_The Umbrian Prophet_
"Fra santi il pui santo, e tra i peccatori quasi uno di
loro."--Celano. _Vita_ I. cap. xxix.
Often while reading the Italian chroniclers we forget that a life of
chivalry, song, tournament, and pagan pleasure-making was passed in a
mediaeval town even while war, pestilence, and famine cast a settled
gloom on every home. Lazar-houses stood at the gates of the city while
sumptuous feasts were spread in the banqueting halls of palaces. Men
rebelled against the ugliness and squalor produced by a hundred ills
that swept over Italy during the twelfth century,[18] and so it came
about that in the darkest hours of a city's history, scenes of maddest
revelry were enacted. At this period were founded the Brigate Amorose,
or Companies of young nobles, whose one aim in life was amusement.
There were few towns in Italy, however small, in which these gay
youths did not organise magnificent sports and tournaments[19] to
which the ladies came in gowns of rich brocades or "fair velvet,"
their tresses garlanded with precious jewels and flowers. Or knights,
ladies, and other folk would meet in the piazzas and pass the summer
evenings with
"Provencal songs and dances that surpass;
And quaint French mummings: and through hollow brass
A sound of German music in the air."[20]
Late at night after a splendid banquet, the nobles wandered through
the streets singing as they followed the lead of one chosen by
themselves, whom they called the Lord of Love. Sometimes their ranks
were swelled by passing troubadours from Provence who sang of the
feats of Charlemagne and of King Arthur and his knights. For it was
the time when Bernard de Ventadour was singing some of his sweetest
love lyrics, and people were alternately laughing at the
whimsicalities of Pierre Vidal and weeping at the tender pathos of his
poems.[21] Those who listened to these songsters were, for the moment,
deceived into thinking life was full of love and mirth, and sorrow
only touched them when their lady frowned. The music of Provence found
a way across the Alps to the feudal courts of Este and Ferrara, to
Verona, and later, southwards to Sicily, where Frederick the Great was
king. It came even to the towns which lay hidden in the folds of the
Umbrian mountains, and some of its sweetest strains were echoed back
again from Assisi. Her troubadour was Francis Bernardone, the rich
merchant's son, leader of the young nobles who, in their carousals,
named him Lord of Love, and placed the kingly sceptre in his hand as
he walked at their head through the streets at night, rousing the
sleepy Assisan burghers with wild bursts of song.
Francis had learned the Provencal language from his mother, Madonna
Pica, whom Pietro Bernardone[22] is said to have met while journeying
from castle to castle in Provence, tempting the ladies to buy his
merchandise as he told them news of Italy. The early writers do not
mention her nationality, they only allude to her as _Madonna_, which
might imply that she was of noble birth; the later legend, which says
that she was of the family of the counts of Bourlemont, is without
foundation. We know she was a good and tender mother to Francis, who
was left mostly in her charge, as Pietro Bernardone was so often
absent in France. She taught him to love the world of romance and
chivalry peopled by the heroes of the troubadours, and there he found
an escape from the gloom that enveloped Assisi during those early days
of warfare which were enough to sadden that joyous nature rarely found
among saints. Celano gives a graphic picture of the temptations to
which the youths of the middle ages were exposed, even in infancy in
their own homes. This danger Francis escaped, but the companions with
whom he spent the first twenty years of his life in gay living had not
been so well guarded, and Francis was not slow to feel the influence
of his time. We must remember that the accounts we have of him were
written under the papal eye, and it is patent that both as sinner and
as saint he took a leading part.
"He was always first among his equals in all vanities," says Celano,
"the first instigator of evil, and behind none in foolishness, so that
he drew upon himself the attention of the public by vain-glorious
extravagance, in which he stood foremost. He was not chary of jokes,
ridicule, light sayings, evil-speaking, singing, and in the wearing of
soft and fine clothes; being very rich he spent freely, being less
desirous of accumulating wealth than of dissipating his substance;
clever at trafficking, but too vain to prevent others from spending
what was his: withal a man of pleasant manners, facile and courteous
even to his own disadvantage; for this reason, therefore, many,
through his fault, became evil-doers and promoters of scandal. Thus,
surrounded by many worthless companions, triumphantly and scornfully
he went upon his way."[23]
His early years passed away in feasting and singing with an occasional
journey to a neighbouring town to sell the Bernardone wares, until
1202 when war broke out between Perugia and Assisi, and the big bell
of the cathedral called the citizens to arms in the Piazza della
Minerva. Men gathered round their captain, while from the windows of
every house women gesticulated wildly, almost drowning the clank of
armour and the tramp of horses by their shrill screams. Francis, on a
magnificent charger, rode out of the city gates abreast with the
nobles of Assisi, filling the bourgeois heart of Pietro with delight,
that a son of his should be thus honoured. It was a beautiful sight to
see the communal armies winding down to the plain, one coming from the
western hill, the other from the southern, to match their strength by
the Tiber. They were "troops of knights, noble in face and form,
dazzling in crest and shield; horse and man one labyrinth of quaint
colour and gleaming light--the purple, and silver, and scarlet fringes
flowing over the strong limbs and clashing mail like sea waves over
rocks at sunset."[24]
The Assisans were vanquished: no details of the fight have come down
to us, but we know that the nobles lay in a Perugian prison for a year
and that it was Francis who cheered them, often astonishing them with
his wild spirits. They told him he was mad to dance so gaily in a
prison, but nothing saddened him in those days.
