Santa Croce is my man. This Franciscan basilica is located in a low-lying district formerly home to lower-class artisans to the east of the other attractions of Florence. Yet a visit is highly recommended. The piazza out front (constructed to hold overflow from church services) is a lovely old thing, full of life. It is here that the games of Calcio Storico (a kind of medieval football match) take place in summer. With sparser crowds than the Piazza del Duomo, Piazza Santa Croce wins the prize for best square in town. (It’s only serious rival is Piazza della Santissima Annunziata; spotlit at night, its daytime aspect is spoiled by wheely-bins and tramps). The church has a distinctive frontage, icing-white, with green inserts like the cathedral, again a 19th century gloss. But it does work! A statue of Dante also stands here. Like most depictions I’ve seen of the poet, he looks well and truly hacked off about something (Exile? Never marrying Beatrice? The fact that Florence is quick to jump on his coat-tails now but did not recognise his talent in life?).
Entrance is via the north portico and costs €5.00. I would also recommend hiring an
audioguide from the stand; it is only €3.00, and is packed with information. It comes with a keyed map – there are 83 snippets. Helpfully, the map also tells you in advice how long each segment is, and which are the most important. Listening only to the latter will cut the running time down to nearer 40 minutes than the full three and a half hours!
Inside restoration of the vast echoing space is ongoing, but you can access most of the points of interest. Start by taking a seat in the pews and gazing around at the immensity. On the counter-façade you can see the statue that inspired Lady Liberty. Used as a sort of pantheon of great Florentines, you can view tombs for the heretical
Galileo,
Michelangelo (who made it quite clear that he wanted to be buried in Rome), that man of impeccably nuanced reputation
Macchiavelli, and the composer
Rossini. There is an empty tomb for
Dante – the damned Ravennese refuse to return him to the city which exiled him. There is also an interesting pulpit. Ground-space was sold off at a hefty premium for tombs, and so the pulpit is clamped to a supporting column, and is actually accessed through a passage cut through the column.
The top of the church is home to a necklace of chapels, dedicated to the greater glory of the very wealthiest families in medieval Florence. Taddeo Gaddi was responsible for most of the frescoes in the Baroncelli chapel, but
Giotto is the man in the Peruzzi and Bardi chapels, to the right of the high altar. The expressions of loss on Giotto’s monks as they mourn the loss of the (clean-shaven) St Francis is tangible, as is the anger of his father higher up. The altarpiece shows further scenes from the life of St Francis and is a much earlier work by another artist, very Byzantine and posed. Here the saint has a beard. By the time of Giotto the Franciscan order had decided that beards smacked of depravity – hence, hey presto, the saint was now depicted smooth-cheeked.
The church was freezing, so it was a relief to exit through the southern wall and get out into the baking sun of the cloister. At is easternmost point is the Pazzi chapel, which is acknowledged as a masterpiece. Apparently. To my eyes it seemed cold, clinical, and overly-rigorous.
Back out in the cloister the tour takes you through to the
Museo dell’Opera di Santa Croce. This is an often-charming repository of the order’s works. It holds some chilling plaster angels (like those in the Doctor Who episode ‘Blink’) and a silver and gold reliquary of St Humiliana. There is some stained glass, including one of a saint riding a burning cart. Finally comes the refectory or Cenacolo, named after Gaddi’s ‘Last Supper’ which dominates the far end. The fresco has now been restored – in the horrific
floods of 1966 the waters of the Arno rose up to ten feet high in this room. The great crucifix by Giotto’s master Cimabue is also shown here. The damage done to this 13th century processional cross was the most heart-breaking residue of the floods, and it cannot be wholly repaired. In contrast Bronzino’s ‘Christ in Limbo’, depicting Christ marching down from heaven to save souls in purgatory, looks freshly painted. It is displayed in its original state. The demons in the top left were overpainted at the time. It was thought that their presence was not appropriate for an altarpiece. Then in the 19th century the nudity suddenly became an issue and the painting was removed from public gaze.
I found my afternoon out east at Santa Croce a good antidote to the massive crush of tourists that you find on the Duomo – Signoria – Uffizi – Ponte Vecchio axis. Obviously there are still a good many sight-seers here, but their numbers are nowhere near as oppressive. A wander across to the Piazza, even if you decide not to enter the basilica, is well worth it. However, I would argue that a look around the church and its attached museum is a fascinating way to spend an hour. The audioguide really adds a lot to the experience too – though I doubt you will have the stamina to listen to the full three and a half hours! But selective listening does entertain and educate.
From journal Florence, Birth-Place of the Renaissance