Assisi Cathedral

Stand still for a moment in the piazza. The paving stones under your feet are pale and smooth. The facade in front of you has the same warm pink and cream colour of the stone from nearby Monte Subasio. In the late afternoon that stone holds the light like a lamp. Swallows cut across the square. A bell may sound from the tower beside you... and the whole hillside town seems to settle into the sound.

This is the Cathedral of San Rufino, the seat of the bishop of Assisi. Most visitors climb past it on their way somewhere else. They head down to the great Basilica of Saint Francis, or across to Santa Chiara. That is a pity. Some of the most personal moments in the story of Francis and Clare happened right here, in the upper part of town.

First, the name. The church is dedicated to Saint Rufinus, whom tradition remembers as the first bishop of Assisi. According to local tradition, he was martyred in the early Christian centuries, and his remains were brought to this spot. Several churches have stood here over the centuries, one replacing the next. The building you see now was begun in the twelfth century, in 1140, and its design is credited to a master builder named Giovanni da Gubbio.

Now look up at the facade. It is a fine example of Umbrian Romanesque — the round-arched, solid style that spread across Europe before the Gothic period. The front is divided into three horizontal bands. At the bottom are three doorways. In the middle is a delicate arcade of small arches. Above that sit three rose windows, round windows filled with stone tracery, like the spokes of a wheel.

The central rose window deserves a long look. Around it are carved figures representing the four Evangelists, the writers of the four Gospels. Each one is shown through its traditional symbol — a man, a lion, an ox, and an eagle. Below the window, small carved figures seem to hold up the whole circle on their shoulders. It is a simple idea, and a powerful one. Faith is shown as something people carry.

Lower down, around the main doorway, the carving becomes almost playful. Look for the stone lions at the entrance, worn smooth by centuries of weather and hands. Look too at the curved lunette above the door. A lunette is the half-moon space over a doorway. Here it shows Christ enthroned, with figures at his sides. Vines, animals and strange creatures twist through the decoration around it, the way medieval carvers liked to fill every surface.

Here is the first surprise. Inside, near the entrance, is the baptismal font. According to strong local tradition, both Saint Francis and Saint Clare were baptised at this font, in the late twelfth century. At that time, this was the parish church for the upper town. Children born here were brought to this font. Tradition adds a third name — the future Holy Roman Emperor Frederick the Second. That story is told locally, but it is best treated as a tale rather than a certainty.

Think about what that means. Two of the most famous figures in Christian history began their lives in the faith at the same stone basin, only a few streets from each other. Clare was born into a noble family, and her family home stood on this very piazza. As a girl she could look out at this facade. Francis, a merchant's son, grew up a short walk away. Later, Francis would preach in this cathedral, and the young Clare listened.

Now step inside properly. Many visitors feel a small shock here. After that ancient Romanesque front, the interior looks much later and much cooler in style. That is because the inside was remodelled in the sixteenth century by the architect Galeazzo Alessi. He gave it the calm, ordered lines of the late Renaissance. So you are standing in a building with two faces — a medieval front and a Renaissance interior.

The second surprise lies under your feet. Beneath the cathedral, and partly below the piazza, are much older layers. The town of Assisi was a Roman settlement, and Roman stonework still survives in this area. The bell tower beside the facade is said to stand on top of an ancient Roman cistern, a large underground water tank. Below the church there is also a crypt from an earlier building on this site, connected with the cult of Saint Rufinus.

That crypt, when it is open, is quiet and low. The air is cooler, the light is dim, and the stone feels older. It belonged to the church that came before the present one. Visitors often walk straight past the entrance. Here the layers of Assisi become easy to understand. Roman water, early Christian memory, a medieval cathedral above, and a Renaissance interior on top of that.

Back in the piazza, notice how this square works as a stage. On one side, the facade. Around it, ordinary houses with geranium pots on the windowsills. Stone lanes run down from the square toward the rest of the town. In the early morning you may see residents crossing with bread, or a priest unlocking a side door. This is not a monument set apart. It is still a neighbourhood church in daily use.

The adjoining museum, run by the cathedral, holds paintings and objects connected with the history of the diocese and the church. If you have time, it adds depth to what you have seen. But even if you stay only outside, you can read a great deal from the facade itself. You can see the patience of the carvers, the pink stone, and the rose windows that catch the setting sun.

Before you leave, turn and face the cathedral once more. Find the central rose window, the small figures holding it up, and the worn lions by the door. Somewhere behind that door is the font where two children named Francis and Clare were brought, long before anyone knew their names. As you walk down the lane, listen for the bell again... and notice how quiet the upper town is, compared with the crowds below.