BAREFOOTED in the snow, bareheaded in the rain, Saint Francis wandered
up and down the world smiling for the great love that was in his heart.
And because it grew from love the smile of Saint Francis was a wonderful
thing. It opened the hearts of men and coaxed the secrets of their
thoughts. It led human folk whithersoever Saint Francis willed. It drew
the beasts to his side and the birds to nestle in his bosom. It was like
a magic charm.
Great princes knew his smile and they obeyed its command to be generous
and good. The sick and sorrowful knew his smile. It meant healing and
comfort. Then they rose and blessed God in the name of Saint Francis.
The wretched beggars in the streets of Assisi knew it. To them the smile
of "the Lord's own beggar" meant help and sympathy. Like them he was
poor and homeless, often ill and hungry. They wondered that he could
smile. But he said, "It does not become a servant of God to have an air
of melancholy and a face full of trouble." So they also tried to smile,
poor fellows. But how different it was!
The little lambs to whom he gave his special protection and care knew
the smile of Saint Francis. Once he met two woolly lambkins who were
being carried to market. He never had any money, but taking off his
cloak, which was all he had to part with, he gave it to buy their lives.
And he carried the lambs home in his bosom.
The wilder beasts beyond the mountains, the fierce wolves and shy foxes
of Syria and Spain whom he met in his wanderings knew Saint Francis.
Here was a brother who was not afraid of them and whom they could trust
in return, a brother who understood and sympathized. The birds in the
trees knew also, and his coming was the signal of peace. Then they sang
with Francis, but he was the sweetest singer of them all.
Besides these living things the green fields of Italy, the trees, the
meadows, the brooks, the flowers all knew the smile of Saint Francis. It
meant to them many things which only a poet can tell. But Francis
understood, for he was a poet.
Upon all alike his face of love beamed tenderly. For Saint Francis of
Assisi was a little brother of the whole great world and of all created
things. Not only did his heart warm to Brother Sheep and Sister Bees, to
his Brother Fish and his little Sisters the Doves, but he called the Sun
and Wind his brothers and the Moon and Water his sisters. Of all the
saints about whom the legends tell, Francis was the gentlest and most
loving. And if
"He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small,"
the prayers of Saint Francis must have been very dear to Him who "made
and loveth all."
* * * * *
There was none so poor as Francis. Not a penny did he have, not a penny
would he touch. Let them be given to those who could not smile, he said.
His food he begged from door to door, broken crusts for a single poor
meal; more he would not take. His sleeping place was the floor or the
haymow, the ruined church, whatever lodging chance gave him. Oftenest
he slept upon the bare ground with a stone for his pillow. He wanted to
be poor because Christ was poor, and he was trying to live like his
Master.
In his coarse brown gown, tied about the waist with a rope, without hat
or shoes he wandered singing, smiling. The love which beamed from him
like radiance from a star shone back from every pair of eyes which
looked into his own. For all the world loved Francis in the time of the
Crusades. And even to-day, seven hundred years since that dear beggar
passed cheerily up and down the rough Italian roads,--even to-day there
are many who love him like a lost elder brother.
Saint Francis preached to all lessons of charity and peace. His were
simple words, for he had not the wisdom of many books. But he knew the
book of the human heart from cover to cover. His words were like fire,
they warmed and wakened. No one could resist the entreaty and the love
that was in them. So thousands joined the Society of Little Brothers of
which he was the founder, and became his helpers in works of charity and
holiness.
His church was out of doors in the beautiful world that he loved, in
mountain, field, or forest, wherever he happened to be wandering.
Sometimes he preached by the candle-light of stars. Often the
cloistering trees along the roadside made his chapel, and the blue sky
was the only roof between him and heaven. Often his choir was of the
brother birds in the branches and his congregation a group of brother
beasts. For he preached to them also who, though they spoke a different
language, were yet children of his Father. And in his little talks to
them he always showed the courtesy which one brother owes another.
