First Friaries of the Capuchins

P. Édouard d’Alençon

General Archivist of the Friars Minor Capuchin

The First Friaries of the Friars Minor Capuchin

Documents and memories of a journey

Paris
Librairie Saint-François
4, rue Cassette, 4
1912

[Les Premiers Couvents. Des Frėres-mineurs capucins. Documents et Souvenirs de Voyage in Études Franciscaines XXVIII (1912) 484-503, also published as off-print in 1912 with 12 illustrations and in appendix an additional note of just over two pages, written on Epiphany 1913, on the Bull of Pope Nicolas V and the text of a petition of Catherine Cybo, here edited for the first time, to grant the friars the grotto of Saint Mary Magdalene]

[CapDox Editor’s note: this translation was found amongst the files left by the late Fr Paul Hanbridge OFM Cap. It is very much a first translation. It is left as is but it is still a delight to read for those who do not know French and it is a wealth of fine information on the earliest period of the Capuchin Reform. The original French version can be found here: Edouardo d’Alençon, Les Premiers Couvents]

On 3rd July 1528, at the entreaties of his niece, Catherine Cybo, the duchess of Camerino, Clement VII approved with the bull ‘Religionis zelus’ the new Franciscan family of the Friars Minor of the eremitical life, soon afterwards called the Capuchins. They intended to live the life of the first Friars Minor, when, still few in number, they took refuge in the abandoned shed of Rivo Torto, the huts at Portiuncula, the grottoes of Carceri, the hermitages of Greccio and Fontecolombo. The model friary was the shed of Bethlehem, the crevice in the rock where the Lord withdrew when he spent 40 days in the desert. Their ideal was the highest poverty that lived without worry for the next day, having no other riches than the confidence in Providence that feeds the birds. They had as a rule of life to grant the body as little as possible, so that the spirit, freed from material demands, would rise more easily to God; for clothing they had a tight tunic, reaching to the knees, held together by a course cord, with a clumsy hood, and if necessary a short coat over the shoulders.

This life which a papal document of the time in its first edition qualified as almost inhuman,[1] frightening nature; there were, however, souls eager enough for penitence to embrace it and a dwelling place had to be found for the first Friars Minor of the eremitical life, who assembled around the holy religious Matteo da Bascio, the pioneer of this kind of life, and Ludovico da Fossombrone, his enterprising collaborator. Some narrow small bedrooms in the attic of the ducal palace of Camerino had been their first refuge; but they wanted more poverty, solitude and silence, thus the duchess, their patroness got busy looking for a house better adapted to their way of life.

For a long time I had wanted to visit the places where the first years of our family of Capuchin Minors had taken place. Last spring I was finally able to fulfil this wish and in the company of Fr. Joseph of Fermo, the Archivist of our Province of the Marche d’Ancona, I was given the chance to make this pilgrimage to the cradle of our Order. I thought that my travel notes, supported by the documents left to us, would be interesting for those who deal with our history.

The first place where the Capuchins dwelt, after leaving the ducal palace, was a small house adjacent to a chapel dedicated to St. Christopher, east of Camerino, one and a half miles from the gate of the Annunciation. Although they were few, four or five perhaps, the little house, where the priest lived who took care of the modest chapel, was too small to lodge them all. It was summertime and some huts of branches, hidden under the big trees of the forest, were sufficient for our religious, for whom the question of accommodation was of little importance. They were able to live there in peace and had a small chapel to recite the office together.

The hill of Arcofiato, on whose top the humble building stood, was then in the middle of the forest and today still some oaks crown these heights. They have even invaded the site of the small house and the church; all that one can discover are some ruins buried in the grass. Nevertheless, one still makes out very well a small circular apse; in the centre of the aisle an ancient sepulchral vault leaves no doubt about the location of the church. On the side facing Camerino no forest is left on the mountain and a recent tree cutting has brought to the open some stones of the old building and remains of a supporting wall, that must have walled in a small garden. The hillock has still the name St. Christopher, and a young shepherd who looked after some sheep, answered to my travelling companion asking for the name of the place, without any hesitation: San Cristô (san Cristoforo).

In the mind of the Duchess, this shelter was but a temporary solution, because it could not receive the postulants that asked for admission, thus she arranged to get the use of a small old friary, situated still further from the town in a forlorn gorge. Colmenzone was the name of this hermitage, it is still called by the same name today, in the local dialect Cormonzone. Our oldest chroniclers say that it belonged to the Jeromites.

This Congregation had been founded at the very beginning of the 15th century by two Franciscan Tertiaries, Charles of Monte Granello and Gauthier of Marso, near Fiesole. Its members soon gave op the rule of the Third Order to adopt that of Saint Augustine.[2] Another more recent historian assumes that this hermitage was occupied by the Celestin or Clarenine hermits and mentions a bull of Nicolas V[3], dated 4 July 1447, listing among their hermitages that of the Grotto of Saint Magdalene in Colmenzone. By 1473 many Clarenines had returned to the observance and Sixtus IV had given them in Rome the church of Saint Jerome (San Girolamo alla Regola) which he took away from the Jeromites[4]. Given these facts one might perhaps reconcile the two opinions; whatever the case, by 1528 this hermitage, dedicated to Saint Jerome, was occupied only by two religious and the Duchess had obtained its transfer to the Capuchins.

