The Story of Assisi

by Lina Duff Gordon

"Ah Constantine! of how much ill was cause,

Not thy conversion, but those rich domains

That the first wealthy Pope received of thee,"[5]

groans Dante, in writing of the condition of the Church, and his cry reaches back to the time of which we write. Jacques de Vitry, who was often at the court of Innocent, also speaks with bitterness of the depravity of the priests. They were, he tells us, "deceiving as foxes, proud as bulls, avaricious and insatiable as the minotaur."

Innocent III, though scheming and ambitious, was a man of lofty character, and no one watched with so much anguish the rising storms which threatened to shake the mighty fabric of the Papacy. In a moment of discouragement he is said to have exclaimed that fire and sword were needed to heal the wounds made by the simoniacal priests, and for a long time he in vain sought a remedy for those ills. But salvation was at hand, and it came from the Umbrian mountains, as the fresh breeze comes which suddenly breaks upon the budding trees in springtime.

Within the narrow circuit of the Assisan walls arose a figure of magical power who drew men to him by the charm of his mysticism and the spell of his ardent nature. It is the sweet-souled saint of mediæval Italy—St. Francis of Assisi—who now illuminates this quiet corner of the world.

Francis Bernardone was born in the year 1182, when, as we have seen, the Church was harrowed by a hundred ills. He passed a gay youth, free from every care, and tested all the pleasures that riches could procure. Though the son of a merchant he consorted with the noblest of the Assisan youths, who, partly on account of his father's wealth, partly because of his gaiety and love of splendour, were glad to accept him as an equal. All looked to the high-spirited, gifted Francis as the leader at every feast, the organiser of every entertainment, and when Perugia blew her war-trumpet he rode out to battle side by side with the Assisan cavaliers. Such, in a few words, was his position in Assisi when in his twenty-second year, after a severe illness which brought him to the brink of the grave, he resolved to follow to the letter the precept of the Gospel and lead the life of the first apostles. So complete was his conversion that he, the rich merchant's son, was to be seen walking through the streets with bricks on his back for the repair of the ruined churches of Assisi, while his former companions drew back and laughed as he passed them. But their derision was of short duration, for the charm they had felt in former days had by no means passed away. Holiness could never make him sad, and in the human tenderness and joyousness of his nature lay the secret of that power which was strong enough, the Assisans soon discovered, to lead them where he would—though it was now by a new road he travelled.

The great movement, which began at Assisi and spread throughout Europe in a very few years, can only be likened to that witnessed by the lake of Galilee. Rich citizens gave all to the poor; the peasants left the vintage and sold their oxen, to join the ever-swelling crowd of bare-footed disciples who wandered through cities and into distant lands bringing comfort and words of peace to all they met. Like a ray of brilliant sunshine St. Francis dispersed the gloom of the middle ages, teaching men that the qualities of mercy and love were to be looked for from God instead of the inflexible justice that had overshadowed a religion intended to be all light. He walked the earth with joyous steps, inviting all to come with him and see how beautiful was the world; he looked upwards, praising God in bursts of eloquent song for the rain that fed the flowers, the birds that sang to him in the woods, and the blueness of his Umbrian sky. How different from the stern, orthodox saints who passed through the loveliest valleys with downcast eyes for fear of some hidden temptation or of some interruption to their prayers! With such a founder it is hardly surprising that the order of St. Francis spread and multiplied, becoming a great world force, as great and perhaps greater than that of St. Dominic. We get an interesting picture of the change he wrought throughout Italy and of the enthusiasm he kindled among his followers in a letter of Jacques de Vitry; from this we quote at length, for, being written by a contemporary of the saint, its value is very great.

"While I was at the pontifical court I saw many things which grieved me to the heart. Everyone is so preoccupied with secular and temporal things, with matters concerning kings and kingdoms, litigations and lawsuits, that it is almost impossible to talk on religious matters.