When peace was at last made, with hard terms for Assisi, the prisoners
returned home and threw themselves with renewed vigour into their
former pursuit of pleasure, and soon afterwards Francis fell ill of a
fever which brought him near the grave. Face to face with death he
stood a while, and the result of the danger he had passed through
worked an extraordinary change in his nature. His recovery was in
reality a return to a new life, both of body and soul. Celano tells us
that Francis "being somewhat stronger and able to walk about the house
leaning on a stick, in order to complete his restoration to health one
day went forth and with unusual eagerness gazed at the vast extent of
country which lay before him; yet neither the charm of the vineyards
or of aught that is pleasant to look on, were of any consolation to
him."[25]
It was probably from the Porta Nuova, close to where the church of
Santa Chiara now stands, that he looked out on the Umbrian country he
loved so well. Here Mount Subasio rises grey and bleak above the olive
groves which slope gradually down to the valley where a white road
leads past Spello to Foligno in the plain and on to Spoleto high up in
the mountain gorge which brings the valley to a close. All these towns
were dear and familiar to Francis. He had watched them in spring time
when the young corn was ripening near their walls and the children
came out to look for the sweet scented narcissi. While wandering on
the hill sides at dawn he had seen the brown roofs warmed by the first
rays of the sun and each window twinkle like so many eyes across the
plain in answer to the light. But as he looked now upon the same scene
a great sadness came over him, and we are told he wondered at the
sudden inward change. That hour in the smiling Umbrian landscape was
the most solitary he ever experienced; ill and weak he awoke to the
emptiness of the life he had hitherto led, and in the bitterness of
his soul he did not know where to turn for comfort.[26]
It is a remarkable fact that Celano does not from this moment picture
Francis as an aureoled saint, but allows us to realise the many
difficulties he had to overcome before he stands once more among the
vineyards with a song of praise upon his lips, and a look of victory
in his eyes.
Although Francis began to "despise those things he had formerly held
dear," he was not altogether freed from the bonds of vanity, nor had
he "thrown off the yoke of servitude"; for when restored to health he
was full of ambitious projects to make a great career for himself in
the world. The realisation of his dreams seemed indeed near, as it
happened at this time that a noble knight of Assisi was preparing to
join the army of Gauthier de Brienne, then fighting the battles of
Pope Innocent III, in Apulia. Francis, "greedy of glory," determined
to accompany the knight to the wars, and began to prepare for the
journey with more than usual magnificence. He was all impatience to
start, and his mind was full of the expedition when he had a dream
which filled him with hope. In lieu of the bales of silk in his
father's warehouse, stood saddles, shields, and lances, all marked
with the red cross, and as he marvelled at the sight a voice told him
those arms were intended for himself and his soldiers. Rising next
morning full of ambitious plans after such an omen of good fortune, he
mounted his charger and rode through the town bidding farewell to his
friends. He smiled on all and seemed so light of heart that they
pressed round asking what made him so merry. "I shall yet be a great
prince," he answered, and he passed out of the Porta Nuova, where but
a short while before he had stood looking down so sadly on the valley
he was now to traverse as an armoured knight. At Spoleto he had a
return of intermittent fever, and while chafing at the delay a voice
called to him: "Francis, who can do the most good, the master or the
servant?"
"The master," answered Francis, not in the least astonished by the
mysterious question.
"Why then dost thou leave the master for the servant, and the prince
for the follower? Return to thy country, there shalt thou be told what
to do; for thou hast mistaken the meaning and wrongly interpreted the
vision sent thee by God."