A fairly faithful description of it has come to us, written at the end of the 16th century by a religious who had been to visit it in order to give an account to the Chronicler/Annalist of the Order[5].

“I have been – he wrote – to visit Colmenzone. The refectory walls are covered with a roughcast[6] and simply whitewashed with chalk. The windows are made of square openings of wood with nothing to close them, but a piece of board fixed on two pivots instead of hinges. The partition walls are made of reed or wickerwork covered with cob. The doors are narrow and low, even the one of the church which is so small that a stout person passes with difficulty. (It measures a bit over 60 cm in width). The choir is very small and can accommodate at most seven people standing. (It measures 3.08 m in with by 1.47 m in depth). In the wall, the description continues, there is a credence table, that served them to place the vestments. On the altar there is still a candlestick cut from a piece of wood and roughly worked; in the middle it is thinner in order to hold it more easily with a hand; the bigger top and base have somehow been rounded and polished with a rasp.

“The church is very small (it measures about 7.50 m in length by 5 m in width): the windows are narrow. Just like the friary, its is built on the slope of the mountain, into which a little platform was cut for their construction, which has made it necessary to build some arches in support of the refectory walls. There is no upper floor and all the cells are at the ground level. Outside the friary a little cistern collects the water off the roof that is led there in a stone gutter. There is also a roughly cut vat that served them to wash their clothes.

“In the cells one can still see – the same report continues – some bedsteads made of trestles supporting boards, but as the boards are placed sideways, the trestles are as long as the beds. What to say of these roughly hewn boards, one a half arms long? Our forefathers made use of the timber they found available and did not care much about preparing it well”.

It results from this report that at the end of the 16th century the place was completely abandoned; it is therefore in no way astonishing that the remains of the so poorly constructed little friary have by today completely disappeared. One saw still traces of it in the second half of the 18th century; one might perhaps find some traces of the arches that supported the wall by rummaging through the shrubs that have invaded the place[7].

When (as we are going to see in a moment) the Capuchins had left Colmenzone, the property past to the Cathedral Chapter of Camerino. The date is not known, but one can believe that thanks to the care of the canons the small church was renovated in 1727, as one reads on a stone in the wall above the door: “Anno restaurationis 1727.” Every year the religious of the friary of Camerino together with the novices came to spend a day in the midst of the ruins of the ancient friary and bring life to the solitude, where their predecessors had lived. On that day the abandoned poor church, of which the religious, however, still had the right of use, functioned as in olden days. They came above all to pray at the tomb of the first fathers, whose bones were buried in the centre of the nave.

Did the Capuchins count on the canons for the maintenance of the place or did the canons leave it to the religious to care? Difficult to say, but it is a fact that nobody cared and that in the last years of the 18th century the church was in danger of crumbling. In 1795, the farmer, who kept the key as custodian, thinking to find a treasure hidden in the ground, violated the sepulchre that kept the remains of the religious. This event caused the Superiors of the Province to order the guardian of the friary of Camerino to transfer the bones of the first Capuchins to Camerino, so as to save them from any further profanation and from the danger of remaining one day buried under the debris. This translation took place in the month of October. Sure of their right, the Religious neither asked the permission of the canons, the owners of the church, nor did they inform them of their plan. The latter took offence and the Vicar Capitular, the see of Camerino was vacant at the time, protested in Rome against the violation of the immunity of a church belonging to the table of the Chapter and he demanded the return of the bones to Colmenzone. The superiors in Rome consulted the cardinal Duke of York, the Protector of the Order, who had orders given to the Provincial of the Mache d’Ancona to address a letter of apology to the Chapter, while he on his part would work to solve this problem. The letter was written, presented to the Cardinal for approval and sent to the Vicar Capitular. Thus finished this dispute to the common satisfaction of both parties[8].

Some weeks later, the Vicar Capitular sent to Rome a copy of the decision of the Chapter that authorized the religious to keep the bones of their forefathers in their church, and the Cardinal himself gave them the text of the inscription to be placed on the tomb[9]. Here is the wording that does not give an inkling of the difficulties this translation had caused: D.O.M. Primaevas Minorum Capuccinorum exuvias ex Colmensonio Sacello, archiepiscale annuente Senatu, confratrum pietas, Regiae Celsitudinis D. Henrici Cardinalis Ducis Eboracensis nuncupati, Episcopi Tusculani, Ordinis Protectoris, favore, clientela, prasidio, huc consepeliendas transtulit. Anno reparatae salutis 1795.

Soon afterwards a new order of the superiors was needed not to have the peace of the bones disturbed. The novice master found the tomb along the chapel wall on the right of the entrance not conveniently placed and wanted to have it moved elsewhere. A prohibition from Rome prevented him from doing so[10]. In the month of May 1796, Fr. Angelico of Sassuolo, the Vicar general of the Order, who had to intervene in this matter, was elected archbishop of Camerino.

