CLOUDS.
"For gold must be tried by fire,
As a heart must be tried by pain."
It seems a rather strange turn of events that put Elias in the place
of the gentle, devout, Peter Cantani. No one could doubt Elias'
efficiency. That was beyond all question, but that he had a proud,
self-willed spirit was also indisputable. Francis' mind at first
turned towards Bernardo di Quintavelle as Peter's successor. He always
had a peculiar love for this, his first son. But though Bernardo had
risen to considerable importance in the Order, yet for some time he
had been harassed with interior temptations, and had been subject to
great darkness. Though Francis was not troubled very much by this
experience of Bernardo's, saying "It is a trial, he will come out of
it, and be the greater for it afterwards," yet he did not think it
wise to put him in any new position of authority, as his own trials
would not leave him quite free for his work. So Bernardo was passed
over, and Elias filled the vacant Vicar Generalship.
Elias' Government was active. Splendid order reigned in all the
communities. He was unequalled for clearness of business views, and
his preaching was greatly sought after.
Some historians say that with all Francis' gifts of perception he
never until it was too late saw into Elias' character, and that the
pride and self-will which were so evident to others were hidden to
him. Elias loved show and external greatness rather than interior
goodness and holiness. He loved Francis, but he thought he was far
more capable of filling the Vicar Generalship than he. He regarded
Francis as one to be admired, not imitated. It is quite certain that
if Francis had had the faintest idea that the Order would suffer
through Elias, he never would have elected him.
[Sidenote: _Germany Again._]
Elias entered his new appointment in a blaze of glory. He had come
from the Minister Generalship of Tuscany, the most important post in
the Order, which he had managed in a very skilful manner. Then another
event had just happened which added to the lustre of his reputation. A
celebrated German preacher, Cesar of Spiers, had attended his
preachings and entered the Order. Elias was installed at the next
Chapter before five thousand brethren. It was at this Chapter, that on
the seventh day they had to beg of the people not to bring them any
more food, and even then they had to prolong the Chapter two days, in
order to eat up all the provisions that had been donated! Elias
presided at the last sitting, which was the one when the brethren
received their appointments. We have told you how unfortunate the
first German expedition had been and how the poor brethren returned
more dead than alive with fright. Well, during the course of this last
sitting, Francis felt impressed that they ought to make another
attempt for the salvation of Germany. As he was not very well that
day, and unable to make himself heard, he pulled Elias by the tunic,
and whispered to him aside. Elias stood up and said--
"My brethren, this is what the Brother tells me," they always called
Francis "The Brother." "There is a country, Germany, whose inhabitants
are Christians, and full of devotion. You have often seen them passing
through our country walking in the sunshine with long sticks and great
boots, singing the praises of God. Several of our brethren have
already been amongst them. They did not succeed, and had to come back.
Now I compel none of you to undertake this mission again, but if
anyone is sufficiently filled with zeal for the glory of God and the
salvation of souls to venture upon it they can give in their names."
[Sidenote: _An Unwilling Volunteer._]
A wave of horror ran through the assembly, for no mission was more
dreaded, but very soon they recovered themselves, and about ninety
gave in their names, several of whom were of German origin. Among this
last number was Cesar of Spiers, who was appointed Minister for
Germany. A rather amusing incident occurred in connection with this
expedition.
The ninety volunteers were all told to come out of the ranks, and
stand together till those who were to go were chosen. As they stood
waiting there a certain brother called Giordano, who was one of those
most scared at the idea of a mission to Germany, and had taken good
care not to volunteer, thought he would go and have a look at them.
Giordano had a spirit of investigation that would have led him into
the ranks of journalism had he lived only a few centuries later!
"They will certainly die," he said to himself, "and it will be as with
the martyrs of Morocco. I shall not even have known them by name."
With that he took himself off on an unauthorized interviewing tour,
and accosting each one he said,
"Who are you? What is your country?" Then, as he told himself, when he
heard of their martyrdom, he could say, "Oh, I knew this one, and the
other one." It was not a very lofty object, but it was an exceeding
natural one.
