FRANCIS
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FRANCIS
and his parents seem to have indulged his every whiin.
Thomas of Celano, his first biographer, speaks in very
severe terms of Francis's youth. Certain it is that the
saint's early life gave no presage of the golden years
that were to come. No one loved pleasure more than
Francis; he had a ready wit, sang merrily, delighted
in fine clothes and showy display. Handsome, gay,
gallant, and courteous, he soon became the prime
favourite among the young nobles of Assisi, the fore-
most in every feat of arms, the leader of the civil revels,
the very king of frolic. But even at this time Francis
showed an instinctive sympathy with the poor, and
though he spent money lavishly, it still flowed in such
channels as to attest a princely magnanimity of spirit.
When about twenty, Francis went out with the towns-
men to fight the Perugians in one of the petty skir-
mishes so frequent at that time between the rival cities.
The Assisians were defeated on this occasion, and
Francis, being among those taken prisoners, was held
captive for more than a year in Perugia. A low fever
which he there contracted appears to have turned his
thoughts to the things of eternity; at least the empti-
ness of the life he had been leading came to him during
that long illness. With returning health, however,
Francis's eagerness after glorj' reawakened and his
fancy wandered in search of victories; at length he
resolved to embrace a military career, and circum-
stances seemed to favour his aspirations. A knight of
Assisi was about to join "the gentle count", Walter of
Brienne, who was then in arms in the Neapolitan
States against the emperor, and Francis arranged to
accompany him. His biographers tell us that the
night before Francis set forth he had a strange dream,
in which he saw a vast hall hung with armour all
marked with the Cross. "These", said a voice, "are
for you and your soldiers ". "I know I shall be a great
prince", exclaimed Francis exultingly, as he started
for Apuha. But a second illness arrested his course at
Spoleto. There, we are told, Francis had another
dream in which the same voice bade him turn back to
Assisi. He did so at once. This was in 1205.
Although Francis still joined at times in the noisy revels of his former comrades, his changed demeanour plainly showed that his heart was no longer with them ; a. yearning for the lifo nf tlip spiril. linH nlrpndy pos- sessed it. His companions twitted Francis on his absent-mindedness and asked if he were minded to be married. "Yes", he replied, "I am about to take a wife of surpassing fairness. " She was none other than that Lady Poverty whom Dante and Giotto have wedded to his name, and whom even now he had be- gun to love. After a short period of uncertainty he began to seek in prayer and solitude the answer to his call; he had already given up his gay attire and waste- ful ways. One day, while crossing the Umbrian plain on horseback, Francis unexpectedly drew near a poor leper. The sudden appearance of this repulsive object filled him with disgust and he instinctively retreated, but presently controlling hLs natural aversion he dis- mounted, embraced the unfortunate man, and gave him all the money he had. About the same time Fran- cis made a pilgrimage to Rome. Pained at the miserly offerings he saw at the tomb of St. Peter, he emptied his purse thereon. Then, as if to put his fastidious nature to the test, he exchanged clothes with a tat- tered mendicant and stood for the rest of the day fasting among the horde of beggars at the door of the basilica. Not long after his return to Assisi, whilst Francis was praying before an ancient crucifLx in the forsaken wayside chapel of St. Damian's below the town, he heard a voice saying: "Go, Francis, and repair my house, which as you see is falling into ruin." Taking this behest literally, as referring to the ruinous church wherein he knelt, Francis went to his father's shop, impulsively l)iincllc(l (ogether a load of coloured drapery, and moiiiiling his horse hastened to Foligno, then a mart of some importance, and there sold both
horse and stuff to procure the money needful for the
restoration of St. Damian's. When, however, the poor
priest who officiated there refused to receive the gold
thus gotten, Francis flung it from him disdainfully.
The elder Bernardone, a most niggardly man, was
incensed beyond measure at his son's conduct, and
Francis, to avert his father's wrath, hid himself in a
cave near St. Damian's for a whole month. When he
emerged from this place of concealment and returned
to the town, emaciated with hunger and squahd with
dirt, Francis was followed by a hooting rabble, pelted
with mud and stones, and otherwise mocked as a mad-
mau. Finally, he was dragged home by his father,
beaten, bound, and locked in a dark closet. Freed by
his mother during Bernardone's absence, Francis re-
turned at once to St. Damian's, where he found a
shelter with the officiating priest, but he was soon after
cited before the city consuls by his father. The latter,
not content with having recovered the scattered gold
from St. Damian's, sought also to force his son to
forego his inheritance. This Francis was only too
eager to do; he declared, however, that since he had
entered the service of God he was no longer under civil
jurisdiction. Having therefore been taken before the
bishop, Francis stripped himself of the very clothes he
wore, and gave them to his father, saying: "Hitherto
I have called you my father on earth; henceforth I
desire to say only 'Our Father who art in Heaven.'"
Then and there, as Dante sings, were solemnized
Francis's nuptials with his beloved spouse, the Lady
Poverty, under which name, in the mystical language
afterwards so familiar to him, he comprehended the
total surrender of all worldly goods, honours, and
privileges. And now Francis wandered forth into the
hills behind Assisi, improvising hymns of praise as he
went. "I am the herald of the great King", he de-
clared in answer to some robbers, who thereupon
despoiled him of all he had and threw him scornfully
in a snow drift. Naked and half frozen, Francis
crawled to a neighbouring monastery and there
worked for a time as a scullion. At Gubbio, whither
he went next, Francis obtained from a friend the cloak,
girdle, and staff of a pilgrim as an alms. Returning to
Assisi, he traversed the city begging stones for the
restoration of St. Damian's. These he carried to the
old cnapel, set in place himself, and so at length rebuilt
it. In the same way Francis afterwards restored two
other deserted chapels, St. Peter's, some distance
from the city, and St. Mary of the Angels, in the plain
below it, at a spot called the Porziuncola. Meantime
he redoubled his zeal in works of charity, more espe-
cially in nursing the lepers.
On a certain morning in 1208, probably 24 Febru- ary, Francis was hearing Mass in the chapel of St. Mary of the Angels, near which he had then built him- self a hut; the Gospel of the day told how the disciples of Christ were to possess neither gold nor silver, nor scrip for their journey, nor two coats, nor shoes, nor a staff, and that they were to exhort sinners to repent- ance and announce the Kingdom of God. Francis took these words as if spoken directly to himself, and so soon as Mass was over threw away the poor frag- ment left him of the world's goods, his shoes, cloak, pilgrim staff, and empty wallet. At last he had found his vocation. Having obtained a coarse woolen tunic of "beast colour", the dress then worn by the poorest Umbrian peasants, and tied it round him with a knotted rope, Francis went forth at once exhorting the people of the country-side to penance, brotherly love, and peace. The Assisians had already ceased to scoff at Franois; they now paused in wonderment; his exaniiile even drew others tii him, Bernard of Qiiiiilavallr, a. miiuiiiile of tin' to\yii, was the first to join Francis, and lie was soon followed by Peter of Cattaneo, a well-known canon of the cathedral. In the true spirit of religious enthusiasm, Francis re- paired to the church of St. Nicholas and sought to
