FRANCIS COEUR-DE-LION
(_St. Francis of Assisi_) A.D. 1181-1226 (Date of Incident, 1219)
I
The dark blue sky of an Italian night was studded with sparkling stars
that seemed to be twinkling with laughter at the pranks of a lively
group of gay young fellows as they came out from a house half-way up
the steep street of the little city of Assisi.
As they strayed together down the street they sang the love-songs of
their country and then a rich, strong voice rang out singing a song in
French.
"That is Francis Bernardone," one neighbour would say to another,
nodding his head, for Francis could sing, not only in his native
Italian, but also in French.
"He lives like a prince; yet he is but the son of a cloth
merchant,--rich though the merchant be."
So the neighbours, we are told, were always grumbling about Francis,
the wild spendthrift. For young Francis dressed in silk and always in
the latest fashion; he threw his pocket-money about with a free hand.
He loved beautiful things. He was very sensitive. He would ride a long
way round to avoid seeing the dreadful face of a poor leper, and would
hold his nose in his cloak as he passed the place where the lepers
lived.
He was handsome in face, gallant in bearing, idle and careless; a
jolly companion, with beautiful courtly manners. His dark chestnut
hair curled over his smooth, rather small forehead. His black
twinkling eyes looked out under level brows; his nose was straight and
finely shaped.
When he laughed he showed even, white, closely set teeth between
thin and sensitive lips. He wore a short, black beard. His arms were
shortish; his fingers long and sensitive. He was lightly built; his
skin was delicate.
He was witty, and his voice when he spoke was powerful and sonorous,
yet sweet-toned and very clear.
For him to be the son of a merchant seemed to the gossips of Assisi
all wrong--as though a grey goose had hatched out a gorgeous peacock.
The song of the revellers passed down the street and died away. The
little city of Assisi slept in quietness on the slopes of the Apennine
Mountains under the dark clear sky.
A few nights later, however, no song of any revellers was heard.
Francis Bernardone was very ill with a fever. For week after week his
mother nursed him; and each night hardly believed that her son would
live to see the light of the next morning. When at last the fever left
him, he was so feeble that for weeks he could not rise from his bed.
Gradually, however, he got better: as he did so the thing that he
desired most of all in the world was to see the lovely country around
Assisi;--the mountains, the Umbrian Plain beneath, the blue skies, the
dainty flowers.
At last one day, with aching limbs and in great feebleness, he crept
out of doors. There were the great Apennine Mountains on the side of
which his city of Assisi was built. There were the grand rocky peaks
pointing to the intense blue sky. There was the steep street with the
houses built of stone of a strange, delicate pink colour, as though
the light of dawn were always on them. There were the dark green olive
trees, and the lovely tendrils of the vines. The gay Italian flowers
were blooming.
Stretching away in the distance was one of the most beautiful
landscapes of the world; the broad Umbrian Plain with its browns and
greens melting in the distance into a bluish haze that softened the
lines of the distant hills.
How he had looked forward to seeing it all, to being in the sunshine,
to feeling the breeze on his hot brow! But what--he wondered--had
happened to him? He looked at it all, but he felt no joy. It all
seemed dead and empty. He turned his back on it and crawled indoors
again, sad and sick at heart. He was sure that he would never feel
again "the wild joys of living."
As Francis went back to his bed he began to think what he should do
with the rest of his life. He made up his mind not to waste it any
longer: but he did not see clearly what he should do with it.
A short time after Francis begged a young nobleman of Assisi, who
was just starting to fight in a war, if he might go with him. The
nobleman--Walter of Brienne, agreed: so Francis bought splendid
trappings for his horse, and a shield, sword and spear. His armour and
his horse's harness were more splendid than even those of Walter. So
they went clattering together out of Assisi.
But he had not gone thirty miles before he was smitten again by fever.
After sunset one evening he lay dreamily on his bed when he seemed to
hear a voice.
"Francis," it asked, "what could benefit thee most, the master or the
servant, the rich man or the poor?"
"The master and the rich man," answered Francis in surprise.
"Why then," went on the voice, "dost thou leave God, Who is the Master
and rich, for man, who is the servant and poor?"
"Then, Lord, what will Thou that I do?" asked Francis.
"Return to thy native town, and it shall be shown thee there what thou
shall do," said the voice.
He obediently rose and went back to Assisi. He tried to join again in
the old revels, but the joy was gone. He went quietly away to a cave
on the mountain side and there he lay--as young Mahomet had done, you
remember, five centuries before, to wonder what he was to do.
