The Assisans, having obtained the necessary funds, set to work
to defend themselves against the enemy who were to be seen rolling
their heavy catapults along the dusty roads. A proud historian says,
"they saw without flinching 500 horsemen galloping round their walls,"
and with a heroism worthy of so good a cause, determined to be buried
in the ruins of their city sooner than cede one step to their
abhorred enemies the Perugians. They closed the shops, barred the houses
and threw the chains across the streets to stop advancing cavalry;
every artisan turned soldier, every noble watched from the tower of
his palace. Not only were they guarding their own liberties, but
they feared for the safety of the body of St. Francis, which the
Perugians, ever prowling day and night about the walls, were anxious to
carry off. The siege, it is said, lasted a year, when the Assisans
were forced to give way and open their gates to the enemy, who sacked
the town, "killing more than one hundred of the most wicked citizens,
to wit, all those who fought against the city of Perugia." Then came
a perilous moment, for many, not content with a barbarous pillage, wished
to destroy Assisi altogether. Fortunately a wily Perugian, Massiolo di
Buonante, stood up in her defence, arguing that "Assisi being now in their
power, it were better to possess her fortified, and well provided against any
new attack of the Ghibelline party."[8] His words had due effect, but still
the town suffered horribly, and her walls only lately built were in greater
part razed to the ground. The chains that guarded the streets together with
the bars and keys of the gates were taken back to Perugia, where, until a
century ago, they hung "as glorious trophies" from the claws of the bronze
griffon outside the Palazzo Pubblico. Before leaving, the Perugians gave
their orders to the now submissive city. The Guelphs were to live within
the ancient circle of walls in the upper and more fortified part of
the town, while the Ghibellines were left in the undefended
suburbs.
[Illustration: THE GUELPH LION OF ASSISI]
They further
commanded that each year, on the feast of St. Ercolano, the Assisans should
bring them a banner "worth at least 25 golden florins, _in signum
subjectionis_." This was the greatest ignominy of all, and rankled even more
deeply in the hearts of the citizens of Assisi than the fact of their being
governed by Perugian officials. The delivery of the yearly tribute was
performed in a manner highly characteristic of the times and of the love of
petty tyranny and display peculiar to the mediæval towns. An Assisan horseman
mounted on a splendidly caparisoned charger brought the hated emblem to
lay before the Priors of Perugia, who robed in crimson, with heavy
golden chains about their necks, waited at the foot of the campanile of
San Lorenzo. Close to them stood four mace bearers and trumpeters
with white griffins painted on the red satin streamers which hung from
the silver trumpets. Nothing was neglected that would impress her
subjects with the dignity of her hill-set city. All the Perugians
were assembled, and in their name the Priors promised to defend
Assisi against her enemies and to preserve her from the yoke of
tyrants. Having uttered this solemn mockery, they gave the Podesta of Assisi
a sealed book wherein were written the laws to be observed in return
for the inestimable favours granted; the book was not to be opened
until he and his retinue had returned to their own city. The spirit of
the Assisans was by no means crushed by their misfortunes, and
shortly after the events we have just narrated they issued an edict with
a pomp worthy of Perugia herself which fairly puzzled the Priors of
that city. All Perugians holding land in Assisi were herein ordered to
pay the taxes usually demanded of "strangers" possessing property in
the territory; further, the Assisans proclaimed their firm
determination no longer to observe any orders given to them by the Commune
of Perugia. This audacity was, however, soon checked. Perugia issued
an order to the effect that these statutes, and these alone, which
were decreed by herself were to be valid in Assisi, all others
were worthless. Assisi therefore remained subject to Perugia till
1367, when Cardinal Albornoz who was engaged in recovering the allegiance
of the Papal States, entered her gates. He was received with
wild enthusiasm by the citizens, for they hailed him as their
deliverer from the hated yoke of the Perugians. The Assisans had every reason
to rejoice in this change of masters, as the Cardinal allowed them
to govern their town like a free republic; he rebuilt the walls destroyed
during the last siege, and the castle which had also suffered much from the
Perugian soldiery. The people were delighted, and their artists were soon
busily employed in painting the gilded arms of the church on gateways and on
palaces.
During his brief sojourn in Assisi the war-like Cardinal had
found such peace as he had probably not often known before, and such was
his love for the church of San Francesco that he added to it
several chapels and chose a place for his tomb within its walls. He died
at Viterbo; and only five months after the Assisans had welcomed him
with such rejoicing, they went with torches and candles, to bear his
dead body back to San Francesco, the Priors, says a chronicler,
spending 145 florins upon the crimson gowns they bought for this
occasion.