From then on the Capuchins of Camerino probably abandoned the chapel of St. Jerome of Colmenzone completely, where there was no longer any need to go to pray at the tomb of their dead, and the decay, already noticed in 1795, was bound to increase. The roof threatens to collapse, the walls are partly ruined, the vandalism of the shepherds having added to the action of time. The dug up tomb is still open in the middle of the nave, with the soil thrown to the sides. On the altar the consecrated stone, however, is still in its place, surrounded by debris of candlesticks and altar cards, the door, wrested from its hinges is lying along the wall, and some scattered bones lie in the middle of the rubble. Placed between the nave and the choir of the religious the altar stands against a low wall, with a narrow door on either side; on the wall of the apse one still sees an old painting representing Christ on the cross, between the Virgin and Saint John. Two other figures placed on either side have completely disappeared.

One feels pain in the heart in the midst of these ruins. How can we fail to regret the abandon of this little church so full of memories for us, memories that should have called forth more care and respect. But our brothers observed the law not to be attached to any place; they left to the owner the care of the place they abandoned when they were given another one. This has happened in Colmenzone.

The little friary was too small to offer space for the religious and the novices who began to arrive; its location in the middle of the woods and its poor construction made any stay there unhealthy, which, combined with the austerity of the life of its inhabitants, caused disease and led to the death of several of them; ten, reports an old chronicle, had succumbed in the short space of three years. The pious Duchess got alarmed and wanted to find for ‘her Capuchins’ a better home, which, built under her direction, would respond better to the demands of their life.

With their consent, no doubt, she selected a site in a mountain fold, about three miles east of Camerino. In the middle of the forest there was an old sand quarry, Renacavata, and close to it a small chapel dedicated to the Madonna. The land belonged to a canon of Camerino, Messer Precetto de Precetti. Catherine Cybo bought it, and under the direction of the religious a small friary was built, which was to be the definitive cradle of the new religious family[11].

Oh, the delicious solitude one enjoys in this little friary, how well one prays in the quiet chapel, what a pleasure to walk in meditation on the path leading up to Mount Calvary! In the spring the ground is all covered with flowers, primroses and light daffodils, red cyclamen, grapes hyacinths and violet polygalas, blue periwinkles, purple and speckled orchids, and above them, the big broom trees sway their golden bells. All the shades of green adorn the bushes and shrubs, from where the chirping of the birds ceases at your approach just as the noise of your steps makes the timid lizards run who warm themselves in the first rays of sun in May. And in the air, there is a joyful concert, blackbirds and warbles sing to the heart’s delight, alternating with the more melodious song of the nightingale. I heard it still at night, mixing its voice with the peals of the bell that called for matins. One has to live in a big town, with no other music but the claxons and sirens of the cars, the whistle of the locomotives, the bell of the trams, to be able to savour, as I do it, these harmonies of nature.

The friary is small and poor, the cells have a tiny window, hardly big enough to let the head pass; useless to try to lean outside: the shoulders hit against the wall, and the blow reminds you that you are in the cell to study and pray, and not to watch what is going on outside.

The church measures just about 10 metres in length and 4.25 metres in width. The choir, behind the altar, is a square of 4 metres. On the epistle side the nave has two chapels; one of them might well be the original small shrine of the Madonna of Renacavata; it has in fact remained a part of the new construction, as proved by the thick wall that separates this from the shrine. On the altar a canvas of a rather good make, which is normally covered, represents the Madonna holding the Child Jesus in her arm. The principal artwork that decorates this church is the majolica relief above the main altar. One ascribes it with great probability to Matteo Della Robbia, son of Andrea and grand nephew of the famous Luca Della Robbia. Matteo, in fact, worked in the Marche d’Ancona towards the first half of the 16th century. This relief represents the Virgin holding her Son on her knees. The mother looks at her divine Child, while this one in a graceful and natural movement turns the head, as if he wanted to see who was entering and coming to pray at the foot of his mother. Standing, on the right, is Saint Francis, on the left Saint Agnes. At both ends of the base we find the monogram of the name of Jesus, then three small scenes; in the centre the burial, on the right the stigmatisation, on the left the martyrdom of Saint Agnes. The symbols of the passion decorate the frame.

The tabernacle made of walnut, inlaid with bone, also deserves mention. Several tabernacles of the same kind are found in different friaries of the province, an indication that it is the work of some skilful and patient friar, a devout artist of the Blessed Sacrament.

During the week, the small church is forsaken, but on Sunday, when masses are celebrated, it is full of farmers and herdsmen of the surrounding mountains.

We have to add that this tiny friary is an extension of the original place, made in the 17th century. Clement X, who had been bishop of Camerino before becoming pope, allowed the friars to construct the cells of the novitiate above the church, which had been consecrated a few years earlier, on 31 August 1663, by a man of the village, Mgr. Thaddeus Altini of the Augustinian Hermits, bishop of Orte and Civita Castellana, Apostolic Visitor of the diocese of Camerino. When an earthquake in 1825 jeopardized the safety of the building, the vault had to be redone as is recorded in an inscription near the church entrance. Mention is made in it of the piety of the dukes of Camerino, the founders of the friary. The memory of the Duchess is further kept alive by a painting in the refectory. This quite interesting canvas – given that portraits of Catherine Cybo are rare – would be in great need of a professional restoration.