In time his investigations brought him to a brother who was a bit of a
wag, and who, unluckily for Giordano, knew of his horror of Germany.
"I am called Palmerio, and I come from Gargano," he replied meekly,
when questioned, "but, my brother," he continued, "you are one of us,
you are going too."
"No, no, I am not," cried Giordano. "I only want to know you."
"Oh, but you are," insisted Palmerio, and taking him by the shoulders,
he held him amongst the volunteers. Giordano was still struggling for
liberty when Cesar was appointed Minister, and told to choose those
out of the ninety whom he would like to have with him. Several of the
brethren who had entered into the joke with Palmerio surrounded him,
and begged him not to leave out brother Giordano.
[Sidenote: _To go, or not to go._]
"I'm not going. I'm not going," cried Giordano.
Cesar looked at him, and seeing he was a suitable candidate, was
inclined to have him. He, knowing that his countrymen were neither
savages nor man-eaters, and that there was not the slightest danger to
fear, was rather at a loss to understand the fuss.
"Will you or will you not go to Germany? You must decide," he said to
Giordano.
This threw Giordano into great perplexity. If he did not go to
Germany, he feared his conscience would condemn him, seeing that he
was chosen, and if he went, the Germans were ferocious, and he _knew_
he would not make a good martyr! He consulted a Brother who had been
robbed fifteen times during the last Hungarian mission.
"In your place," advised the man, "I should not choose. I would say I
shall neither go nor stay. I will do as you say."
Giordano followed this advice, and was chosen for Germany! He got the
better of his fears and worked bravely, and his journalistic talents
were used in compiling a valuable chronicle, which tells how the
Minors were established in Germany.
The next most important event in the history of the Order was the
establishment of a school for theology and training. This was begun by
Anthony, whom you will remember best under the name of Fernandez, and
who was led into the Order by the death of the five Morocco martyrs.
He was not only deeply religious, but very learned. Upon hearing him
preach one Easter, some of the brethren who were present got the idea
that a school was needed in the Order, and that Anthony would make a
splendid head. They laid this plan before Elias, who highly approved
of it, and undertook to present it to Francis. To convince Francis was
quite another matter, and for some time he would not hear of it. But
Elias was a clever reasoner, and he got Francis at last to listen to
the plans. Still he hesitated. His ideal had always been Apostolic
preaching, and he dreaded any change in his beloved Order. At last he
gave in, and wrote his consent to Anthony thus--
[Sidenote: _A Definite Rule._]
"I consent to your teaching holy theology to our brethren, on
condition that such teaching does not stifle the spirit of prayer,
either in yourself or others. I hold firmly to this point, for it is
our rule."
Whether this step was a good or bad one, we cannot say. We only know
that under Anthony no harm came of it, but rather good. With all his
brilliancy and keenness of intellect, and in spite of the way men ran
after him and honoured him, he still kept his simple faith and humble
spirit.
After the Chapter we have already described, Francis took a tour with
Elias into his late province, Tuscany, and then, on his return, he set
himself down to compile a definite and comprehensive rule for the
benefit of posterity, and to which future generations would be able to
refer. Probably the laxities of Elias, which were beginning to make
themselves manifest, strengthened Francis in his determination to
leave his articles of faith behind him in such tangible form that
there could be no questioning the principle and line of action. Elias'
influence was being felt all round. The devotion to poverty was not
what it once was, and the love of authority and office was doing its
deadly poisonous work in the hearts of some. Francis' decision to draw
up a definite rule was far from agreeable to Elias and his set.
Nevertheless, it was done. Taking with him Leo and Bonizio, Francis
went off to a hermitage, and there he dictated the new rule. On his
return to Assisi he gave it to Elias to read, telling him to take care
of it. When Elias read it, he found that it entirely did away with
many of his most cherished plans, so a few days later, when Francis
asked him for the rule again, he said that he had lost it. Francis
answered never a word. He returned to the same solitude with the same
companions, and dictated the Rule a second time. This Rule has been
handed down to us intact. It is very largely an application of those
first verses of the Gospel which were to Francis his call to his
life-work. It is remarkable for its clearness. If any Brother
transgressed this Rule, he did it with his eyes open, and knew what he
was doing too. There is no sign of any laxity in it. As Francis
advanced in years, he became more and more strongly attached to that
simplicity of faith and work which was the light of all his life.
