Pictures in Umbria

by Katharine S. Macquoid

The night before the two friends started, Francis dreamed that he saw his father's warehouse, usually stored with bales of silk, and gold and silver stuffs, filled with lances and military accoutrements both for men and horses. He awoke in great delight. He considered this dream a good omen for the success of his expedition, and rode joyfully next day to Spoleto. A version of this dream is given on fresco No. 2, by Giotto, in the Upper Church. At Spoleto his fever returned, and he heard a voice telling him he had completely mistaken the meaning of his dream, and that he must at once return to his father's house. Francis obeyed, but on his return his father and his fellow-citizens were disgusted by his apparent cowardice in turning back.

Francis had always been charitable to the poor, flinging liberal largesses to them as he rode about the country, sumptuously dressed and with his horse richly caparisoned; he now awoke to the conviction that the poor and suffering were his fellow-creatures, and merited a more personal and tender treatment than he had bestowed on them. Hitherto he had so dearly loved his gay companions, that he grudged every moment spent away from them; he even hurried over meals with his father and mother, so that he might the more speedily rejoin his frivolous friends. Now, after his return from Spoleto, he often went to a grotto, in a wood near Assisi, and prayed there; he saw less and less of his companions, he even sold some of his rich clothing that he might have more to give to the poor. In his father's absence he would clear the table of all food left on it, and give it among his poor friends. He had always been extremely dainty and fastidious in his habits and tastes, and he especially shrank from contact with any of the numerous lepers who, since the return of the Crusaders, had become a plague along the high-roads of Europe. One day he met a leper, and, after giving him an alms, turned abruptly away; on reflection, this seemed to him cruel and uncharitable. Soon afterwards he paid a visit to the lazar-house, spoke kindly to the inmates, and gave each leper a special alms, kissing their hands as he did so. More than once, when he met a poor man and had not a coin with him, he would bestow an article of his own clothing on the beggar.

His gay friends became greatly troubled at his changed behaviour. They dearly loved his sweet, fearless nature, and his winning charm of manner. They could not spare him from among them, for they looked on him as their leader.

They reproached him with his absence, and implored him to return to them. Francis announced that he was going to give them a banquet, and did so; there was every possible luxury, the table was magnificently decked, and he was chosen lord of the feast. But though he was cheerful, he was quieter, less full of wild revelry than he had formerly been, and when they all left the feast, instead of leading his companions into the streets of Assisi, as he had formerly done, he lingered behind, till they had to retrace their steps so as to join him.

They asked what ailed him;—was he thinking of marriage?

He remained silent awhile, then he said:

"You have guessed rightly: I intend to espouse that most beautiful of brides, the Lady Poverty. No longer will I waste my time and dissipate my substance on follies."

They stared in unbelief, then they treated it as a jest, but when they found he was in earnest, they jeered at their idolised leader.

When Pietro Bernardone learned that Francis had broken with his former associates, he became furious. Already greatly angered by the report of his son's visits to the lazar-house, and by other instances of the young fellow's charity, he could not pardon this public act of folly.

So long as his son shared the pursuits of the dissolute nobles who had so greatly admired him, so long as he was to be found in their company, the arrogant, purse-proud merchant, keenly desirous to better, as he considered, his son's position in the world, had been lavish of his money to the spendthrift; though even in those wild days instances are recorded of the younger Bernardone's goodness to the poor and suffering.