Days of peace and liberty were short, and the Assisans were
soon groaning beneath the enormous taxes laid upon them by the
zealous ministers of the Pope. In 1376 their indignation rose to such a
pitch that they broke into open rebellion, and joined in the war-cry
against the Church, which was to be heard in other towns of Tuscany
and Umbria. The citizens besieged the Legates in their palaces and
ordered them with haughty words to depart; so seeing it was safer to
obey, they returned to Rome without a word. "Because of their love for
the holy Pontiff, whose servants they were, the Assisans used no
violence towards them," but having got their way with polite bows
accompanied them safely beyond the city gates. But at this time, when all was
war and conspiracy, there seemed no chance of a free life again for
the people. No sooner had one tyrant been disposed of than another rose
to take his place. When news of these events reached the Perugians
they thought it a good opportunity to try and again get possession of
the town, accordingly envoys were sent "just to put things in order"
as they expressed it; but the Assisans shut the gates of the city in their
faces and informed them that in future they intended to manage their own
affairs. We cannot say that their endeavours were crowned with success, the
nobles fought among themselves, while the mob was ever ready for any kind of
novelty. It is related how in the year 1398 the Assisans changed their mind
three times in one day as to who should be their lord. "_Evviva_ the Church"
was the first cry; the second, "_Evviva_ the people of Perugia"; and lastly,
"_Evviva_ Messer Imbroglia," a roving adventurer who alternately fought for
the Duke of Milan and the Pope, and finally entered Assisi at the head of a
large cavalcade as Captain and Gonfalonier of the city.
In the early
centuries Assisi had bravely fought for her independence and held her own
fairly well; but in the fourteenth century a sudden whirlwind swept across
the country threatening to destroy the last remnant of her freedom. At this
time the _condottieri_ were busy carving out principalities for themselves,
and one after another they marched through the land forcing the towns to bear
their yoke. Assisi, not without a sharp struggle, fell a prey to Biordo
Michelotti and Braccio Fortebraccio, successive despots of Perugia; and the
citizens found themselves for the next twenty years in turn the vassals
of Guidantonio of Montefeltro, of Sforza, and of the Pope. In 1442 Perugia
was governed, in the name of the Pope, by Niccolo Piccinino, successor to
Fortebraccio as the leader of the Bracceschi troops, and consequently a
successor to the rivalry with Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan. Assisi,
therefore, who had spontaneously given herself to Sforza, preferring the
tyranny of strangers to the yoke of Perugia, was not likely to be favourably
looked on by Piccinino, and sooner or later he determined to besiege her. But
just at this time Perugia had made peace with all the world, and, delighted
with this novel state of things, she rang the great bell of the Commune, lit
beacon fires on the hills, and sent a special messenger to Assisi to proclaim
the fact. The Assisans, with more courage than discretion, cursed
the messenger and those who sent him, saying they had half a mind to
kill him. "Return with this message," they cried, "say unto those who
sent thee, that they try to wipe us from the face of the earth and
then send words of peace. But we will have war and only war."
This insulting message was duly delivered to the astonished priors,
and that night the beacon fires were extinguished. When news
reached Assisi of the vast preparations in Perugia for war, these hasty
words were regretted. Luckily Francesco Sforza sent the Assisans a
good supply of troops, and every day they hoped for the arrival of
his brother Alessandro.
The month that followed was disastrous to
Assisi, and the account of the war given us by the Perugian chronicler
Graziani who took part in the siege, brings before us vividly the many stages
she had to pass through before arriving at the calm, seraphic days of later
years.
By the end of October 1442, Niccolo Piccinino, alluded to always
as _el Capitano_, arrived in the plain below Assisi with some 20,000
men, and took up his quarters in the Franciscan monastery of San
Damiano. His first intention was to take the town by assault, but on
surveying the fortifications and walls and the impregnable castle, he deemed
it wiser to wait quietly until hunger should have damped the valour of the
citizens. Help, however, came to him from another quarter. It is believed
that a Franciscan friar, perhaps one of those with whom he lodged at San
Damiano, betrayed to him a way into the town by means of an unused
drain.
"On Wednesday, being the 28th day of November, the Captain's
people entered Assisi by an underground drain, which, beginning below
the smaller fortress towards the Carceri, enters Assisi near
the market-place below the castle. There Pazaglia, Riccio da Castello,
and Nicolo Brunoro, with more than 300 men-at-arms, had seen to
clearing the said sewer and cutting through some iron bars at the exit
placed by the Assisans so that none might enter; and Pazaglia and
his companions worked so well that they entered with all their people
one by one. And when they had entered they emerged inside the walls,
and advanced without any noise, holding close to the side of the
said walls so as not to be seen, although the darkness of the night
was great and drizzling rain was falling. But it happened that one
of those within passed by with a lighted torch in his hand, and,
hearing and seeing people, said several times: 'Who goes there.' At
last answer was made to him: 'Friends, friends.' The bearer of the
torch went but a little farther before he began to cry out: 'To arms,
to arms. Awake, awake, for the enemy is within.' So a great tumult
arose throughout the town. Then Pazaglia and his companions, finding
they were discovered, mounted the walls and shouted to those
outside: 'Ladders, ladders. Enter, enter.'"[9]
With cries of "Braccio,
Braccio," the captain led his men rapidly through the town, burning the gate,
killing the citizens, and pillaging every palace as they passed along. When
Alessandro Sforza who had stolen into Assisi the night before, "to comfort
and encourage the citizens," found that the enemy was within he hurried with
a few Assisan notables to take refuge in the castle. From the
tower-girt hill he looked down upon the scene of carnage--and what a sight it
was as pictured by Graziani!
