Reading the Fioretti, one learns that, in spite of the severe rule he followed, Francis enjoyed his life; there must have been a singular power of fascination in the man, who could always, wherever he went, change sorrow into joy. He rejoiced in the beauty of nature, and went singing along the dusty way, between the olive-trees and the grape-laden vines, which then, as now, probably bordered the road on either hand; he rejoiced in every trial laid on him, as a fresh offering he could make to his God.
Francis sang till the birds came fluttering round him to share his gladness, mingling their songs with his. At Bevagna, a place south of Spello, he preached his famous sermon to these winged disciples, and bade the swallows cease their disturbing twitter.
He loved all dumb creatures, and strove to care for them, calling them his brothers and sisters; at Gubbio he tamed a wolf, till then the terror of the place. Once, meeting a peasant who had an armful of wild turtle-doves, he took them from the man, lest they should be killed or ill-treated, and, bringing them home to La Portioncula, he caused little nests to be made for the gentle birds, bade them live peacefully, and increase and multiply according to the will of God.
As we drove along the lovely valley, filled now with golden light varied by purple shadow, its glorious background of hills in every delicate shade of blue, with spaces between, an opal gauze in the sunshine, and villages nestling beside the tree-shaded Tiber, we saw, hard by, the grey-peaked bridge, so ancient looking, that Francis may one time or another have gone singing across it; and we felt that such a mind could not have lived amid so much beauty without becoming interpenetrated by it.
He is so entirely incorporated with Assisi and its surroundings, that one cannot describe the old town without now and again referring to the timeworn tale, so beautifully told by Monsieur Paul Sabatier.
Our two hours' drive between vines and olive-trees backed by grand purple hills had been lovely. The grapes were almost ripe, pale gold in colour, thickly hanging from tender green garlands, which stretched from one tree to another and linked them together. In some fields long-horned oxen were ploughing the stiff lumpy land between the vines; here and there golden stalks of maize lay on the rich brown soil. The sun-touched summits of Subasio and his brethren looked like radiant clouds; the pure invigorating air was delightful.
CONVENT AND CHURCH OF SAN FRANCESCO.
As one nears Assisi, the two salient points in the view are, on the left, high up the mountain side, the great convent of San Francesco, with its double churches; on the right, at the foot of the ascent to the town, is seen the dome of Santa Maria degli Angeli.