Transcription
C O P Y No. 7 Perugia, Easter Sunday, 1951
Dear Family:
We seem to have bitten off more than we can chew, and now it’s beginning to catch up with us. We are already two days behind schedule, and now because we’ve run into bad weather we hate to leave here today. Last night Daddy wired the car rent places, and we hope to be able to return our Fiat two days late and pick up our French Ford two days late which will help some. This morning Daddy has driven back through snow and sleet to revisit Assisi while we stay here to catch up on reading and letters. John may venture out to have a look around Perugia, and if the snow stops I may have a look around myself.
On Good Friday, having spent the night before in Rome, we were supposed to push on, but because we still had so much sightseeing and so many errands to do we decided to stay over another night and not have to rush so. The first thing we did Friday morning was to go over to St. Peters. Daddy hadn’t gone inside the last time we were in Rome because he wanted to be with us. Going inside for the second time was much more thrilling for us than the first time. Because it was Good Friday there were crowds of people going up the broad steps and through the enormous gate, and inside they seemed to disappear in the vast interior. As we entered we heard from the far end a choir singing the last strains of an anthem. It made all the difference in the world because it transformed St. Peters into a warm and living church. In many of the side chapels candles were burning and people were worshipping. It was quite different from the week day in January when we had first seen it.
Then we drove over to the Trevi Fountain, one of THE fountains of Rome. It covers the whole side of a building and practically fills the small square. It is about as baroque as you can get, filled with rearing horses and sea gods, etc., but still is quite impressive, and we got some good pictures of it.
Later:
John and I just got back from a short exploration around Perugia which was definitely worth the wet streets and icy wind. It is built on top of a hill, and like some of the other hill towns we’ve visited, many of the streets are nothing more than flights of steps between the buildings. We stopped in at the cathedral, planning to stand at the back and be as inconspicuous as possible, and we were surprised to see how informal the service was. There were separate services being conducted and three different altars, the main one being at the high altar at the end. Behind this a choir was singing the mass, and most of the people were standing or kneeling in front of it. The altar was covered with rich gold candelabra and other paraphernalia which gleamed in the candlelight. The other altars were smaller, but otherwise nearly the same. Evidently there is no set time, because the middle of the church was filled with people coming and going. We stayed quite a while listening to the organ and the choir. I’m so glad we went because it gave us a spirit of Easter that otherwise we would have missed except for the bells this morning. They began at six o’clock, starting first one and then another, and then another, until it seemed as if there must be a hundred churches here.
On Friday afternoon in Rome we drove over to the Piazza Di Spagna where Cousin Jule [sic] McBride had studied for a year and which she had given Daddy explicit directions of things inside not to miss. It turned out to be a French convent, and although the nun who answered the door could only speak a little English, we were able to tell her enough in our poor French so that she understood what we wanted to see. She showed us the little chapel that contains the madonna [sic] that Cousin Jule [sic] had told Daddy about, and the study hall with the beautiful frescoed walls and ceiling. Then she very kindly took us out into the garden and showed us the cloisters, pointing out an especially good spot for a photograph which Daddy took, and last she showed us through the church which the nuns were busy decorating for Easter. It makes all the difference in the world to see a church either during a service or being prepared for one. It takes away the austerity that many of them seem to have when they’re empty.
That same afternoon Daddy went over to the colosseum and John and I went to a film production of the Saint Matthew Passion. We had no idea what it would be like, but we knew we’d love the music no matter what the film was like. It turned out to exceed our highest expectations. The story of the Passion was told entirely by close-ups of the very best Italian Renaissance paintings, with the camera moving effectively from one figure to another or moving up for close-ups of faces or hands. Unfortunately the audience left something to be desired and we were somewhat distracted by whispering, smoking, coughing, etc., but even so it was a performance we’ll always remember.
The highlight of yesterday was our visit to Assisi. We arrived about the middle of the afternoon, having driven from Rome through drizzle and rain. But the weather and everything else was forgotten the moment we passed in the door of the Basilica of Saint Francis. The entrance is through the crypt which was so dark that we had to wait for our eyes to get used to the dim rays coming through the small jewel-like stained glass windows. Someone was playing the organ and the sound seemed to fill the whole room. The tomb of St. Francis is in a room beneath the crypt, and it is too moving to try to describe. It is made of rough stone and held inside a great stone column which has one side open. It is so simple that it makes other tombs in churches like St. Peters seem artificial and shallow with their ornate coverings of gold and marble and precious gems. After we left the tomb we went up to the main church above the crypt and looked at the frescoes of St. Francis’ life done by Giotto and his pupils.
We would like to have spent a long while just walking through the narrow, winding, steep streets of Assisi, but it was raining too hard; so we had to be content to drive through as much as we could. There are only about two streets in the whole town which are wide enough for an automobile to pass through, so you can see how much we missed.
Daddy will be here in about a half hour, and we will be anxious to hear about his trip over this morning. Next Sunday we will be up in the lakes, and we’re hoping for a little sunshine.
Love,
JudyTranscriber
Cindi RokeLanguage
English