"The anguish, the noise, and the screams
of women and children! God alone knows how fearful a thing it was to see them
all dishevelled; some tearing their faces, some beating their breasts, one
weeping for a father, one for a son, another for a brother, as, crying with
loud voices, they prayed to God for death.... But, in truth, these
same Assisans did themselves much injury, greatly adding to their
own trouble. They might have saved many more of their chattels had
they trusted the Perugians, but rather did they trust the strangers,
and this to their undoing, for the said strangers deceived them. Thus
was proved the truth of that proverb which says: 'The offender
never pardons.' Often aforetime had they offended the Commune of Perugia
as we have seen. Even at this moment, when its forces were
encamped outside Assisi, they constantly stood on their walls and
hurled insulting and menacing words at the Perugians, defying and
threatening them, whom for this reason peradventure they did not trust....
Also on the same day, while the city was being sacked, a multitude of
women with their children and goods, took sanctuary in Santa Chiara;
and when the captain passed and saw so many women and children
sheltered there, he said to the women, especially to the nuns of Santa
Chiara, that it was no longer a safe refuge for them, and if they would
choose where they wished to go he would send them thither in safety.
Then, naming to them all the neighbouring towns, he lastly offered to
place them in safety in the city of Perugia. But when they heard the name
of Perugia, first the nuns and then the other women replied, 'May
Perugia be destroyed by fire.' And when the captain heard this answer,
he immediately cried, 'Pillage, pillage!' Thus was everything
plundered and ruined--the convent with the nuns, the women and the children,
and much booty was there...."[10]
Assisi, now the shell of her former
self, seemed indeed a city of the dead. Through her deserted streets, running
with the blood of the slain, echoed the sound of falling rafters and
crumbling palaces, while bon-fires flamed on the piazza fed with the public
archives by the destroying Perugians. Across the Tiber were to be seen the
unhappy citizens being driven like droves of cattle by their captors up
the hill to the city they hated. There the women, with their
children clinging round their necks, were sold in the market-place as
slaves, and exposed to the cruellest treatment by their masters. Even
tiny children of four and five years old were sold; a maiden, we are
told, fetched fifteen ducats, and many were bought, sometimes for the
love of God, and sometimes as maidservants. Every day fresh booty
was brought in, and the Perugians fought over the gold chalices,
missals, and other treasures robbed from churches and convents; but
these brought lower prices, for even Perugian consciences seem to have
been troubled with scruples, and superstitious fear kept them from
buying stolen church property. While the slave market was proceeding
amidst the clanging of bells proclaiming the victory, the Priors of
Perugia sat in their council hall of the great Palazzo Pubblico discussing
how they could bring about the total annihilation of Assisi. The
following curious letter was finally written, sealed, and sent to
Niccolo Piccinino by five ambassadors who were to tempt him to do the
deed with a bribe of 15,000 ducats:
"Your illustrious Signory being
well aware how that city has ever been the scandal of this one, and that now
the time has come to take this beam from out of our eyes, we pray and
supplicate your illustrious Signory, in the name of this city and of the
State, that it may please you to act in such wise that this your city shall
never again have reason to fear her; and so, as appears good to all
the community, it will be well to raze her to the ground, saving only
the churches. And this will be the most singular among other favours
that your illustrious Signory has ever done to us."[11]
"Trust in my
words and trust in my deeds," replied Piccinino to the bearers of this truly
mediæval letter; but, adds the chronicler, he refused his consent to their
cowardly scheme for the destruction of the town. It is believed that he was
acting upon orders received from Eugenius IV, who appears as the benevolent
genius of Assisi, until, as the local historians tell us with rage, the Pope
offered to sell them to the Commune of Perugia, when his clemency seems due
solely to the fact that the papal coffers were sadly empty. Luckily the
Perugians, somewhat in debt owing to the late war, were unable to pay the
price, and Assisi thus escaped being given "like a lamb to the
butcher," while her enemy missed the chance "of removing that beam from out
of her eye."
From this time onward Assisi remained in the possession
of the Church, and many of the Popes, touched by the miserable condition of
the town, supplied money to rebuild its ruined walls and palaces, and
thus induce the citizens to return and inhabit the desolate city.
But hardly had the Assisans succeeded in getting back some kind of
order and prosperity than new wars appeared to ruffle the onward flow
of things. This time the danger came from within, and in Assisi, as in so
many of the cities of Italy, it was the feud between the nobles themselves
that drenched the streets with blood and crushed the struggles of a people
whose cries for liberty were now only faintly heard. All sank beneath the
heavy hand of the despot. The Perugian citizens were being tyrannised over by
the powerful family of the Baglioni, whose name brings up a picture of crime
and bloodshed that has hardly been equalled in any town in Italy.[12] In
Assisi the balance of power lay between the two families of Fiumi and Nepis,
who, in the irregular fashion of the time, alternately ruled the city
in opposition to the legal sovereignty of the Papacy. The city was sharply
divided into the Upper town, where the Nepis had their palaces near the
castle and San Rufino, and the Lower town, inhabited entirely by the Fiumi
and their adherents, which clustered round the church of Santa Chiara and
down to San Francesco. These two families sought perpetually to outshine each
other, and such was the reputation they gained among the people in the
country round that even the Perugian chroniclers speak of them as "most
cultured and splendid citizens," praising their horsemanship and the
magnificence of their dress. So great was the rivalry between the members of
the two families Fiumi and Nepis that, when they met in the piazza of Assisi
where the nobles often walked in the evening, they would provoke each other
with scornful looks and words, and often this was a signal for a
skirmish. The _bravi_ would gather round them, and in an instant the whole
town be roused to arms. After a sharp fight one party was driven to
retire to its strongholds in the open country, while the victorious
nobles seized the reins of government, and the weary citizens sank
beneath the rule of the despots. Assisi presented a most melancholy
spectacle at the end of one of these encounters. Most of the dwellings of
the exiled nobles lay in ruins, the churches were shut in consequence
of the perpetual bloodshed, and the palaces, barred and chained, with
the gratings drawn up before the entrance, seemed to be inhabited by
no living being. Franciscan friars stole along the streets on
their errands of mercy among the distressed citizens, who, besides
the horrors of the city feuds, suffered from the pestilence and
famine which decimated nearly all the towns of Italy at this period. But
this death-like silence within the town was never of long duration.