Earlier on I have mentioned Mount Calvary. That’s the name given to a hillock within the enclosure that towers above the friary. On the top stand three wooden crosses. Nearby, a grotto carved out of the sandy rock, has in recent years been decorated with a pretty terracotta relief, the work of a novice, representing the burial of the Lord. From the top of the hill, one sees in the west the town of Camerino, dominated by its cathedral, and in the centre of the town, a bit further down, the tall tower and the roofs of the church of St. Venance, the martyr of Camerino. Closing the horizon in the south are the Sybilline mountains, still covered in snow. Descending from Mount Calvary on another path one comes across several grottos, which nowadays only serve to keep some gardening tools. In the past, at least in the good season, they were inhabited by religious in search of a life of greater solitude.

*

* *

(…. from my travel notes. 30 April. – My visits to the first dwelling places of the Friars Minor of the eremitical life are finished. I do not find any new document in the town library. It’s useless to try to make some research in the archives of the archdiocese, where everything is piled up in a huge hall without any order. I have no time to go through the archives of the public notary to find the act of purchase of the land of Renacavata. I have to leave the place, regretfully putting an end to the happy days spent in this quiet spot. The weather, which these days favoured our excursions, has turned bad. I therefore follow the council of my guide and companion, the good and likeable Fr. Joseph; we take the train to Macerata, where the friary is five minutes from the railway station; we may get there without having to fear any rain and can prepare new excursions.)

Macerata, 1st May

We arrived yesterday. The friary of Macerata is new, because the friars were not able to get back the use of their old dwelling place, changed into an asylum for beggers (a poor house) after the suppression of the religious houses by the Piedmont government. The friary has nothing to offer in memories and we stopped there only between two trains in order to visit the second friary to be inhabited by the first Capuchins. It was close to the old Pollentia, then called Monte Melone, which in the meantime has taken the former name of Pollenza, half way between Tolentino and Macerata.

Near this big village even today one finds the fortified castle of la Rancia, placed in a fertile valley on the bank of an affluent of the Chienti, which filled the ditches still existing even if half covered, that encircle the manor house for defence. An early chronicler says that the Duchess of Camerino, whose dowry goods were in this region, liked to spend here some months of the year, but as she was not able to stay long without seeing ‘her Capuchins’, she arranged for them to receive a small church dedicated to St. Lucy, which was at the far end of Monte Melone. I would not venture to say how much is true in this assertion, for in the year 1528 it is more than likely that Catherine Cybo did not go to la Rancia. It is quite possible, however, that she herself suggested this place to Fr. Ludovico da Fossombrone in search of a new residence for his religious, which the hermitage of Colmenzone could not shelter, and that she acted herself as intermediary to get the place for him. St. Lucy was a benefice belonging to a family Piani of Macerata. The right of use was thus given to the Capuchins, who marked their arrival, to the great displeasure of the owners, with the destruction of a vineyard around the church, under the pretext that their Constitutions in no way allowed them to have vineyards or fields. This act was all the more regrettable for the masters of the place as the Capuchins remained there only for a short time, ten years at most, as on 25 January 1539 Sigismond Piani granted it to other religious.

Who were these religious? The old chronicle under my eyes simply calls them Reformed. We have all the reason to believe that they were reformed Conventuals, because in his report of the triennial visit, Fr. Horace Civalli, the provincial of the Conventuals, speaks of the place as a friary under his jurisdiction. He states that it is quite beautiful and adds that the church is small but meditative, and on the wall, he remarks, is a painting of St. Lucy with the year 14XI. However, the friary and the church were then no longer in their original state, they had been modernised, he adds[12].

The church of St. Lucy still exists, perhaps in the state in which Fr. Civalli found it. It is a parish taken care off by a priest who lives in a nearby village, because there are no other houses in the surroundings except the building attached to the church, which in the past was the friary and today serves as farmstead. If the latter building has been maintained by the owners, the state of the church leaves much to be desired. It is to be renovated, we were told by the peasant woman who opened us the door. The lady of the nearby manor has left in her will a legacy for the purpose. In fact, not far from the church a nice villa can be seen, hidden in the midst of trees, which probably stays in the place of the castle of the Piani family, mentioned by the old Conventual. One arrives there from the railway station in less than half an hour, on an easy serpentine lane in the shade of trees. The road did not exist at the time Fr. Ludovico da Fossombrone settled his brothers there. However, among all the early friaries, the one of Monte Melone was certainly the easiest to reach and the least secluded.

In a straight line the castle of la Rancia is not more than a kilometre away. As we had time to spare before taking the train to return to Macerata, I dragged my companion there. Its crenulated walls and the high tower over the postern fascinated me. I wanted to have a close look at them, and we had in no way to regret our march. This manor still looks great, even though the walls were crumbling, and the beautiful inner courtyard was reduced to a farmyard. We would happily have remained longer, but the darkening sky warned us not to delay. Lucky as we were, the moment we had reached the station, it began to rain. While I am writing these lines the rain has been going on for full 24 hours. Tomorrow, shall we be able to make our last excursion?

Rome, 4 May

Last night I returned from my trip. While the impressions are still fresh in my mind, I would like to write them down and tell the latest memories.