Then a vision came to him. All at once like a flash his mind was
clear, and his soul was full of joy. He saw the love of Jesus
Christ--Who had lived and suffered and died for love of him and of
all men;--that love was to rule his own life! He had found his
Captain--the Master of his life, the Lord of his service,--Christ.
Yet even now he hardly knew what to do. He went home and told his
friends as well as he could of the change in his heart.
Some smiled rather pityingly and went away saying to one another:
"Poor fellow; a little mad, you can see; very sad for his parents!"
Others simply laughed and mocked.
One day, very lonely and sad at heart, he clambered up the mountain
side to an old church just falling into ruin near which, in a cavern,
lived a priest. He went into the ruin and fell on his knees.
"Francis," a voice in his soul seemed to say, "dost thou see my house
going to ruin. Buckle to and repair it."
He dashed home, saddled his horse, loaded it with rich garments and
rode off to another town to sell the goods. He sold the horse too;
trudged back up the hill and gave the fat purse to the priest.
"No," said the priest, "I dare not take it unless your father says I
may."
But his father, who had got rumour of what was going on, came with a
band of friends to drag Francis home. Francis fled through the woods
to a secret cave, where he lay hidden till at last he made up his mind
to face all. He came out and walked straight towards home. Soon the
townsmen of Assisi caught sight of him.
"A madman," they yelled, throwing stones and sticks at him. All the
boys of Assisi came out and hooted and threw pebbles.
His father heard the riot and rushed out to join in the fun. Imagine
his horror when he found that it was his own son. He yelled with
rage, dashed at him and, clutching him by the robe, dragged him along,
beating and cursing him. When he got him home he locked him up. But
some days later Francis' mother let him out, when his father was
absent; and Francis climbed the hill to the Church.
The bishop called in Francis and his father to his court to settle the
quarrel.
"You must give back to your father all that you have," said he.
"I will," replied Francis.
He took off all his rich garments; and, clad only in a hair-vest, he
put the clothes and the purse of money at his father's feet.
"Now," he cried, "I have but one father. Henceforth I can say in all
truth 'Our Father Who art in heaven.'"
A peasant's cloak was given to Francis. He went thus, without home
or any money, a wanderer. He went to a monastery and slaved in the
kitchen. A friend gave him a tunic, some shoes, and a stick. He went
out wandering in Italy again. He loved everybody; he owned nothing; he
wanted everyone to know the love of Jesus as he knew and enjoyed that
love.
There came to Francis many adventures. He was full of joy; he sang
even to the birds in the woods. Many men joined him as his disciples
in the way of obedience, of poverty, and of love. Men in Italy, in
Spain, in Germany and in Britain caught fire from the flame of his
simple love and careless courage. Never had Europe seen so clear a
vision of the love of Jesus. His followers were called the Lesser
Brothers (Friars Minor).
All who can should read the story of Francis' life: as for us we are
here going simply to listen to what happened to him on a strange and
perilous adventure.
II
About this time people all over Europe were agog with excitement about
the Crusades. Four Crusades had come and gone. Richard Coeur-de-Lion
was dead. But the passion for fighting against the Saracen was still
in the hearts of men.
"The tomb of our Lord in Jerusalem is in the hands of the Saracen,"
the cry went up over all Europe. "Followers of Jesus Christ are slain
by the scimitars of Islam. Let us go and wrest the Holy City from the
hands of the Saracen."
There was also the danger to Europe itself. The Mohammedans ruled in
Spain as well as in North Africa, in Egypt and in the Holy Land.
So rich men sold their lands to buy horses and armour and to fit
themselves and their foot soldiers for the fray. Poor men came armed
with pike and helmet and leather jerkin. The knights wore a blood-red
cross on their white tunics. In thousands upon thousands, with John
of Brienne as their Commander-in-Chief (the brother of that Walter of
Brienne with whom, you remember, Francis had started for the wars as
a knight), they sailed the Mediterranean to fight for the Cross in
Egypt.
They attacked Egypt because the Sultan there ruled over Jerusalem and
they hoped by defeating him to free Jerusalem at the same time.
As Francis saw the knights going off to the Crusades in shining armour
with the trappings of their horses all a-glitter and a-jingle, and as
he thought of the lands where the people worshipped--not the God and
Father of our Lord Jesus Christ--but the "Sultan in the Sky," the
Allah of Mahomet, his spirit caught fire within him.
Francis had been a soldier and a knight only a few years before. He
could not but feel the stir of the Holy War in his veins,--the tingle
of the desire to be in it. He heard the stories of the daring of the
Crusaders; he heard of a great victory over the Saracens.