The exiled party, ever on the alert to regain possession of their
homes, would creep into the town at some unguarded moment and once more
stir a people to fight who were beginning to chafe beneath the irksome
rule of the rival despots.
A climax of evils came when, in addition to
a hundred other ills, the Baglioni of Perugia took upon themselves to
interfere.
In 1494 we find the Fiumi and the Nepis living peaceably in
their palaces, dividing the power in Assisi, until at last the
hot-headed Fiumi grew weary of the even balance of things, and determined at
one stroke to rid themselves of every foe. In open combat they
had attempted this and failed, so a treacherous plot was hatched.
Jacopo Fiumi, head of the house, and his brother Alessandro, persuaded
their friends, the Priors of the city, to prepare a great banquet in
the Communal Palace and invite all the members of the rival family to
be present. Unarmed, and not dreaming of danger, the Nepis entered the big
hall. No sooner had they thrown off their cloaks than the Fiumi rushed upon
them with drawn swords and knives. Angered by such wanton treachery, the
citizens drove the murderers from the city; and the Priors, protected by the
darkness of the night, fled into the open country to seek a refuge in some
neighbouring town.
Now this event, like many others, might have subsided
and been followed by a period of peace, only it happened that the Baglioni
were allies of the Nepis and ready to avenge them in Assisi. They
had, moreover, old scores to settle with Jacopo Fiumi, who, Matarazzo
tells us, in pained surprise, "was a most cruel enemy of the house
of Baglioni and of every Perugian, and studied day and night how he
might injure those of Perugia, so that he was the cause of much trouble
to the magnificent house of Baglioni."[13] This was therefore a
good opportunity for the Baglioni to lay siege to Assisi, and
perpetual skirmishes took place in the plain, which sapped the life-blood of
the citizens and laid waste the Umbrian country for many miles around.
The peasants, whose grain had been trampled down by the Baglioni,
were driven half-naked into the woods, and watched the high roads from
the heights above Assisi like birds of prey, swooping down to rob or
kill travellers passing by. Badgers, wolves, and foxes roamed unmolested
in the plain, and fed upon the unburied bodies of the murdered
travellers and of those who fell in battle; while, in the dead of night,
the friars of the Portiuncula stole out to bury what bones the wild
beasts had left. Things had come to such a pass that the Assisans, as we
are told, knew not what to say or do, so many of their number were dead
or taken captive and the enemy was ever at their gates. Giovan
Paolo, mounted on his black charger, "which did not run but flew," led
the Perugians to storm the town and draw the citizens out to battle.
He was one of the fiercest of the Baglioni brood and a famous soldier, and
yet it was in vain he sought to inspire the Assisans with fear. "Indeed,"
says Matarazzo, "each one proved himself valiant on either side; for the
Assisans had become warlike and inured to arms, and they were all iniquitous
and desperate."[14] The foes were of equal strength and courage, and the war,
which had already lasted three years, seemed likely to have no end. But one
day the Assisans, watching from their ramparts, saw a large squadron of
soldiers hurrying from Perugia to the aid of the Baglioni, and they began
to ring the city bells as a signal that the moment had come for the
final stand. Those who were skirmishing in the plain against Giovan
Paolo began to lose heart when they heard the clanging of the bells, and
the Perugians, perceiving their advantage, took new courage, so that
"each one became as a lion." More than sixty Assisans were slain that
day, while the prisoners suffered cruelly under the vengeance of those
who took this opportunity of remembering offences of past years. "And
thus did his lordship, the magnificent Giovan Paolo, return victorious
and joyful from this great and dangerous battle."[15]
Once the gates
of Assisi were forced open, the Baglioni and their _bravi_ scoured the
streets from end to end, killing all they encountered, and dragging from the
churches the poor women who sought shelter and protection. The blood-thirsty
brood did not even respect the Church of San Francesco; and the friars, in a
letter to their patron Guidobaldo, Duke of Urbino, complain most bitterly of
the crimes committed within the sacred edifice, even on the very steps
of the altar. "The poor city of Assisi," the letter says, "has known
only sorrow through the perpetual raids of the Baglioni, whose many
crimes would be condemned even by the infidel Turks. They rebel against
the holy Pontiff, and such is their ferocity that they have set fire
to the gates of the city--even unto that of the Basilica of San Francesco.