Next morning, leaving the knight to continue the journey alone, he
mounted his horse and returned to Assisi, where he was doubtless
received with disappointment by his parents, and with gibes by the
citizens who had listened to his boasts of future greatness. Once
again he went back to work in his father's shop, but now when the
young nobles called to him to join in their revels he went listlessly,
often escaping from their midst to wander alone in the fields or pass
long hours praying in a grotto near the city. One day his friends, in
despair at his frequent absences, gave a grand banquet, making him
"King of the feast." He delighted them all with fitful bursts of merry
wit, but at last when the revellers rushed out into the night to roam
about the town till dawn, Francis fell back from the gay throng, and
stood gazing up at the calm Umbrian sky decked in all its splendour of
myriad stars. When the others returned in search of their leader,
they, wondering at the change that had come over the wildest spirit of
Assisi, assailed him with questions. "Are you thinking of marrying,
Francis," cried one jester, and amidst the laughter of all came his
quiet answer: "Yes, a wife more noble and more beautiful than ye have
ever seen; she will outshine all others in beauty and in wisdom."
Already the image of the Lady Poverty had visited him, and enamoured
like a very troubadour he composed songs in her honour as he walked in
the woods near Assisi.
The kind heart of Francis had always been touched at the sight of the
poor lepers, who, exiled from the companionship of their fellow
creatures, lived in a lazar-house on the plain, about a mile from the
town. But his compassion for their misery was mingled with a strong
feeling of repugnance, so that he had always shunned these wretched
outcasts. "When I was in the bondage of sin," he tells us in his will,
"it was bitter to me, and loathsome to see, and loke uppon persouny
enfect with leopre; but that blessed Lord broughte me amonge them, and
I did mercy with them, and departing from them, what before semyd
bittre and lothesomme was turned and changed to me in great sweetnesse
and comfort both of body and of soule, and afterwards in this state I
stode and abode a lytle while, and then I lefte and forsooke the
worldly lyf."[27]
Pietro Bernardone now saw his son, clothed in rags, his face pinched
and white from long vigils spent in prayer, going forth on errands of
mercy, jeered at by the citizens, pelted with stones and filth by the
children. There were many storms in the Bernardone household which the
gentle Pica was unable to quell; and when finally Francis began to
throw his father's money among the poor in the same regal manner in
which he had once spent it among his boon companions, Bernardone could
bear it no longer, and drove his son from the house. When they met he
cursed him, and the family bonds thus severed were never again
renewed.
Francis was still like a pilgrim uncertain of his goal, or like a man
standing before a heavy burden which he feels unable to lift. What was
he to do with his life--how could he help the poor and suffering--were
questions he asked himself over and over again as he vainly sought for
an anchor in the troubled seas. The answer came to him one day as he
was attending mass at the chapel of the Portiuncula on the feast of
St. Matthew the apostle, in the year 1209.
"And as ye go, preach, saying, The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal
the sick, cleanse the lepers, raise the dead, cast out devils: freely
ye have received, freely give. Provide neither gold, nor silver, nor
brass in your purses, nor scrip for your journey, neither two coats,
neither shoes, nor yet staves" ... read the priest from the gospel of
the day. Those simple words were a revelation to Francis, who, when
mass was over, ran out into the woods, and, with only the birds in
the oak trees to witness his strange interpretation of the gospel,
threw away his shoes, wallet, staff and well-filled purse. "This is
what I desired; behold, here is what I searched for and am burning to
perform," he cried, in the delirium of his new-found joy.
If the Assisans had been astonished at his former eccentricities, as
they termed his deeds of charity, they were yet more amazed to see him
now, clothed in a coarse habit, with a knotted cord round his waist,
and with bare feet, begging his bread from door to door. After a
little while they grew accustomed to the hurrying figure of the young
mendicant as he passed rapidly down the street greeting all he met
with the salutation of "Our Lord give thee His peace." The words
brought something new and strange into men's hearts, and those who had
scoffed at him most drew near to learn the secret of their charm. The
first to be touched by the simplicity and joyous saintliness of
Francis was Bernardo di Quintevalle, a wealthy noble of Assisi, who
had known him as King among the young Assisan revellers, and watched
with astonishment his complete renouncement of the world. He
determined to join Francis in ministering to the lepers, and began his
new mode of life by selling all his possessions for the benefit of the
poor. His conversion created a considerable stir in the town; and
people had not ceased to gossip on the subject when another well-known
citizen, Pietro de Catanio, a canon of the cathedral, also offered his
services at the lazar-house. A few days later a labourer named Egidio
"beholding how those noble knights of Assisi despised the world, so
that the whole country stood amazed," came in search of Francis to beg
him to take him as one of his companions. Francis met him at the
entrance of the wood by the lazar hospital, and gazing on the devout
aspect of Egidio, answered and said: "Brother most dear, God has shown
Himself exceeding gracious unto thee. If the Emperor were to come to
Assisi and desire to make a certain citizen his knight or private
chamberlain, ought not such a one to be exceeding glad? How much more
oughtest thou not to rejoice that God hath chosen thee out to be His
knight and well-beloved servant, to observe the perfection of the Holy
Gospel"?[28] and, taking him by the hand, he brought him to the hut
which was their home. Here a merchant's son, a learned churchman, and
a rich nobleman, welcomed an Assisan labourer in their midst with the
simple brotherly love which was to be the keynote of the franciscan
order. After the reception of Egidio we are told that Francis went
with him to the Marches of Ancona, "singing glorious praises of the
Lord of heaven and earth" as they travelled along the dusty roads.
