Medieval Rome: Santa Maria in Trastevere.
When one thinks about Rome, the late Middle Ages are not exactly the first period that comes to mind, nor the most defining one for the Eternal City. When one thinks about Medieval art in Rome, one usually thinks about mosaics and not frescoes. One wouldn’t be wrong. When we think of the Italian Middle Ages, we imagine the great cycles of frescoes in Florence, Siena or Assisi, we think of Lorenzetti and Giotto and their first attempt at realism, we think of their stunning blue backgrounds, we think of their golden altarpieces which are still remindful of Byzantium in a way, for most people, our idea of Medieval Italian art is somewhat clear. When we think of late Medieval Rome, we have to remember that much of it has since been lost, modified, hidden - frescoes were not unheard of, we have fine late Medieval frescoes at the Lateran, at the nearby S. Quattro Coronati and recently they found some fragments of Pietro Cavallini’s frescoes in S. Maria in Aracoeli and in Santa Cecilia in Trastevere.
Now, if we go visit the main church in this area, Santa Maria in Trastevere, we will find a glorious set of late Medieval mosaics by Pietro Cavallini, illustrating the life of Mary, right in the apse, beneath the main mosaic. Why did late Medieval Rome choose mosaics? They evoked the imperial grandeur of Ancient Rome, the glorious origins; the great mosaics at S. Pudenziana, S. Mary Major or the Mausoleum of S. Costanza. Mosaics in Rome are tradition. In the following centuries, mosaics kept being commissioned in Rome. Following this use, we have fine albeit later examples at S. Marco and S. Maria Nova; we have Byzantines examples too, like the San Zeno cycle in Santa Prassede, and of course, the later but great mosaics by Jacopo Torriti at Saint Mary Major. We even have Renaissance mosaics by Melozzo da Forlì, pictor papalis to Sixtus IV (the Sistine Chapel man), at S. Croce in Gerusalemme. Rome was a city of mosaics. Santa Maria in Trastevere followed in this tradition.
Now, let us just for a moment skip forward to the Renaissance; Giotto had already supplanted Ciambue in terms of general fame and he was praised for his great skills. It is because of his love for Giotto that Lorenzo Ghiberti praised the name of Pietro Cavallini as well, he held the position that the master was faithful to the ancient techniques, the Greek one and that he was among the wisest among all the other masters”. So why did the man who started the Renaissance with the bronze doors of Florence’s Battistero come to love our Cavallini? It was probably because of those same characteristics that Giorgio Vasari praised, he was the great Renaissance chronicler who wrote the Lives of the Artists. He believed Cavallini had an innovative style rooted in the Byzantine tradition and this is why he proclaimed Cavallini as Giotto’s pupil and inheritor.
Bertoldo Stefaneschi who was Giacomo’s brother, friend and amanuensis to the pope, was planning his funeral monument for the basilica and also happily took the commission for the preparation of the upcoming celebrations in the basilica. He paid for the restoration of the older apsidal mosaic and he was the one who commissioned Pietro Cavallini to illustrate the stories of the life of Mary in a series of mosaics in the blank space beneath the earlier mosaic. Beneath the cycle, there is a “signature” in the form of a mosaic where Stefaneschi, shown as the donor, is dedicating his commission to the Virgin and Christ with Peter and Paul watching over the scene in their roles as patron saints of the Eternal City.
The choice of Cavallini who was already a renowned master shows that this was a grand project. He signed this work as pictor romanus - probably the first artist in Rome to start a new naturalistic art, with its use of a tridimensional space, references to classical art and a great expressionism, that would mark the beginning of a new rebirth that would for ever change the arts in the Italian peninsula. This is also his main and most complete work in Rome, as the fragments in S. Cecilia and at the Aracoeli are not complete and his major work at S. Paul’s-outside-the-Walls was destroyed by fire at the turn of the 19th century.
The cycle is divided into six different scenes depicting the life of Mary. The first scene is the Birth of the Virgin. It takes places in an intimate domestic space, a bedchamber, where Anne is being tended to by various servants providing refreshments. Another servant is pouring water into a golden tub, while the fourth woman is holding the baby Mary. In an odd iconographic choice, Mary stares out to us. The room is decorated with fine wall hangings and precious materials reflecting the status of the mother of God. Cavallini really lays the foundations for what will be the Renaissance norm for this particular iconography.
