Americans -- Europe -- History -- 20th century; Dreiser, Theodore, 1871-1945 -- Travel -- Europe; Europe -- Description and travel
I wonder if there is any one who can read this without a thrill of
response. This world sets such store by wealth and comfort. We all
batten on luxury so far as our means will permit,--many of us wallow
in it; and the thought of a man who could write such a prayer as that,
and live it, made my hair tingle to the roots. I can understand Pope
Innocent III’s saying that the rule offered by St. Francis and his
disciples to ordinary mortals was too severe, but I can also conceive
the poetic enthusiasm of a St. Francis. I found myself on the instant
in the deepest accord with him, understanding how it was that he
wanted his followers not to wear a habit, and to work in the fields
as day-laborers, begging only when they could not earn their way. The
fact that he and his disciples had lived in reed huts on the site of
Santa Maria degli Angeli, the great church which stands in the valley
near the station, far down from the town, and had practised the utmost
austerity, came upon me as a bit of imaginative poetry of the highest
sort. Before the rumbling bus arrived, which conveyed me and several
others to the little hotel, I was thrilling with enthusiasm for this
religious fact, and anything that concerned him interested me.
In some ways Assisi was a disappointment because I expected something
more than bare picturesqueness; it is very old and I fancy, as modern
Italy goes, very poor. The walls of the houses are for the most part
built of dull gray stone. The streets climbed up hill and down dale,
hard, winding, narrow, stony affairs, lined right to the roadway by
these bare, inhospitable-looking houses. No yards, no gardens--at least
none visible from the streets, but, between walls, and down street
stairways, and between odd angles of buildings the loveliest vistas
of the valley below, where were spread great orchards of olive trees,
occasional small groups of houses, distant churches and the mountains
on the other side of the valley. Quite suited to the self-abnegating
spirit of St. Francis, I thought,--and I wondered if the town had
changed greatly since his day--1182!
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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