Albeit Francis did not preach publicly to the people, yet as he went
by the way he admonished and corrected the men-folk and the
women-folk, saying lovingly to them these simple words: "Love and fear
God, and do fit penance for your sins." And Egidio would say: "Do what
this my spiritual Father saith unto you, for he speaketh right well."
It was not long before the fame of Francis drew quite a little
community of brethren to the tiny hut in the plain, and the question
naturally occurs--Did Francis plan out the creation of an order when
he gathered men around him? It was so natural a thing for disciples to
follow him that his biographers simply note it as a fact, and, not
being given to speculation in those days, pass on to other events. We
may be allowed to conjecture that the same ambition which some years
before had stirred his longing to be a great prince was not dead,
only his dreams were to be realised in another sphere of action. The
qualities which made him the brilliant leader among the gay nobles of
Assisi were now turned into another channel--he became a prince among
saints, a controller of men's destinies.
Varied indeed was the band of Francis' disciples, and it is
interesting to see how each one was allowed to follow the bent of his
nature. In this complete sympathy with character lay one of the
secrets of his power. Egidio, who in the world had been a labourer,
was encouraged by his master to continue his life in the open country.
He gathered in the olives for the peasants, helped them with their
vintage, and when the corn was being cut would glean the ears; but if
anyone offered him a handful of grain, he remarked: "My brother, I
have no granary wherein to store it." Usually he gave away what he had
gleaned to the poor, so that he brought little food back to the
convent. Always ready to turn his hand to every job, one day we find
Egidio beating a walnut tree for a proprietor who could find none to
do the work because the tree was so tall. But he set himself gaily to
the task, and having made the sign of the Cross, "with great fear
climbed up the walnut tree and beat it. The share that fell to him was
so large that he could not carry it in his tunic, so taking off his
habit he tied the sleeves and the hood together and made a sack of
it."[29] With this load on his back he returned towards the convent,
but on the way distributed all the nuts to the poor. Egidio remains
the ideal type of the franciscan friar. "He is a Knight of my Round
Table," said Francis one day as he recounted some new adventure which
had befallen the intrepid brother, who was always journeying to some
southern town, and is said even to have visited the Holy Land.[30]
A very different man, drawn by the magic influence of Francis into the
Order at the beginning of its fame in 1211, was Elias Buonbarone, the
son of a Bolognese mattress-maker who had for some time been settled
in Assisi. He is always represented by the biographers as haughty,
overbearing, and fond of controlling the actions of others; in fact a
strong contrast to the meek brother Leo whom Francis lovingly named
the little lamb of God. But if lacking in saintly qualities, Elias
possessed a remarkable mind and determination of character which
enabled him afterwards to play a considerable part in the history of
his times. He embodies the later franciscan spirit which grew up after
the saint's death, and of which we shall treat in another chapter.
When Francis found himself surrounded by some dozen followers, all
anxious to obey his wishes to the very letter and waiting only to be
sent hither and thither as he commanded, it became necessary to write
down some rule of life. In simple words he enjoined all to live
according to the precepts of the Gospel, "and they that came to
reseyve this forme or manner of lyvynge departyd and distributed that
they had and myght haue too powre people. And we were content with
oone coote pesyd bothe within forthe and without forthe with oone
corde and a femorall, and we wolde not haue ony more. Our dyvyne
servyse the clerkis saide as other clerkis, and the lay bretherne said
ther Pater noster. And we fulle gladly dwelt and taried in pour
deserte and desolat churchys, and we were contente to be taken as
ideotis and foolys of every man, and I did exercyse my self in bodily
laboure. And I wille laboure, and yt ys my wille surely and
steadfastely that alle the bretherne occupie and exercyse themself in
laboure, and in such occupation and laboure as belongeth to honeste.