At the next Chapter a copy of the Rule was given to all the Brethren.
They were told to carry it about with them always, and learn it by
heart, and repeat it often to themselves.
[Sidenote: _Keeping Christmas._]
It was drawing near Christmas time when this Rule was finally passed
by the Church, and as Francis was in Rome just then he determined to
put in practice an idea which long had been simmering in his brain. It
was an innovation, but then he was convinced that it would make men
think more deeply of the Holy Baby that was born to bring peace and
goodwill to earth. Accordingly, he sent the following message to a
nobleman named John, who was devotedly attached to Francis:--
"I wish to keep Christmas night with you, and, if you agree, this is
how we will celebrate it. You will choose a place in your woods, a
grotto if there is one, you will put in it a manger and hay: there
must be an ox and an ass also. It must as much as possible be like the
manger at Bethlehem."
All was prepared, and when Christmas night came an immense multitude,
carrying torches and lighted tapers, poured through the dark, midnight
woods to the grotto. The Brethren sang carols as they came, and these
were caught up by the people till the forest resounded again and
again. Francis himself led this mighty procession to the manger, and
there, standing at its head, the oxen and asses pressing close beside
him, and the flaring torches lighting up the whole with an unearthly
lurid light, he preached to them about the meek and lowly Jesus, Who
came to earth to be despised, persecuted, and put to death. It was a
time of much blessing, and that night saw a dawning of "peace and
goodwill" in souls once darkened and lifeless.
[Sidenote: _A Great Task._]
But all this time, ever since he returned from Egypt, Francis' health
was slowly but surely failing. Weak and ill, and with the lurking fear
that the principles of the Order were being undermined, his last two
years of life were anything but peaceful ones. Not that there was
anything done openly--that was the misery of it; an open, bold
innovation could have been taken hold of and dealt with, but Elias was
far too politic and clever to do anything that might lead to his being
put out of office. Any question of departure from the rules that came
up, he always blamed on the Provincial Ministers, and professed to be
as grieved over their failure as Francis himself though secretly he
supported them. He carefully gave all the truest Franciscans
appointments far away from Assisi and Francis, and kept those of his
own mind near home. This was not a bad thing for the ultimate success
of the Order, because it preserved the real spirit abroad, and when
Bernardo di Quintavelle stepped into Elias' place, ultimately, he had
all his foes close to hand round home, where the Franciscan principles
had taken deepest root.
It was hard for Francis when one after another of his faithful
followers came to him, and with tears reproached him for having given
them into the hands of another. When they at last took in the fact
that though the spirit might be willing, the flesh was too weak to do
what it had once been able to do, their sorrow knew no bounds. Some of
them were almost a little selfish in their grief.
"You will pass away," said one. "Your family will remain in the valley
of tears. Who can take charge and direct it after you? If you know of
one on whom your mind can rest, I conjure you to tell me."
"My son," said Francis, with tears, "I see no one around me equal to
this task of being shepherd to so great a flock."
[Sidenote: _Foes._]
Thus, tortured by bodily pain and weakness, and tormented by unseen
foes and enemies of all that he counted dearest and most sacred, he
entered upon the two last dark years, which were his Valley of the
Shadow before the Eternal Sun rose, never to set again.
God of my life, through all my days
My grateful powers shall sound Thy praise,
My song shall wake with opening light,
And cheer the dark and silent night.
When anxious cares would break my rest,
And griefs would tear my throbbing breast,
Thy tuneful praises, raised on high,
Shall check the murmur and the sigh.
When death o'er nature shall prevail,
And all the powers of language fail,
Joy through my swimming eyes shall break
And mean the thanks I cannot speak.
But oh, when that last conflict's o'er,
And I am chained to earth no more,
With what glad accents shall I rise
To join the music of the skies!
The cheerful tribute will I give
Long as a deathless soul shall live;
A work so sweet, a theme so high,
Demands and crowns eternity!