Something of this same caution must be used by those who would see the St. Francis whom the people long ago loved and worshiped. He is the embodiment of mediæval goodness. Let us beware of disenchanting literalism, lest suddenly the radiant youth disappear and we see only the relic of an age that has passed away.
Let us not look back at St. Francis. Let us stand at the beginning of the thirteenth century and look forward. Let us share the dream of the youth who went through the forest singing the praise of God.
The transformation of worldly ambition into spiritual was never more vividly told than in the legend of St. Francis, by the Three Companions. We see Francis the gay son of Peter Bernardone, merchant of Assisi, transformed into a knight of Lady Poverty.
“Then a few years later a certain noble of the city of Assisi provided himself with warlike gear to go into Apulia to increase his profit of money and renown. Upon hearing this, Francis did aspire to go with him and to be made a knight by a certain count, Gentile by name; wherefore he made ready stuffs as costly as he could, poorer in riches than his fellow citizen, but more profuse in largesse. One night when he had given all his thoughts to bringing this to pass, and was fevered with the desire for making the journey, he was visited by the Lord, who draweth him as one eager for glory to the pinnacle of glory by a vision and uplifteth him. For while sleeping that night one appeared unto him, calling him by name, and leading him into the palace of a fair bride, very pleasant and full of knightly armor, to wit, glittering shields and other apparel hanging on the wall as it were waiting for knights to accoutre them therewithal. And while he, rejoicing greatly, marveled silently within himself what this might be, he asked whose were these arms flashing with such splendor and this so pleasant palace? And the answer was made him that the palace and all things therein were his own and his knights’. And thus awakening with joyous heart he rose early.... And so much gayer than his wont did he seem that many wondered thereat, and asked whence had he such joy, unto whom he would reply, “I know that I shall be a great prince.”
It was not the sense of sin that proved the beginning of a new life to this light-hearted Italian. It was rather the sense of a higher chivalry. Another vision came to him. A voice asked, “‘Which can do the better for thee, the lord or the servant?’
“And when he answered, ‘The lord,’ that other said again unto him, ‘Wherefore then dost thou leave the lord for the servant, and a rich lord for a poor?’... Then waking he began earnestly to ponder this vision. And just as in the first vision he had been, as it were, quite carried out of himself for his great joy, coveting worldly good fortune, so in this vision he withdrew within himself entirely, wondering at its might, and meditating so earnestly that he could sleep no more that night.”
At last the new vision took form in an enthusiastic way of life. In the church Francis heard the words of the gospels, “Take no gold nor silver nor money in your purses, nor two coats, nor shoes, nor staff.”
No further did he need to listen. Throwing away his purse, and putting on the garb of a peasant, he devoted himself henceforth not simply to the service of the poor, but to the worship of Poverty. Dante in memorable words described this lover-like devotion.
For he in youth his father’s wrath incurred
For certain Dame, to whom as unto death