clubs, I began to fill some pages with names of the dead or of those killed whom I had not seen. At the end I added: "Nothing that I have written is true, but I wrote it because I was forced to do so. The official began to read it with a smile of satisfaction, sure that he has succeeded in breaking me, but when he got to the last lines, he struck me and, cursing me, handed me over to the police to drag me away while he shouted: "We know how to make this filth talk."

When I left the prison, I had to work as a farm laborer for a State agency; I was sent to work in the recovery of swamp land. It was tiresome work and there was little food and we were reduced to human skeletons; when one of us fell, he would be left to die in the mud. But at that time I also began secretly to say Mass by myself from the Offertory to the Communion. I had obtained for myself a little wine and some hosts; but I could not trust anyone because if I had been discovered I would have been shot. I continued in this work for eleven years.

On April 30, 1979, I was arrested for the second time and they took me to Scutari and searched me. I had nothing but my rosary, a penknife and a watch. After the search they opened a door and threw me into a cell. I knew that I was coming to a new Calvary. However, it was at that time that I had an extraordinary inner experience which reminded me in some way of the "transfiguration" of Jesus, by which He drew strength while going forth to suffer. He went up on the mountain, I seemed at the beginning to be buried in the ground. Gradually, discouragement was replaced by an extraordinary presence of the Lord. It was as though He was standing in front of me and I was able to speak with Him. It was determined for me at that moment that I would again be tortured and under go a new trial. On November 6, 1979, they condemned me to death by firing squad. The accusation: sabotage, anti- government propaganda . . . . However, two days later, the death penalty was commuted to 25 years in prison.

And so my life has continued. But I do not have in my heart any feelings of hatred. One day, after my amnesty, encountering one of my torturers, I felt the inner urge to greet him and embrace him. The formation of the Society had accustomed me to the idea that fidelity to Jesus is that which is most valuable in the life of a Jesuit and that at times this had to be paid for at a great cost. Even the price of one’s life.

Today, contemplating the glory of Mary in heaven and thinking that this experience of future happiness with God is possible even for us, I cannot help but report to you, my dear brother priests, the words of Saint Paul: "In my estimation, all that we suffer in the present time is nothing in comparison with the glory which is destined to be disclosed for us. " (Rm 8:18)

Contemplating the glory of Mary in heaven, we remain faithful, standing upright, with strength and dignity under the cross of Jesus, in whatever way the cross might be present in our life. We are the people chosen by the Love of Christ. What can ever separate us from this Love? This is the message of my life experience: in all my suffering and temptations "we come through all these things triumphantly victorious by the power of Him who loved us." (Rm 8: 37)

Blessed Virgin Mary, Queen of Angels and Saints, Queen of martyrs, known and unknown, pray for us, sustain us and grant that we be together with you, in the fullness of life and happiness which Jesus has promised. Amen. "

Friday, February 12, 2010

Requiescat

Out of charity please pray for the repose of the soul of an old friend, Marian Brotherstone who died unexpectedly recently. She was a beloved mother, grandmother and great-grandmother. She was a lively and kind person who will be sorely missed by all her family and her very many friends.

Requiescat in pace

Reading for Lent

Preparation for Lent, in a Hymnal
Year: 1050
Ink and pigments on vellum
The British Library, London

The British Library Catalogue says of this Hymnal:

"Believed to have been at Hartland Abbey, Devon, in the later middle ages, this hymnal's origins are unknown. It was made during the late Anglo-Saxon period (11th century) and has Old English words written above the Latin verses to translate or explain (glosses) as well as paraphrases of the hymns in Old English and Latin. It has at least three sections, each of which appears to have been copied from hymnals associated with different places (Winchester, Canterbury, plus special verses for monks--monastic canticles). Monks or nuns would have sung the hymns during their daily prayer services.


On the ninth Sunday before Easter (Septuagesima), Anglo-Saxon monks and nuns would have begun preparing themselves for the rigors of Lent. Their daily prayer services would shed all signs of rejoicing, and the expression of joy, 'Alleluia', would not be sung again until Easter. Sung at Septuagesima, this hymn represents the solemn farewell to joy. The refrain has Old English equivalents of the Latin words written between the lines in red."

The website Love the Church! has a good idea and resource. For Lent it has compiled Lenten Reading Plans

They consist of

1. Church Fathers Lenten Reading Plan (read selections from several of the Church Fathers; each day during Lent, except Sundays and the Sacred Triduum)

2. Lives of the Great Saints Lenten Reading Plan (read the lives of the great saints – as related by Pope Benedict XVI – of the Medieval to Early Renaissance periods; each day during Lent, including Sundays and the Sacred Triduum)

3. Father Faber and Cardinal Newman Lenten Reading Plan (read daily selections from the writings of Fr. Faber on the virtue of kindness, and Cardinal Newman’s meditations on Christian hope and the Resurrection of Christ; each day including Sundays and the Sacred Triduum)

4. St. John Mary Vianney Lenten Reading Plan – in honour of the Year for Priests (read daily selections from the catecheses, exhortations, and sermon excerpts of the Patron Saint for parish priests; each day including Sundays and the Sacred Triduum)

It is a great resource provided by Fr Jerabek of Huntsville, Alabama. All the resources which are easy to access would normally take a great deal of time to access.

For instance you would only get the entire talks of Pope Benedict XVI on the subject of the Great Saints after using the Vatican website or if in a number of months they are reproduced altogether in book form.

The second with the talks by Pope Benedict XVI on the LIves of the Great Saints is my particular favourite. I have been following these talks on Church history with great interest. They are thoughtful, deep and rewarding. I have often posted extracts on this site.

Pope Benedict XVI is of course a great and experienced teacher and preacher. He does make what many would feel to be an extremely dull subject lively interesting and relevant. His comments about the parallels between life then and life now often illuminate much about the Pope and his thought.