The following scene is the Annunciation. It is ahead of it its time. It takes place in an unusually Gothic setting for Rome. The archangel Gabriel appears to have just flown into the scene, with his toga still moving and his colored wings showing his important rank in pure Medieval fashion. Mary is now an adult in what is now her distinctive blue cloak, she is sitting in a Gothic throne which allows Cavallini to show off his advanced perspective skills. Despite the Medieval stoicism, the scene is quite dramatic and it gives us a due sense of solemnity. Mary looks stiff and afraid but she has accepted her salvific mission, through the Holy Spirit being sent down directly by God the Father; Christ will become incarnate through her, her throne almost reminds us of her role as God’s own earthly tabernacle. The three-flowered plants are a reference to the Holy Trinity, the tray of figs is a reference to her fertility. Below her are the words: “Blessed art thou amongst women”.
The central scene is perhaps also the most significant highlight in the mosaic cycle. The mystery of the Incarnation has taken place, God has been made flesh, his path to our salvation is open before us, the Passion is ahead. The Nativity is taking place in a rocky mountain landscape, where Mary and Joseph have taken refuge inside of a cave, beneath the light of an eight-pointed star. An exhausted Mary has just given birth and reclines next to the manger where Christ is being taken care of by the ox and ass. Joseph isn’t actually asleep, but is actually contemplating the mystery of the Incarnation. To the right, the angel is carrying a banner which reads: “I bring unto thee, good tidings of great joy” to the shepherd. A boy is playing music to a flock of sheep who drink from a river, a stream of oil flows into it from a nearby building; this is a reference to the Taberna Meritoria, a legend in which fresh oil miraculously gushed out from a tavern that used to be located on the site of the church which became known as the Fons Olei and functions as the foundational narrative for the church of Santa Maria in Trastevere. Fons Olei remains as one of the names of this Roman shrine to this day.
In the following scene is a depiction of the Adoration of the Magi. The scene is illumined by an eight-pointed star which is guiding the kings from the east towards the Holy Family’s shelter. According to legend, the mystic Zoroaster had foretold the coming of a child who would become the “King of the Jews” and the wise men were aware of this. The appearance of the star convinced them to start the journey. When the kings arrived in Bethlehem, the star vanished. The three kings, guided by the angels, are shown as a representation of the three ages of man: a young Gaspar bringing myrrh, a middle aged Balthazar, carrying frankincense, and finally an elder Melchior, carrying a tray of gold to the Messiah. The iconography of the Holy Family is classical; Joseph is in a toga, while Mary is sitting in a classical throne.
The following scene is the Presentation of Christ into the Temple. This was a rite of passage for Jewish children, occurring 40 days after birth and it also marks the moment when the mother is once again allowed to re-enter the Jerusalem Temple, provided the family brings a sacrificial offering, usually a lamb - although poorer families could bring two doves, as Joseph is doing in this case. Simeon, the high priest, holds the baby Jesus, much like in our baptism nowadays, while they exchange a tender gaze. This is the moment of Simon’s epiphany, when he knows he is holding the Messiah: “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace according to thy word. For mine eyes have seen thy salvation, Which thou hast prepared before the face of all people; To be a light to lighten the Gentiles and to be the glory of thy people Israel”. This is probably the most representative scene in Cavallini’s work because of his use of perspective, with the architecture of the altar and the structure behind the prophetess Anna which seem to recede in space giving a strong sense of depth.
Cavallini’s fine cycle on the Life of the Virgin ends with the falling asleep of the Virgin. The Dormitio Virginis was the usual theology regarding the moving on of Mary to her heavenly life and it would persist to exist in Italian iconography up until the 16th century when it gradually begun to make way for an iconography of the Assumption, although for a while, the two merged, as in the case of the Pintoricchio Assumption at Santa Maria del Popolo. In the scene of the falling asleep of Mary, she is lying peacefully on a funereal catafalque, she is trapped in her distinctive blue robes, her arms are traditionally crossed on her lap, and indeed she seems to be asleep. Around her are Christ’s apostles mourning her passing. The pathos transpires the mosaic tiles and it is neither Byzantine nor Medieval, in the strong emotions it gives off; Paul is weeping at her feet, while Peter is swinging a thurible, performing the funeral rites, as is proper for the head of the Church on earth when it comes to the death of the Mother of God. At this point, the whole cycle ends with the coming of Christ in a mandorla gathering the infant-sized spirit of Mary into his arms, reminding us that yes, she is his mother, but God is alpha and omega, beginning and end, he was before, he is now and will be for ever. They head towards the celestial spheres in a scene in which Christ’s two reigns are meeting in an iconographical triumph.
If you’re in Rome or coming to Rome at some point in the future, you will surely spend some time hanging out in Trastevere. When you do, look at that big church, go in, and admire this wonderful cycle of frescoes, especially as it was commissioned for the first ever Jubilee, you can do so at the time of the next 2025 Jubilee.
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