The rain which had not stopped for two nights and a day since our return from Monte Melone, finally began to relent the day before yesterday in the morning. The sky, though still covered in clouds, was less dark, but early in the morning when we should have gone on our way, it looked in no way promising for a mountain trip. It seemed prudent to drop the plan, and I could not prolong my stay in the friary of Macerata, notwithstanding the friendly hospitality of the religious. At half past ten I parted from my companion at the railway station of Macerata, he left for Ancona and myself in direction Rome. As it was no longer raining, I wanted to give myself a last chance. On my way I had to pass the station of Albacina, which had been the point of our missed excursion. I had two hours ahead of me to get there. Who knows, I said to myself, the weather may improve and give me an afternoon without rain. I had the possibility of a break of four hours between two trains. According to what we had been told this would be more than sufficient to reach the little church of Acquarella and return to the station. I also put my bet on the moon… As one knows the hour of its rise often marks a change of weather. Now the moon rose towards midday on that day. I took therefore a ticket for Albacina.

In fact, the sky, without getting completely open, cleared up all the time, the clouds streamed along on the summits of mount San Vicino. It seemed to me they wanted to dissolve themselves. While looking at the sky through the door, I thought of the memories that for us Friars Minor Capuchins are connected with this village of Albacina. There our forefathers, when they were about 20, held their first chapter and drafted the early constitutions of our family.

In an account of this assembly left us by an early chronicler there is something that reminds us of the encounter of St. Francis with Lady Poverty, as described in the Sacrum Commercium.

This was the first time they came together. Not all of them knew each other, as until then they had to live in solitary places, hiding in caverns or abandoned hovels. They came from different directions, bringing along the poor provisions they had been begging along the road, and Fr. Ludovico had on purpose chosen this solitary place to that they could have their first meeting in peace.

When all had arrived and the first sentiments of joy of being together had been expressed, they took their first meal together. Seated on their cloaks spread out on the floor, all they had for their sustenance, were pieces of bread and fruit received as alms along the road, to quench their thirst the clear water of the stream that flows over the plateau where they were gathered, and for the weaker ones a jug of wine. In the small house attached to the church, around which they were seated in groups, they had found only one glass with a broken stem. So, after drinking they put the glass upside down on the ground.

As this small house just mentioned was not big enough to shelter them all, Fr. Ludovico had constructed some huts out of branches and built a kind of shed which served them as refectory and chapter hall.

It is said that this first chapter was held on a Friday at the beginning of April 1529. The evening before in a first meeting they had decided to entrust to a dozen among them the task of appointing the superiors. After a night spent in great part in prayer in the small church of Holy Mary of Acquarella, Fr. Ludovico celebrated the mass of the Holy Spirit, in which all participated and took holy communion. Then he gave a fiery talk to his dear companions, admonishing them to thank God, whose protection had never been amiss in the midst of troubles without number. They could now organise their family in a canonical way. He had governed it for six months, in virtue of the Bull addressed to him, but the authority had to be given into the hands of the one elected by the chapter. As a sign of renunciation, in front of the whole assembly, he placed on the part of the rock that served as table the Pontifical Letters of 3 July 1528 that established their congregation. The 12 chosen electors then proceeded with the vote for the election of the four definitors. Having finished this first part, they invoked again the assistance of the Holy Spirit and without another ballot, they proclaimed unanimously Fr. Matteo da Bascio Vicar general of their family.

Then they all assembled in the little sanctuary to thank God and to promise obedience to the elected Superior. When midday came, they assembled again to take their meal together. While they were eating, like the night before, seated on the bare ground, the leftovers of their poor provisions, it is said that a good old woman, who had seen the coming and going of all these religious, knowing that they were all together around the chapel of Acquarella and touched by their poverty, went to offer them a chicken, her only possession. They thanked her profusely, but did not want to accept her present, considering it a dish too fine for the poor recipients.

A blow of the whistle tore me out of my reveries. We are in the station of Albacina. The sky is clear and the time seems to me sufficient to try an excursion to the scene of the first chapter. I get down from the carriage and after having made sure of the departure time of the next train, I inquire about the shortest way to Acquarella. The good employee, to whom I speak, looks at me with astonishment: “But it is impossible he tells me. You need half an hour to go to Albacina, then from there a good one and a half hours to climb to Acquarella. You will never make it in time to catch the train. – As I am now here, I want to try, which is the direction? – Look, he continued, I am going to show you where Acquarella is,” and stretching his arm he pointed to a square tower rising from a little knoll in a gorge high up there in the mountain. This was a moment of disillusionment: the information I had collected made me hope to achieve my goal, and now I saw it so far away. “At least, I told him, I am going to Albacina and there I’ll see.” He shows me the way to take and I get moving at a fast pace.

Within 20 minutes I was at the entrance of the village and I asked for the house of the Parish Priest. I knock on the door: he comes himself to open it for me and welcomes me with great affability. There was no time for a lot of small talk, I tell him the reason of my arrival. There are new objections, followed by a very friendly offer of hospitality and an invitation to await the following day, as his parish was going every 3 May there on pilgrimage and I might go with them. I thanked the Parish Priest for his good reception and added: “Signor Curato, either I go there this afternoon or I’ll not go there at all, because tomorrow night I have to be back in Rome. – As you want it this way, I go to fetch the key of the chapel and somebody to guide you.” He left and soon afterwards returned; behind him a peasant followed carrying a huge key, then after some minutes a rather shabby looking old woman entered. “Here is your guide”, he tells me, and he explained to the poor woman that she had to take me to Acquarella. “Be it for the love of God, she replied, but let me go to inform my daughter.” As I did not seem to be fully convinced that my road companion was a fast walker: “Don’t worry, she still has good legs. – How much time does it take you to climb up there? – I could not tell you, I have never been there except in procession, and we make it in two hours, and it is quite a job. To begin with, the path is quite good, but when you arrive at the mountain, you will only have a steep path and you will see the zigzag you have to cover before arriving. I wish you the best of luck and if you do not arrive in time for your train, remember that you will find here a bed and simple but cordial hospitality.”