They do not shudder to murder men, cook their flesh, and give it to the
relations of the slain to eat in their prison dungeons."[16] Matarazzo also
dwells on the sad conditions of Assisi during her final struggle for
independence. "So great was the pestilence and the famine within the walls
that human tongue could not describe it, for great woe there was, and such
scarcity and penury in Assisi as had never been known. I myself have talked
to men who were in Assisi at that time, and who, on remembering those days of
famine, pestilence, and war were bathed in tears; and, if the subject had
come up a thousand times in a day, a thousand times would they have
wept bitterly, so dark was the memory thereof. Not only did they weep,
but those also who listened to them, for they would recount how
they wandered by the walls of the town, and down to the hamlets, and
in every place searching for herbs to eat; and how, forced by hunger, they
ate all manner of cooked herbs, and many people sustained themselves with
three or four cooked nuts dipped in wine, and with this they made good
cheer."[17]
In reading the terrible chronicle of these years, one asks,
"How did any life survive in the face of such ghastly suffering?" The
strange fact remains that life not only survived, but that the Assisans
even flourished during the period, and, like half-drowned birds,
who, rising to the surface, bask for a while in the sunshine and
then spread their wings for a fresh flight, they too arose and
prospered. But the time was drawing near when these continual efforts were
no longer needed. The rival factions had reached the summit of
their savage strength, and the city despots were soon to be swept from
the land by the whirlwind they themselves had raised.
In the year
1500, during one awful night of carnage at Perugia, the Baglioni were nearly
all murdered through the treachery of some of their own family. The manner in
which the clansmen sought out their victims and stabbed them in their sleep,
driving their teeth into their hearts in savage fury, sent a thrill of horror
throughout Italy. The downfall of this powerful house affected the destiny of
Assisi, for Perugia was brought under the immediate dominion of the
church, and with the advent of Paul III, she lost her independence, which
she never again recovered. A mighty fortress was erected on the site
of the Baglioni palaces, and the significant words "_Ad
coercendam Perusinorum audacam_" were inscribed upon its walls. The Farnese
Pope meant to warn, not only the citizens of that proud city which he
had brought so successfully within his net, but also the Assisans and
the other Umbrians who, with anxious eyes, were watching the storms
that wrecked Perugia.
With this new order of things the last flicker
of mediæval liberty was being extinguished, and when Paul III, ordered the
cannons from the castle of Assisi to be transferred to his new fortress at
Perugia, the Assisans felt that a crisis had been reached and that henceforth
they must be guided by the menacing finger of an indomitable pontiff.
One last effort she did indeed make to save her dignity: she begged to
be governed independently of her old rival Perugia. To this the
Pope agreed, and a Papal Legate came with great pomp and was met
outside the gates by the Priors, nobles, and citizens of Assisi. With
that great Farnese fortress looming in the distance they were forced
to make some show of gladness as they followed him in solemn
procession through the town and up the steep hill to the Rocca Maggiore. Here
the Legate walked round the ramparts and through the spacious halls of
the castle, taking possession of all in the name of the Church of
Rome. Then the Castellano knelt down before him, and as he handed the
keys over to his keeping, the history of war and strife in Assisi
abruptly closed.
[Illustration: THE ARMS OF
ASSISI]
[Illustration: ASSISI IN THE TIME OF ST.
FRANCIS]
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The legend may have arisen from the fact
that Minerva had a temple near Miletos under the title of Assesia and the
legend-weavers have caught at the similarity of sound to that of their own
Umbrian town.
[2] _Carmina_, i. 22, translated by R. C.
Trevelyan.
[3] _Carmina_, IV. i. 121; translated by R. C. Trevelyan. In
another place Propertius gives bolder utterance to his pride:
"Whosoever beholds the town climbing the valley side, let him measure the
fame of their walls by my genius" (_Carmina_, iv. 5).
[4] See
Cristofani, _Storia d'Assisi_, p. 42 for text of the MS.
[5] Dante,
_Inferno_, xix. p. 115. Translated by John Milton.
[6] See _Les Nouveaux
Memoires de l'Academie de Bruxelles_ (t. xxiii. pp. 29, 33); also _Un nouveau
Chapitre de la Vie de S. Francois d'Assise_, par Paul Sabatier.
[7]
Perugia was, on the whole, faithful to the Guelph cause. She was patronised
by the Popes on account of her strong position overlooking the Tiber, and
when inclined she freely acknowledged them as her masters but at the same
time she was careful to guard her independence.
[8] _Cronaca
Graziani_, p. 522.
[9] _Cronaca Graziani_, pp. 512 and 513.
[10]
_Cronaca Graziani_, p. 513.
[11] _Cronaca Graziani_, p. 514, note
1.
[12] For a full account of the Baglioni see the
sixteenth-century chronicle of Matarazzo (_Archivio Storico Italiano_, vol.
xvi. part ii.), who has immortalised their crimes in classic language; and
also _The Story of Perugia_ (Mediæval Towns Series, J. M. Dent &
Co.).
[13] _Cronaca Matarazzo_, p. 75.
[14] _Cronaca Matarazzo_,
p. 75.
