Lina Duff Gordon - The Story of Assisi

Statue of St. Francis.

Title Page

The Story of Assisi

London: J. M. Dent & Co.
Aldine House, 29 and 30 Bedford Street
Covent Garden W.C. * * 1901

All rights reserved

To
Margaret Vaughan
this small book is affectionately dedicated
in remembrance of days spent together
in the Umbrian country

M y sincerest thanks are due to my aunt Mrs Ross, to Mrs Vaughan, Dr E. Percival Wright, M. Paul Sabatier, Mr Sidney Colvin, Sir William Markby and Mr Pearsall Smith, for the help rendered me in various ways during the writing of this book. I wish further to acknowledge the kindness of Mr Roger Fry who allowed me to quote from his lectures on Art delivered this year in London, before they were published in the New Monthly Review; and also the generous permission of Mr Anderson (Rome), and Signor Lunghi (Assisi), for allowing me to use their photographs. For the loan of old Italian books I am indebted to Cav. Bruschi, Librarian of the Marucelliana at Florence, to Professor Bellucci, Professor of the University of Perugia, and to Signor Rossi, proprietor of the Hotel Subasio at Assisi, whose intimate knowledge of his native town has been of great service to me.

L. D. G.

Poggio Gherardo ,
Florence , October 1900.

The Story of Assisi

CHAPTER I

War and Strife

"C'tait le temps des guerres sans piti et des inimitis mortelles." H. Taine. Voyage en Italie.Perouse et Assise.

A ll who ascend the hill of the Seraphic City must feel its indescribable charmintangible, mysterious, and quite distinct from the beauty of the Umbrian valley. "Why," we ask ourselves, "this stillness and sense of marvellous peace in every church and every street?" And, as though conscious of our thoughts, a young Assisan, with a gesture of infinite sadness towards the large, desolate palaces and broad deserted streets, said, as we lingered on our way: "Ah! Signore mie, our city is a city of the deadof memories only." As he spoke a long procession of a grey-clothed confraternity, bearing on their breasts the franciscan badge, preceded by a priest who walked beneath a baldachino, streamed out of a small church. Slowly they passed down the road, and then the priest turned into a wayside cottage where lay a dying woman, while the others waited outside under the olive trees. But the sound of their chanting and the tinkling of the small bell came to us as we leaned over the city walls. Of a truth we felt the religious life of the town was not dead: perchance, down those streets, now so still, men had passed along to battle during the sad turmoil of the middle ages, had hated and loved as well as prayed, with all the fervour of their southern nature. We must turn to the early chroniclers to find in their fascinating pages that Assisi has had her passionate past and her hours of deepest trial.