The good old Bastianna, that is her name, was back with a bread basket on her arm covered with a clean white linen and from under it the neck of a bottle protruded. It was empty, because she did not carry provisions to have a snack up there, she only wanted to take advantage of the walk to bring back a small reserve of water of the Madonna of Acquarella, to which popular belief attributes miraculous powers.

All these preparations had taken up considerable time. I did not dare look at the clock, for I might have forsaken my enterprise which appeared ever more crazy. Finally we set out. As we walked past the last houses of the village, people called out to my guide: “Well, where are you going now, Bastianna? – To Acquarella, if it pleases God.” More than ever I found her pious formula appropriate to the occasion. Well, yes, if it pleases God, I wonder shall we ever arrive? The good path, as the Parish Priest had said, was uphill but easy; it finished too quickly and after that we had nothing but a narrow path, pebbly and steep. I was walking in front; behind me Bastianna marched at a slow and regular pace; turning round I saw that she said her rosary. This gave me confidence.

We were climbing all the time, from far I looked at the tower that stood over the small chapel, that rose up before us on the other side of two gullies; the second one, cut vertically into the rock, offered no appearance of any passage. We have to pass above it, I told myself frightened, shall I be able to climb till there? and especially, shall I be able to return tonight;” And the path barely marked on the side of the mountain still went up, always up. Bastianna who had caught up with me, continued to sow her Aves along the way; I, on my part, had enough to do to heave myself up with the force of my legs on this steep slope, and when my habit got caught on the bushes, I understood why our forefathers only wore a short tunic, down to the knees.

While still making these reflections we had reached the top of the first gully which ran along the path almost in a straight line. Arriving at the bottom end I see Bastianna bend and pick up a pebble which she throws into the precipice. “A requiem aeternam would be worth much more,” she says to me, and she begins to tell me how one day, a long time ago, a man passing there on his donkey, fell to the bottom of the ravine and that since then one threw always a stone when passing the place. I had read about this detail in a note on the chapel of Acquarella; it was on 31 March 1639 when Maurice of Goro found his death in this precipice, called since then the passage of Maurice: il passo di Maurizio. A former Parish Priest of Albacina, the author of the note, had found the death notice in the parish registries and the legend, which one wanted to put into question, was thus confirmed[13].

While she told me her story, we had emerged from the gorge and saw the chapel below us. “When one gets to this place, she told me, one begins the Litany of Our Lady.” I would have gladly recited it with her but did not have the breath to do it aloud. We continue our walk at a faster pace, because the climb was finished and after having past the top of the second ravine, called the Rio secco, we emerged onto a kind of plateau; at the entrance, on a vertical rock, stands a square tower, with the chapel huddled at its base.

This little sanctuary has its rather old history. Some authors want to identify Acquarella with Acquabella in the Apennine, where St. Romuald, the founder of the Camaldolese, stayed for some time. It would be useless to resume the argument, one fact is certain, that the Saint has lived in these parts. Fabriano, where he died, is some kilometres from this place and one can see the houses from this altitude. One author mentions the presence of hermits at Acquarella in 1349. Though less ancient, the chapel still dates back to the year 1441; it was built by a hermit called Fra Frandeno, as one can read in the Chained Registry of the Archives of the Lateran Basilica, il registro della catena, in which are listed all the churches built on land belonging to the Chapter. In fact, the coat of arms of the Basilica is still visible above the door of the chapel[14]. Other hermits probably succeeded the founder, but I could not say how Ludovico da Fossombrone got its concession for his brothers. All that our chroniclers report is that he had lived in the territory of Fabriano, of which Albacina is part, before receiving the Bull of 1528. It is equally unknown how long the Capuchins lived in the hermitage of Acquarella. From 1537 on they took over a little church near Fabriano, but some continued still to live on the mountain, for someone quotes an act of a notary of 25 February 1571, where mention is made of the Capuchins of Acquarella. One states that they have left the hermitage for good in 1585, but there is nothing to prove it absolutely. From then onwards it was at different times inhabited by hermits; one is found there in 1760. In 1831 a certain Fra Benedetto Fratebianchi, lived there. He combined the veterinary profession with that of solitary hermit, and was also considered a bit of a sorcerer. As the life of these brave men was not always as edifying as their state demanded, the Bishop of Fabriano, when renewing a prohibition made by one of his predecessors, no longer allowed the benefice holder of the chapel to make a hermit its custodian. Since then, it is no longer open except on 3 May, the day when the parish of Albacina goes there in procession to celebrate the feast of the finding of the Holy Cross[15].