[15] _Ibid._
[16] Fratini, _Storia della Basilica di San
Francesco_, p. 287.
[17] _Cronaca di Matarazzo_, p.
75.
CHAPTER II
_The Umbrian Prophet_
"Fra
santi il pui santo, e tra i peccatori quasi uno di loro."--Celano. _Vita_
I. cap. xxix.
Often while reading the Italian chroniclers we forget
that a life of chivalry, song, tournament, and pagan pleasure-making was
passed in a mediæval town even while war, pestilence, and famine cast a
settled gloom on every home. Lazar-houses stood at the gates of the city
while sumptuous feasts were spread in the banqueting halls of palaces.
Men rebelled against the ugliness and squalor produced by a hundred
ills that swept over Italy during the twelfth century,[18] and so it
came about that in the darkest hours of a city's history, scenes of
maddest revelry were enacted. At this period were founded the Brigate
Amorose, or Companies of young nobles, whose one aim in life was
amusement. There were few towns in Italy, however small, in which these
gay youths did not organise magnificent sports and tournaments[19]
to which the ladies came in gowns of rich brocades or "fair velvet," their
tresses garlanded with precious jewels and flowers. Or knights, ladies, and
other folk would meet in the piazzas and pass the summer evenings
with
"Provencal songs and dances that surpass; And quaint
French mummings: and through hollow brass A sound of German music in the
air."[20]
Late at night after a splendid banquet, the nobles wandered
through the streets singing as they followed the lead of one chosen
by themselves, whom they called the Lord of Love. Sometimes their
ranks were swelled by passing troubadours from Provence who sang of
the feats of Charlemagne and of King Arthur and his knights. For it
was the time when Bernard de Ventadour was singing some of his
sweetest love lyrics, and people were alternately laughing at
the whimsicalities of Pierre Vidal and weeping at the tender pathos of
his poems.[21] Those who listened to these songsters were, for the
moment, deceived into thinking life was full of love and mirth, and
sorrow only touched them when their lady frowned. The music of Provence
found a way across the Alps to the feudal courts of Este and Ferrara,
to Verona, and later, southwards to Sicily, where Frederick the Great
was king. It came even to the towns which lay hidden in the folds of
the Umbrian mountains, and some of its sweetest strains were echoed
back again from Assisi. Her troubadour was Francis Bernardone, the
rich merchant's son, leader of the young nobles who, in their
carousals, named him Lord of Love, and placed the kingly sceptre in his hand
as he walked at their head through the streets at night, rousing
the sleepy Assisan burghers with wild bursts of song.
Francis had
learned the Provencal language from his mother, Madonna Pica, whom Pietro
Bernardone[22] is said to have met while journeying from castle to castle in
Provence, tempting the ladies to buy his merchandise as he told them news of
Italy. The early writers do not mention her nationality, they only allude to
her as _Madonna_, which might imply that she was of noble birth; the later
legend, which says that she was of the family of the counts of Bourlemont, is
without foundation. We know she was a good and tender mother to Francis,
who was left mostly in her charge, as Pietro Bernardone was so
often absent in France. She taught him to love the world of romance
and chivalry peopled by the heroes of the troubadours, and there he
found an escape from the gloom that enveloped Assisi during those early
days of warfare which were enough to sadden that joyous nature rarely
found among saints. Celano gives a graphic picture of the temptations
to which the youths of the middle ages were exposed, even in infancy
in their own homes. This danger Francis escaped, but the companions
with whom he spent the first twenty years of his life in gay living had
not been so well guarded, and Francis was not slow to feel the
influence of his time. We must remember that the accounts we have of him
were written under the papal eye, and it is patent that both as sinner
and as saint he took a leading part.
"He was always first among his
equals in all vanities," says Celano, "the first instigator of evil, and
behind none in foolishness, so that he drew upon himself the attention of the
public by vain-glorious extravagance, in which he stood foremost. He was not
chary of jokes, ridicule, light sayings, evil-speaking, singing, and in the
wearing of soft and fine clothes; being very rich he spent freely, being
less desirous of accumulating wealth than of dissipating his
substance; clever at trafficking, but too vain to prevent others from
spending what was his: withal a man of pleasant manners, facile and
courteous even to his own disadvantage; for this reason, therefore,
many, through his fault, became evil-doers and promoters of scandal.
Thus, surrounded by many worthless companions, triumphantly and
scornfully he went upon his way."[23]
His early years passed away in
feasting and singing with an occasional journey to a neighbouring town to
sell the Bernardone wares, until 1202 when war broke out between Perugia and
Assisi, and the big bell of the cathedral called the citizens to arms in the
Piazza della Minerva. Men gathered round their captain, while from the
windows of every house women gesticulated wildly, almost drowning the clank
of armour and the tramp of horses by their shrill screams. Francis, on
a magnificent charger, rode out of the city gates abreast with the nobles
of Assisi, filling the bourgeois heart of Pietro with delight, that a son of
his should be thus honoured. It was a beautiful sight to see the communal
armies winding down to the plain, one coming from the western hill, the other
from the southern, to match their strength by the Tiber. They were "troops of
knights, noble in face and form, dazzling in crest and shield; horse and man
one labyrinth of quaint colour and gleaming light--the purple, and silver,
and scarlet fringes flowing over the strong limbs and clashing mail like sea
waves over rocks at sunset."[24]
The Assisans were vanquished: no
details of the fight have come down to us, but we know that the nobles lay in
a Perugian prison for a year and that it was Francis who cheered them, often
astonishing them with his wild spirits. They told him he was mad to dance so
gaily in a prison, but nothing saddened him in those days.