Once, on returning from a journey beyond the sea, he was traveling
through the Venetian country, when he heard a great congregation of
birds singing among the bushes. And he said to his companion, "Our
sisters, the birds, are praising their Maker. Let us then go into their
midst and sing." So they did this, and the birds did not fly away but
continued to sing so loudly that the brothers could not hear each other.
Then Saint Francis turned to the birds and said politely, "Sisters,
cease your song until we have rendered our bounden praise to God." So
the birds were still until the brothers had finished their psalm. But
after that when it was again their turn the birds went on with their
song.
* * * * *
At another time when he was preaching in the town of Alvia among the
hills, the swallows flew about and twittered so loudly that the people
could not hear Saint Francis' voice. The birds did not mean to be rude,
however. So he turned to the swallows and saluted them courteously. "My
sisters," he said, "it is now time that I should speak. Since you have
had your say, listen now in your turn to the word of God and be silent
till the sermon is finished." And again the birds obeyed the smile and
the voice of him who loved them. Though whether they understood the
grown-up sermon that followed, I cannot tell.
But this is the little sermon which he made one day for a congregation
of birds who sat around him in the bushes listening.
"Brother Birds, greatly are ye bound to praise the Creator who clotheth
you with feathers and giveth you wings to fly with and a purer air to
breathe; and who careth for you who have so little care for yourselves."
It was not a long sermon, so the birds could not have grown tired or
sleepy, and I am sure they understood every word. So after he had given
them his blessing he let them go, and they went singing as he had bidden
them.
* * * * *
Saint Francis preached the lessons of peace; he would not have cruelty
or bloodshed among his human friends. And he also taught his beasts to
be kind. He loved best the gentle lambs, one of which was almost always
with him, and in his sermons he would point to them to show men what
their lives should be. But there is a story told of the lesson he taught
a wolf that shows what power the Saint had over the fiercer animals.
There are many stories of wolves whom the saints made tame. But this
wolf of Saint Francis was the most terrible of them all.
This huge and savage wolf had been causing great horror to the people
of Gubbio. For in the night he not only stole sheep and cows from the
farms, but he came and carried off men also for his dinner. So that
people were afraid to go out of the town for fear of being gobbled up.
Now Saint Francis came. And he said, "I will go out and seek this wolf."
But the townsfolk begged him not to go, for the good man was dear to
them and they feared never to see him again. However, he was resolved
and went forth from the gate.
He had gone but a little way when out rushed the wolf to meet him, with
his mouth wide open, roaring horribly. Then Saint Francis made the sign
of the cross and said gently:--
"Come hither, Brother Wolf. I command thee in Christ's behalf that thou
do no evil to me nor to any one." And wonderful to say! The wolf grew
tame and came like a lamb to lie at Saint Francis' feet.
Then Francis went on to rebuke him, saying that he deserved to be hung
for his many sins, being a robber and a wicked murderer of men and
beasts.
"But I wish, Brother Wolf," he said, "to make peace between thee and
men; therefore vex them no more and they will pardon thee all thy past
offenses, and neither dogs nor men will chase thee any more."
At this the wolf wagged his tail and bowed his head to show he
understood. And putting his right paw in the hand of Saint Francis he
promised never again to steal nor slay. Then like a gentle dog he
followed the holy man to the market-place of the town, where great
crowds of people had gathered to see what Saint Francis would do with
the great beast, their enemy, for they thought he was to be punished.
But Francis rose and said to them:--
"Hearken, dear brethren: Brother Wolf who is here before you has
promised me that he will make peace with you and will never injure you
in any way, if ye promise to give him day by day what is needful for his
dinner. And I will be surety for him." Thereupon with a great shout all
the people promised to give him his daily food. Again the wolf wagged
his tail, flapped his long ears, bowed his head, and gave his paw to
Saint Francis to show that he would keep his word. All the people saw
him do this. And then there were shouts of wonder you may be sure, and
great rejoicing because Saint Francis had saved them from this cruel
beast, and had made a gentle friend of their dreaded enemy.