From the point we had reached, we see the whole building complex together, which must not have changed over the centuries. It is composed of a square tower covered with a roof of stone slabs and having some windows high up. It stand proudly on the rock, which a few steps from there descends almost vertically on the side of the valley. East of this tower is the small chapel, part of its wall formed by hewn rock. Leaning against the wall of the chapel on its south side is a narrow cottage with one room and a sacristy. While I stop to take a photograph, Bastianna has gone to the chapel, and passing through the sacristy, she goes to open me the door, solidly locked with a huge bolt. Near this door is a low window, closed with a simple wooden shutter. No other opening gives light to the Chapel, which remains rather dark. After having recited some Ave Maria with my good old woman, my eyes got used to the half-light. I inspect the building, which has nothing characteristic, the walls are whitewashed with chalk, and the roof, with exposed beams devoid of any elaboration, rests on the walls. On the epistle side the rock barely covered forms the base of the wall. The altar of masonry work has no age, it is bare, and tomorrow, coming in procession, the people of Albacina will bring with them all that is necessary for the celebration of the holy mass. The chapel measures 7 metres in length and 4 in width. The love of poverty of our forefathers could opt for it without any hesitation. It must have been then the way it is today.

The tower, against which the chapel is built, is divided, one says, in two storeys by a vault. It was difficult for me to make sure of this, because its only door is about two metres above the ground; one would need a ladder to reach there, as one would need one to get to the second storey; there is actually no staircase.

While I made this investigation, Bastianna had taken her basket and left for the fountain to fill her bottles. “I am going to get water from the spring of the Madonna,” she had said. I try to look for another position to train my objective onto the chapel. The fog began to surround us, the top of the tower was already covered by it, there was nothing more to do than to think of our descent. Bastianna returned with her full bottles and told me how good and fresh the water was at the spring of the Virgin. How I would have loved to eat the crust of bread I had in my pocket! It was now too late for it; we return to the chapel, after a short prayer we close the door and make us on the way back. We had taken just over five quarters coming up, the descent should take less time and just as well, because my train would leave in an hour and a half.

We begin our way in the midst of a thick fog. Bastianna is in a talking mood and narrates how one day the painting of the chapel was stolen, then found again in Ancona rolled up in a sack. Her account, known to me from a note I had read on the chapel, did not interest me much in itself, but as I listened to her talking I reflected about the importance of popular traditions which to despise is a great mistake.

When the path had become less steep and there was no risk anymore of getting lost, I took the lead and descended in haste towards the village; my good old woman would find her way on her own. On arrival at the presbytery to thank the friendly Parish Priest, Don Giambattista Rinaldi, and to put him at ease as regards my fate, I was sorry not to find him at home; he had been called to a sickbed, but before leaving he had given instructions to his housekeeper. A cloth was put on the table, then she brought me a bottle of wine and a pancake still hot. I had appreciated this light meal when she returned with two eggs on the plate, which I had to swallow in haste. I looked at my watch with anxiety, a bare half hour was left. As I left the house I found Bastianna at the door: I turn to her to tell her with a great heart: “Be it for the love of God,” and off I run. To make it short, after having taken a wrong turn, I arrived still in time for the train.

In the evening, I stopped in Foligno, where I went to my good friend Mgr. Faloci to ask for hospitality. He was not at home and old Checca (Francesca) received me grumbling. Only when her master came in was she set at ease in my regard. The following morning when I woke up in a good bed it was already well into the day and my thoughts then turned to old Bastianna, who, without any doubt, had already left with the parish to go on pilgrimage to her dear Madonna of Acquarella. She will never read these lines, the good old woman, so I can say without hurting her modesty, how much I had been edified by her great spirit of faith and her simple piety.

P. Edouard d’Alençon
General Archivist of the Friars Minor Capuchin

APPENDIX

Bad luck is good for something, says the proverb. The delay of our printer in sending me the sheets of this off-print allows me to return to what I wrote (page 3) by following one of our chroniclers, on the topic of a bull of Nicolas V [IV by mistake], which mentions among the hermitages of the Clareni the Grotto of St. Magdalene in Colmenzone.

I had in vain been looking for this bull and in no way thought about it, when in the evening of the day after Christmas our excellent Fr. Postulator, going through a box full of old papers, found there different pieces that had nothing to do with the archives of the postulation. One of these pieces was precisely a copy of the bull under question, together with the petition of the Duchess of Camerino to grant the Grotto of St. Magdalene to the brothers Ludovico and Raffaele da Fossombrone and their companions.

This document, of interest for the rather little known history of the Clareni, is too long to be placed here and it merits a separate study, but from it results that the chronicler has made a mistake in mixing up, as he does, the hermitage of St. John of Colmenzone, sancti Johannis de Colmenzone, which he calls of St. John the Baptist, with that of St. Magdalene, sanctae M. Magdalenae alias La Grotta sanctae Mariae de … the space for the name is left blank.

Is the hermitage of St. John the one of St. Jerome? Perhaps; as regards the Grotto it results from the petition of the Duchess that it was situated prope castrum Montisalti et villam Monosterii. Now Montalto and Monastero are two villages of the commune of Cassapalombo, south east of Camerino. As the crow flies, the distance of this commune from the town is at least ten kilometres if I refer to the map I have under my eyes; Colmenzone is much nearer.

Here is the text of this petition, never published before, written at the bottom of the transcription of the bull.