Francis, indeed, wanted Jesus Christ to conquer men more than he
wanted anything on earth; but he knew that men are only conquered by
Jesus Christ if their hearts are changed by Him.
"Even if the Saracens are put to the sword and overwhelmed, still they
are not saved," he said to himself.
As he thought these things he felt sure that he heard them calling to
him (as the Man from Macedonia had called to St. Paul)--"Come over and
help us." St. Paul had brought the story of Jesus Christ to Europe;
and had suffered prison and scourging and at last death by the
executioner's sword in doing it; must not Francis be ready to take the
same message back again from Europe to the Near East and to suffer for
it?
"I will go," he said, "but to save the Saracens, not to slay them."
He was not going out to fight, yet he had in his heart a plan that
needed him to be braver and more full of resource than any warrior
in the armies of the Crusades. He was as much a Lion-hearted hero
as Richard Coeur-de-Lion himself, and was far wiser and indeed more
powerful.
So he took a close friend, Brother Illuminato, with him and they
sailed away together over the seas. They sailed from Italy with Walter
of Brienne, with one of the Crusading contingents in many ships.
Southeast they voyaged over the blue waters of the Mediterranean Sea.
Francis talked with the Crusaders on board; and much that they said
and did made him very sad. They squabbled with one another.
The knights were arrogant and sneered at the foot soldiers; the
men-at-arms did not trust the knights. They had the Cross on their
armour; but few of them had in their hearts the spirit of Jesus who
was nailed to the Cross.
At last the long, yellow coast-line of Egypt was sighted. Behind it
lay the minarets and white roofs of a city. They were come to the
eastern mouth of the Nile, on which stood the proud city of Damietta.
The hot rays of the sun smote down upon the army of the Crusaders as
they landed. The sky and the sea were of an intense blue; the sand and
the sun glared at one another.
Francis would just be able to hear at dawn the cry of the muezzin from
the minarets of Damietta, "Come to prayer: there is no God but Allah
and Mahomet is his prophet. Come to prayer. Prayer is better than
sleep."
John of Brienne began to muster his men in battle array to attack the
Sultan of Egypt, Malek-Kamel, a name which means "the Perfect Prince."
Francis, however, was quite certain that the attempt would be a
ghastly failure. He hardly knew what to do. So he talked it over with
his friend, Brother Illuminato.
"I know they will be defeated in this attempt," he said. "But if I
tell them so they will treat me as a madman. On the other hand, if
I do not tell them, then my conscience will condemn me. What do you
think I ought to do?"
"My brother," said Illuminate, "what does the judgment of the world
matter to you? If they say you are mad it will not be the first time!"
Francis, therefore, went to the Crusaders and warned them. They
laughed scornfully. The order for advance was given. The Crusaders
charged into battle. Francis was in anguish--tears filled his eyes.
The Saracens came out and fell upon the Christian soldiers and
slaughtered them. Over 6000 of them either fell under the scimitar or
were taken prisoner. The Crusaders were defeated.
Francis' mind was now fully made up. He went to a Cardinal, who
represented the Pope, with the Crusading Army to ask his leave to go
and preach to the Sultan of Egypt.
"No," said the Cardinal, "I cannot give you leave to go. I know full
well that you would never escape to come back alive. The Sultan of
Egypt has offered a reward of gold to any man who will bring to him
the head of a Christian. That will be your fate."
"Do suffer us to go, we do not fear death," pleaded Francis and
Illuminato, again and again.
"I do not know what is in your minds in this," said the Cardinal, "but
beware--if you go--that your thoughts are always to God."
"We only wish to go for great good, if we can work it," replied
Francis.
"Then if you wish it so much," the Cardinal at last agreed, "you may
go."
So Francis and Illuminato girded their loins and tightened their
sandals and set away from the Crusading Army towards the very camp of
the enemy.
As he walked Francis sang with his full, loud, clear voice. These were
the words that he sang:
Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will
fear no evil; for thou art with me; Thy rod and thy staff, they
comfort me.
As they walked along over the sandy waste they saw two small sheep
nibbling the sparse grass growing near the Nile.
"Be of good cheer," said Francis to Illuminato, smiling, "it is the
fulfilling of the Gospel words 'Behold I send you as sheep in the
midst of wolves.'"
Then there appeared some Saracen soldiers. They were, at first, for
letting the two unarmed men go by; but, on questioning Francis, they
grew angrier and angrier.
"Are you deserters from the Christian camp?" they asked.
"No," replied Francis.
"Are you envoys from the commander come to plead for peace?"
"No," was the answer again.
"Will you give up the infidel religion and become a true believer and
say 'There is no God but Allah, and Mahomet is his prophet?'"