When peace
was at last made, with hard terms for Assisi, the prisoners returned home and
threw themselves with renewed vigour into their former pursuit of pleasure,
and soon afterwards Francis fell ill of a fever which brought him near the
grave. Face to face with death he stood a while, and the result of the danger
he had passed through worked an extraordinary change in his nature. His
recovery was in reality a return to a new life, both of body and soul. Celano
tells us that Francis "being somewhat stronger and able to walk about the
house leaning on a stick, in order to complete his restoration to health
one day went forth and with unusual eagerness gazed at the vast extent
of country which lay before him; yet neither the charm of the vineyards or
of aught that is pleasant to look on, were of any consolation
to him."[25]
It was probably from the Porta Nuova, close to where the
church of Santa Chiara now stands, that he looked out on the Umbrian country
he loved so well. Here Mount Subasio rises grey and bleak above the
olive groves which slope gradually down to the valley where a white
road leads past Spello to Foligno in the plain and on to Spoleto high up
in the mountain gorge which brings the valley to a close. All these
towns were dear and familiar to Francis. He had watched them in spring
time when the young corn was ripening near their walls and the
children came out to look for the sweet scented narcissi. While wandering
on the hill sides at dawn he had seen the brown roofs warmed by the
first rays of the sun and each window twinkle like so many eyes across
the plain in answer to the light. But as he looked now upon the same
scene a great sadness came over him, and we are told he wondered at
the sudden inward change. That hour in the smiling Umbrian landscape
was the most solitary he ever experienced; ill and weak he awoke to
the emptiness of the life he had hitherto led, and in the bitterness
of his soul he did not know where to turn for comfort.[26]
It is a
remarkable fact that Celano does not from this moment picture Francis as an
aureoled saint, but allows us to realise the many difficulties he had to
overcome before he stands once more among the vineyards with a song of praise
upon his lips, and a look of victory in his eyes.
Although Francis
began to "despise those things he had formerly held dear," he was not
altogether freed from the bonds of vanity, nor had he "thrown off the yoke of
servitude"; for when restored to health he was full of ambitious projects to
make a great career for himself in the world. The realisation of his dreams
seemed indeed near, as it happened at this time that a noble knight of Assisi
was preparing to join the army of Gauthier de Brienne, then fighting the
battles of Pope Innocent III, in Apulia. Francis, "greedy of glory,"
determined to accompany the knight to the wars, and began to prepare for
the journey with more than usual magnificence. He was all impatience
to start, and his mind was full of the expedition when he had a
dream which filled him with hope. In lieu of the bales of silk in
his father's warehouse, stood saddles, shields, and lances, all
marked with the red cross, and as he marvelled at the sight a voice told
him those arms were intended for himself and his soldiers. Rising
next morning full of ambitious plans after such an omen of good fortune,
he mounted his charger and rode through the town bidding farewell to
his friends. He smiled on all and seemed so light of heart that
they pressed round asking what made him so merry. "I shall yet be a
great prince," he answered, and he passed out of the Porta Nuova, where
but a short while before he had stood looking down so sadly on the
valley he was now to traverse as an armoured knight. At Spoleto he had
a return of intermittent fever, and while chafing at the delay a
voice called to him: "Francis, who can do the most good, the master or
the servant?"
"The master," answered Francis, not in the least
astonished by the mysterious question.
"Why then dost thou leave the
master for the servant, and the prince for the follower? Return to thy
country, there shalt thou be told what to do; for thou hast mistaken the
meaning and wrongly interpreted the vision sent thee by God."
Next
morning, leaving the knight to continue the journey alone, he mounted his
horse and returned to Assisi, where he was doubtless received with
disappointment by his parents, and with gibes by the citizens who had
listened to his boasts of future greatness. Once again he went back to work
in his father's shop, but now when the young nobles called to him to join in
their revels he went listlessly, often escaping from their midst to wander
alone in the fields or pass long hours praying in a grotto near the city. One
day his friends, in despair at his frequent absences, gave a grand banquet,
making him "King of the feast." He delighted them all with fitful bursts of
merry wit, but at last when the revellers rushed out into the night to
roam about the town till dawn, Francis fell back from the gay throng,
and stood gazing up at the calm Umbrian sky decked in all its splendour
of myriad stars. When the others returned in search of their leader, they,
wondering at the change that had come over the wildest spirit of Assisi,
assailed him with questions. "Are you thinking of marrying, Francis," cried
one jester, and amidst the laughter of all came his quiet answer: "Yes, a
wife more noble and more beautiful than ye have ever seen; she will outshine
all others in beauty and in wisdom." Already the image of the Lady Poverty
had visited him, and enamoured like a very troubadour he composed songs in
her honour as he walked in the woods near Assisi.
