THE Gargano is a place apart. The promontory rises to the east of the plain between San Severo and Foggia, cutting like a spur into the Adriatic. The high point, the Monte Spigno, rises to 1,008 metres, and the land falls steeply to the coast. A local bishop experienced a vision of Saint Michael on the hill that now bears his name, 796 metres above sea level, and from the eighth century this became a major religious centre. The Norman conquerors of southern Italy first came as pilgrims, and, Assisi apart, there are few places where one feels closer to the pulse of medieval faith.
Lorenzo, the bishop who saw the archangel, held the see of Siponto. And unless you take the route that climbs from San Severo through the massif, the tourist-pilgrim would do well to pause at the two marvellous churches which survived when that town was destroyed by an earthquake of 1223. San Leonardo and Santa Maria Maggiore, the former cathedral, are Romanesque. Both have remarkable portals and are the more beautiful for their rural context. Siponto’s successor was Manfredonia, founded in 1256 by the Emperor Frederick II’s natural son, King Manfred. The grid street plan he imposed survives. Four miles beyond the town is the turn for Monte Sant’Angelo, which soon comes into sight high above. The road climbs steeply, with breathtaking views over the Gulf of Manfredonia towards Trani and the Castel del Monte.
The modern town cascades down the ridges that descend from the hill. The pilgrim would originally have walked up through the town, but now drives, or is driven, to a point nearer the shrine. The unremarkable entrance to this leads to a stairway of 1888, which must be very close in character to its thirteenth-century Angevin predecessor. The bronze doors to the basilica were ordered in Constantinople by Pantaleone of Amalfi in 1076. Their damascened decoration of silver and copper with coloured inlays is in twenty-four compartments: these include scenes from the Old Testament and a representation of the archangel’s apparition. The Gothic basilica, incorporating the grotto where the vision took place, was built by the ruthlessly ambitious Charles of Anjou in 1273. In the grotto itself is a remarkable Romanesque episcopal throne, while further medieval treasures, including the Emperor Frederick II’s gift of a filigree cross, are in the museum.
Pilgrims still flock to the sanctuary. But nearby the so-called Tomb of the Rotari is generally deserted. Originally perhaps a baptistery, this is crowned by a cupola reconstructed in 1109 for the alarmingly named Rodelgrimo and his brother-in-law, Pagano of Parma. The austerity of the structure is relieved by the energy of the sculptured reliefs. The building adjoins the elegant twelfth-century façade of the church of Santa Maria Maggiore.
Monte Sant’Angelo is particularly atmospheric in the late afternoon. The many stalls and restaurants make it easy to forget how remote the place must once have seemed to those who made the pilgrimage. The best way to sense this now is to leave at dusk and head inland, descending through what still seems an isolated valley. Pause and listen for the sheep bells.
Santa Maria Maggiore di Siponto: façade.