Pater Sancte, In Ducatu Camerin. et diocesi, prope castrum Montisalti et villam Monosterii, est quaedam grotta vulgo nuncupata la grotta de sancta Maria Magdalena, quam praecessores vestri concesserunt fratribus Clarenis sancti Francisci nuncupatis tunc heremitis, donec vitam heremiticam ducerent et regulam sancti Francisci servarent, et eos subjecit (sic) jurisdictioni Episcopi Camerin. pro tempore existentis, prout in praeinserta continetur. Qui fratres a longo tempore citra non ducunt vitam heremiticam, sed in nullo servant regulam beati Francisci, immo faciunt vitam dissolutam in malum exemplum populorum vicinorum. Habentibus? de praedictis notitiam, quia modicum fructum afferunt et a certo tempore citra ceperunt hedificare certum monasterium prope dictam grottam, animo, ut creditur, illam relinquendi: igitur Ducissa Camerini, tenorem praeinsertae, cupit dictos fratres, qui sunt numero quatuor vel sex ad plus, amovere de dicto loco, et in illo collocare certos religiosos ejusdem ordinis sancti Francisci, videlicet fratrem Ludovicum et fratrem Raphaelem germanos de Foro Sempronio, cum quibusdam sociis suis, qui non solum servant regulam beati Francisci, sed veram vitam heremiticam faciunt in maxima paupertate Altissimo famulantes: ideo fiat Breve directum Episcopo Camerin. vel eius vicario, ad supplicationem Ducissae praedictae, ut de praemissis se informet, etiam personaliter accedendo ad locum, si opus fuerit, et si invenerit dictos fratres non servare vitam heremiticam, prout tenentur ex forma bullae praeinsertae, vel alias male vivere contra formam regulae suae, illos auctoritate apostolica expellat de dictis locis, et praedictos Ludovicum, Raphaelem et socios suos fratres verosque heremitas, in dictis locis collocet, concedendo eis licentiam habitandi in eis et quod a nullo possint molestari, donec vitam heremiticam duxerint et regulam beati Francisci servaverint. Et ostendatur praeinserta domino abbreviatori ut sciat dictare supplicationem cum clausulis oportunis et juxta voluntatem praefatae Ducissae.

From the text of the petition it seems to result that it was written before the bull of 3 July 1528, which approved the new Franciscan family of the Friars Minor of the eremitical life. Remains to be known whether it was ever presented: in any case it remained without outcome. None of our oldest chroniclers ever mentions a stay of the first Capuchins at the Grotto of St. Magdalene. The only one who speaks about it bases himself exclusively on this petition.

  1. “Vitamque admodum austeram et rigidam ac fere non humanam ducentes.” Annotation to the Breve Cum sicut accepimus, dated 9 April 1534. (Vatican Archives Arm. XL, Vol. 47). ↑
  2. Compendium Chronicarum O.F.M. auct. Marianus a Florentia, Quaracchi, 1911, 92. Wadding, Annales, 1405, Nr. 20 refers to this Compendium. ↑
  3. Paulus a Foligno, Annales, ms. in the general Archives of the Order. I looked in vain for this bull of Nicolas V ↑
  4. Wadding, Annales, 1473, Nr. 12. ↑
  5. It was published in Analecta Ord. Min. Capuccinorum, 1908, Vol. XXIV, 22. ↑
  6. “of cow dung”, says the report. ↑
  7. Camille Lilii wrote towards 1650: “Scorgonsi quivi tuttavia le vestigie della fabrica che vi fecero con creta e canne, d’alcoune stanze anguste per un convento, incominciato in forma vile e rozza”. Historia di Camerino, 319. This Camille Lilii accompanies the nieces of Cardinal Mazarin to France, who obtained for her the title of Historiographer of the King.- A century later, Octave Turchi, De Ecclesiae Camerinensis Pontificibus, Rome 1762, said: Antiquum Colmenzoni coenobium est omnino disjectum, solaque illius vestigia supersunt” 303. ↑
  8. General Archives of the Order, Acts of the General Definitory, 8 January 1796. ↑
  9. Ibid., 18 March. ↑
  10. Ibid., 22 April. ↑
  11. I had hoped to find the act of purchase in the notary archives of Camerino, but the limited time at my disposal did not allow me to make the research in the minutes of the notaries of that period. Not knowing the name of the charter, nor the precise date, one would have to go through all the volumes, one after the other, and perhaps still find nothing, because the records have gaps. ↑
  12. Visita triennale di F. Orazio Civalli Maceratese, in Vol XXV of Antichità Picene by Colucci, Fermo 1795. Fr. Civalli was provincial from 1594 to 1597. ↑
  13. Raffaele Ambrosini, Parish Priest of Albacina, Il Romitaggio di Albacina, Fabriano 1880. ↑
  14. “Ecclesia S. Virginis Mariae, dictae alias La Romita, in balia Aventiae, in loco ubi dicitur Acquarella, districtus Fabriani, sub annuo censu unius librae cerae, in Resurrectione Domini, aedificata per Fratrem Frandenum heremitam, anno Domini MCCCC41 die 17 Novembris, V Indictione, et fuit rogatus Paulinus Bartholomaei publicus notarius.” Quoted by Ambrosini. ↑
  15. The painting placed above the altar represents the deposition from the cross. The Virgin holding her Son on the knees is placed between St. Peter and St. Francis, and at their feet the child St. John the Baptist. This painting has been falsely attributed to Guido Reni. ↑