I Tried To Picture To Myself The Norman Princes, The
Emperors, Popes, And Other Ten Thousand Pilgrims Of Celebrity Crawling
Up These Rocky Slopes - Barefoot - On Such A Day As This.
It must have
tried the patience even of Saint Francis of Assisi, who pilgrimaged with
the rest of them and, according to Pontanus, performed a little miracle
here en passant, as was his wont.
After about three hours' driving we reached the town of Sant' Angelo. It
was bitterly cold at this elevation of 800 metres. Acting on the advice
of the coachman, I at once descended into the sanctuary; it would be
warm down there, he thought. The great festival of 8 May was over, but
flocks of worshippers were still arriving, and picturesquely pagan they
looked in grimy, tattered garments - their staves tipped with
pine-branches and a scrip.
In the massive bronze doors of the chapel, that were made at
Constantinople in 1076 for a rich citizen of Amalfi, metal rings are
inserted; these, like a true pilgrim, you must clash furiously, to call
the attention of the Powers within to your visit; and on issuing, you
must once more knock as hard as you can, in order that the consummation
of your act of worship may be duly reported: judging by the noise made,
the deity must be very hard of hearing. Strangely deaf they are,
sometimes.
The twenty-four panels of these doors are naively encrusted with
representations, in enamel, of angel-apparitions of many kinds; some of
them are inscribed, and the following is worthy of note:
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