"No, no," cried Francis, "we are come to preach the Good News of Jesus
Christ to the Sultan of Egypt."
The eyes of the Saracen soldiers opened with amazement: they could
hardly believe their ears. Their faces flushed under their dark skins
with anger.
"Chain them," they cried to one another. "Beat them--the infidels."
Chains were brought and snapped upon the wrists and ankles of
Francis and Illuminato. Then they took rods and began to beat the two
men--just as Paul and Silas had been beaten eleven centuries earlier.
As the rods whistled through the air and came slashing upon their
wounded backs Francis kept crying out one word--"Soldan--Soldan." That
is "Sultan--Sultan."
He thus made them understand that he wished to be taken to their
Commander-in-Chief. So they decided to take these strange beings to
Malek-Kamel.
As the Sultan sat in his pavilion Francis and Illuminato were led in.
They bowed and saluted him courteously and Malek-Kamel returned the
salute.
"Have you come with a message from your Commander?" said the Sultan.
"No," replied Francis.
"You wish then to become Saracens--worshippers of Allah in the name of
Mahomet?"
"Nay, nay," answered Francis, "Saracens we will never be. We have come
with a message from God; it is a message that will save your life. If
you die under the law of Mahomet you are lost. We have come to tell
you so: if you listen to us we will show all this to you."
The Sultan seems to have been amused and interested rather than angry.
"I have bishops and archbishops of my own," he said, "they can tell me
all that I wish to know."
"Of this we are glad," replied Francis, "send and fetch them, if you
will."
The Sultan agreed; he sent for eight of his Moslem great men. When
they came in he said to them: "See these men, they have come to teach
us a new faith. Shall we listen to them?"
"Sire," they answered him at once, "thou knowest the law: thou art
bound to uphold it and carry it out. By Mahomet who gave us the law
to slay infidels, we command thee that their heads be cut off. We will
not listen to a word that they say. Off with their heads!"
The great men, having given their judgment, solemnly left the presence
of the Sultan. The Sultan turned to Francis and Illuminato.
"Masters," he said to them, "they have commanded me by Mahomet to have
your heads cut off. But I will go against the law, for you have risked
your lives to save my immortal soul. Now leave me for the time."
The two Christian missionaries were led away; but in a day or two
Malek-Kamel called them to his presence again.
"If you will stay in my dominions," he said, "I will give you land and
other possessions."
"Yes," said Francis, "I will stay--on one condition--that you and your
people turn to the worship of the true God. See," he went on, "let
us put it to the test. Your priests here," and he pointed to some who
were standing about, "they will not let me talk with them; will they
do something. Have a great fire lighted. I will walk into the fire
with them: the result will shew you whose faith is the true one."
As Francis suggested this idea the faces of the Moslem leaders were
transfigured with horror. They turned and quietly walked away.
"I do not think," said the Sultan with a sarcastic smile at their
retreating backs, "that any of my priests are ready to face the flames
to defend their faith."
"Well, I will go _alone_ into the fire," said Francis. "If I am
burned--it is because of my sins--if I am protected by God then you
will own Him as your God."
"No," replied the Sultan, "I will not listen to the idea of such a
trial of your life for my soul." But he was astonished beyond measure
at the amazing faith of Francis. So Francis withdrew from the presence
of the Sultan, who at once sent after him rich and costly presents.
"You must take them back," said Francis to the messengers; "I will not
take them."
"Take them to build your churches and support your priests," said the
Sultan through his messengers.
But Francis would not take any gift from the Sultan. He left him and
went back with Illuminato from the Saracen host to the camp of the
Crusaders. As he was leaving the Sultan secretly spoke with Francis
and said: "Will you pray for me that I may be guided by an inspiration
from above that I may join myself to the religion that is most
approved by God?"
The Sultan told off a band of his soldiers to go with the two men and
to protect them from any molesting till they reached the Crusaders'
Camp. There is a legend--though no one now can tell whether it is true
or not--that when the Sultan of Egypt lay dying he sent for a disciple
of Francis to be with him and pray for him. Whether this was so or
not, it is quite clear that Francis had left in the memory of the
Sultan such a vision of dauntless faith as he had never seen before or
was ever to see again.
The Crusaders failed to win Egypt or the Holy Land; but to-day men are
going from America and Britain in the footsteps of Francis of Assisi
the Christian missionary, to carry to the people in Egypt, in the Holy
Land and in all the Near East, the message that Francis took of the
love of Jesus Christ. The stories of some of the deeds they have done
and are to-day doing, we shall read in later chapters in this book.
Book Two: THE ISLAND ADVENTURERS