So after this the wolf lived two years at Gubbio and went about from
door to door humbly begging his food like Saint Francis himself. He
never harmed any one, not even the little children who teased and pulled
him about. But all the people loved him and gave him what he liked to
eat; and not even a dog would bark at his heels or growl at the friend
of Saint Francis. So he lived to a good old age. And when after two
years Brother Wolf died because he was so old, the citizens were very
sorrowful. For not only did they miss the soft pat-pat of his steps
passing through the city, but they grieved for the sorrow of Saint
Francis in losing a kindly friend,--Saint Francis of whose saintliness
and power the humble beast had been a daily reminder.
* * * * *
Francis could not bear to see a little brother in trouble or pain, and
this the beasts knew very well. He would not willingly tread upon an
insect, but would step aside and gently bid the Brother Worm depart in
peace. The fish which a fisherman gave him he restored to the water,
where it played about his boat and would not leave him till he bade it
go.
Once again in the village of Gubbio a live baby hare was brought him as
a present, for his breakfast. But when Francis saw the frightened look
of the little creature held in the arms of one of the brothers, his
heart ached with sympathy.
"Little Brother Leveret, come to me," he said. "Why hast thou let
thyself be taken?" And the little fellow as if understanding the
invitation jumped out of the friar's arms and ran to Francis, hiding in
the folds of his gown. But when Francis took it out and set it free,
very politely giving it permission to depart instead of staying to make
a breakfast, it would not go. Again and again it returned nestling to
its new-found friend, as if guessing that here at least it would be safe
forever. But at last tenderly Saint Francis sent the good brother away
with it into the wood, where it was safe once more among its little
bob-tailed brothers and sisters.
* * * * *
Now after a life spent like Christ's in works of poverty, charity, and
love, Saint Francis came at last to have one spot in the world which he
could call his own. It was neither a church nor a convent, a cottage nor
even a cell. It was only a bare and lonely mountain top where wild
beasts lived and wild birds had a home. This retreat in the wilderness
was the gift which Orlando, a rich nobleman, chose to make Saint
Francis. And it was a precious gift indeed, sorely needed by the Lord's
weary beggar. For he was worn with wandering; he was ill and weak, and
his gentle eyes were growing dim so that he could not go along the
winding ways. But he was happy still.
[Illustration: SAINT FRANCIS OF ASSISI]
So one warm September day he went with some of his chosen brethren to
take possession of their new home. They left the villages, the farms,
and at last even the scattered shepherds' huts far below and behind
them, and came into the quiet of the Italian hills. They climbed and
climbed over the rocks and along the ravines, till they came in sight of
the bald summit where Francis was to dwell. And here in happy weariness
he paused to rest under an oak-tree and look about upon the beautiful
scene.
But suddenly the air was filled with music, a chorus of trills and
quavers and carols of the wildest joy. Then the air grew dark with
whirring wings. The birds of the mountain were coming from everywhere to
welcome home their brother. They flew to him by hundreds, perching on
his head and shoulders; and when every other spot was covered they
twittered into the hood of his brown mantle. The brothers stood about,
wondering greatly, although they had seen Saint Francis in some such
plight before. But the peasant who led the ass which had brought Saint
Francis so far stood like one turned to stone, unable to believe his
eyes. Here was a miracle the like of which he had never dreamed.
But Saint Francis was filled with gladness. "Dearest brethren," he said,
"I think it must be pleasant to our Lord that we should dwell in this
solitary place, since our brothers and sisters the birds are so glad of
our coming."
And indeed, how could they help being glad of his coming, the dear, kind
Saint? And how they hovered around the shelter of branches which the
brethren built for him under a beech-tree on the very mountain top! One
can picture them at morning, noon, and night joining in his songs of
praise, or keeping polite silence while the holy man talked with God.
Many wonderful things happened upon the Monte Alverno while Saint
Francis dwelt there. But none were more wonderful than the great love of
Francis himself; his love which was so big and so wide that it wrapped
the whole round world, binding all creatures more closely in a common
brotherhood.
So that every man and every bird and every beast that lives ought to
love the name of that dear Saint, their childlike, simple, happy little
brother, Saint Francis of Assisi.
HERE
THE BOOK OF SAINTS
& FRIENDLY BEASTS
ENDS