The kind heart of
Francis had always been touched at the sight of the poor lepers, who, exiled
from the companionship of their fellow creatures, lived in a lazar-house on
the plain, about a mile from the town. But his compassion for their misery
was mingled with a strong feeling of repugnance, so that he had always
shunned these wretched outcasts. "When I was in the bondage of sin," he tells
us in his will, "it was bitter to me, and loathsome to see, and loke uppon
persouny enfect with leopre; but that blessed Lord broughte me amonge them,
and I did mercy with them, and departing from them, what before
semyd bittre and lothesomme was turned and changed to me in great
sweetnesse and comfort both of body and of soule, and afterwards in this
state I stode and abode a lytle while, and then I lefte and forsooke
the worldly lyf."[27]
Pietro Bernardone now saw his son, clothed in
rags, his face pinched and white from long vigils spent in prayer, going
forth on errands of mercy, jeered at by the citizens, pelted with stones and
filth by the children. There were many storms in the Bernardone household
which the gentle Pica was unable to quell; and when finally Francis began
to throw his father's money among the poor in the same regal manner
in which he had once spent it among his boon companions, Bernardone
could bear it no longer, and drove his son from the house. When they met
he cursed him, and the family bonds thus severed were never
again renewed.
Francis was still like a pilgrim uncertain of his goal,
or like a man standing before a heavy burden which he feels unable to lift.
What was he to do with his life--how could he help the poor and
suffering--were questions he asked himself over and over again as he vainly
sought for an anchor in the troubled seas. The answer came to him one day as
he was attending mass at the chapel of the Portiuncula on the feast of St.
Matthew the apostle, in the year 1209.
"And as ye go, preach, saying, The
kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the
dead, cast out devils: freely ye have received, freely give. Provide neither
gold, nor silver, nor brass in your purses, nor scrip for your journey,
neither two coats, neither shoes, nor yet staves" ... read the priest from
the gospel of the day. Those simple words were a revelation to Francis, who,
when mass was over, ran out into the woods, and, with only the birds
in the oak trees to witness his strange interpretation of the
gospel, threw away his shoes, wallet, staff and well-filled purse. "This
is what I desired; behold, here is what I searched for and am burning
to perform," he cried, in the delirium of his new-found joy.
If the
Assisans had been astonished at his former eccentricities, as they termed his
deeds of charity, they were yet more amazed to see him now, clothed in a
coarse habit, with a knotted cord round his waist, and with bare feet,
begging his bread from door to door. After a little while they grew
accustomed to the hurrying figure of the young mendicant as he passed rapidly
down the street greeting all he met with the salutation of "Our Lord give
thee His peace." The words brought something new and strange into men's
hearts, and those who had scoffed at him most drew near to learn the secret
of their charm. The first to be touched by the simplicity and joyous
saintliness of Francis was Bernardo di Quintevalle, a wealthy noble of
Assisi, who had known him as King among the young Assisan revellers, and
watched with astonishment his complete renouncement of the world.
He determined to join Francis in ministering to the lepers, and began
his new mode of life by selling all his possessions for the benefit of
the poor. His conversion created a considerable stir in the town;
and people had not ceased to gossip on the subject when another
well-known citizen, Pietro de Catanio, a canon of the cathedral, also offered
his services at the lazar-house. A few days later a labourer named
Egidio "beholding how those noble knights of Assisi despised the world,
so that the whole country stood amazed," came in search of Francis to
beg him to take him as one of his companions. Francis met him at
the entrance of the wood by the lazar hospital, and gazing on the
devout aspect of Egidio, answered and said: "Brother most dear, God has
shown Himself exceeding gracious unto thee. If the Emperor were to come
to Assisi and desire to make a certain citizen his knight or
private chamberlain, ought not such a one to be exceeding glad? How much
more oughtest thou not to rejoice that God hath chosen thee out to be
His knight and well-beloved servant, to observe the perfection of the
Holy Gospel"?[28] and, taking him by the hand, he brought him to the
hut which was their home. Here a merchant's son, a learned churchman,
and a rich nobleman, welcomed an Assisan labourer in their midst with
the simple brotherly love which was to be the keynote of the
franciscan order. After the reception of Egidio we are told that Francis
went with him to the Marches of Ancona, "singing glorious praises of
the Lord of heaven and earth" as they travelled along the dusty
roads. Albeit Francis did not preach publicly to the people, yet as he
went by the way he admonished and corrected the men-folk and
the women-folk, saying lovingly to them these simple words: "Love and
fear God, and do fit penance for your sins." And Egidio would say: "Do
what this my spiritual Father saith unto you, for he speaketh right
well."
It was not long before the fame of Francis drew quite a
little community of brethren to the tiny hut in the plain, and the
question naturally occurs--Did Francis plan out the creation of an order
when he gathered men around him? It was so natural a thing for disciples
to follow him that his biographers simply note it as a fact, and,
not being given to speculation in those days, pass on to other events.
We may be allowed to conjecture that the same ambition which some
years before had stirred his longing to be a great prince was not
dead, only his dreams were to be realised in another sphere of action.
The qualities which made him the brilliant leader among the gay nobles of
Assisi were now turned into another channel--he became a prince among saints, a
controller of men's destinies. |
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