And those that have no occupation to exercyse themself with alle,
shall lerne not for covetis to resceyve the price or hier for their
laboure, but for to give good example and eschewe and put away
idlenesse. When we wer not satisfied nor recompensied for our laboure,
we went and had recourse to the lord of oure Lorde, askynge almes from
dore to dore. Our Lorde by reualation tawghte me to say this maner of
salutation, 'Our Lorde give to thee His peace.'"[31]
The first rule which Francis and his companions took in the summer of
1210 to be confirmed by Innocent III, has not come down to us. In Rome
they fortunately met the bishop of Assisi, who promised to obtain for
them, through one of the Cardinals, an interview with the Pope. A
legend tells us how Innocent, wrapt in deep meditation, was pacing
with solemn step the terrace of the Lateran, when this strange company
of ragged, bare-footed, dusty men was ushered into his presence. He
looked at them in surprise, his lip curling in disdain as Francis
stepped forward to make his request. From an Umbrian pilgrim he heard
for the first time that power was not the greatest good in life while
in poverty lay both peace and joy, and the great pope stood amazed at
the new doctrine. "Who can live without temporal possessions,"
sarcastically asked the Cardinals who had been trained in the spirit
of Innocent, and the "Penitents of Assisi" bowed their heads, and
drawing their hoods forward, went sorrowfully out of the pope's
presence amid the jeers of his court. That night Innocent had a dream
in which he saw the church of St John Lateran about to fall, and its
tottering walls were supported on the shoulders of a man whom he
recognised as the spokesman of the band of Umbrians he had so hastily
dismissed. Full of strange visions the pope sent for Francis, who
repeated his desire to have his rule confirmed. "My son," said
Innocent, "your rule of life seems to us most hard and bitter, but
although we do not doubt your fervour we must consider whether the
road is not too hard a one for those who are to follow thee." Francis,
with ready wit, answered these objections by a tale he invented for
the purpose. "A beautiful but poor girl lived in a desert, and a great
king, seeing her beauty, wished to take her to wife, thinking by her
to have fine children. The marriage having taken place, many sons were
born, and when they were grown up their mother thus spoke to them: 'My
sons be not ashamed, for you are sons of the king; go therefore to his
court and he will cause all that is needful to be given to you.' And
when they came, the king, observing their beauty and seeing in them
his own likeness and image, said: 'Whose sons are you?' And they
answered; 'sons of a poor woman who lived in the desert.' So with
great joy the king embraced them, saying: 'Be not afraid, for you are
my sons, and when strangers eat at my table how much more right have
you to eat who are my legitimate sons?' The king then ordered the said
woman to send all sons born of her to be nourished at his court." "Oh,
Messer," cried Francis, "I am that poor woman, beloved of God, and
made beautiful through His mercy, by whom he was pleased to generate
legitimate sons. And the King said to me that he will feed all the
sons born of me, for as He feeds strangers so He may well feed His
own."
Thus did Francis describe his Lady Poverty, and boldly hint that the
crimson-robed princes of the Church and the prelates of the Papal
Court had strayed from the teaching of the Gospel.
Who can say whether Innocent, watching with keen eyes the earnest face
of the Umbrian teacher, began to realise the power such a man might
have in restoring to the church some of its lost purity, and was
planning how to yoke him to his service. This at least we know, that
before Francis and his companions left Rome they received the tonsure
which marked them as the Church's own, and with blessings and promises
of protection Innocent sent this new and strange militia throughout
the length and breadth of Italy to fight his spiritual battles. The
simplicity and the love of Francis had conquered the Pope, and to the
end continued to triumph over every difficulty.
Such was the desire of Francis and his companions to return to Assisi
with the good news, that they forgot to eat on the way and arrived
exhausted in the valley of Spoleto, though still singing aloud for the
joy in their hearts. Somewhere near Orte they found an Etruscan
tomb--a delightful retreat for prayer. It so pleased Francis that a
strong temptation came over him to abandon all idea of preaching and
lead a hermit's life. For there was that in his nature which drew him
into the deep solitude of the woods, and might have kept him away from
men and the work that was before him. The battle in his soul waged
fiercely as he stood upon the mountain side looking up the valley
towards Assisi, but his heart went out to the people who dwelt there,
and the strong impulse he had to help those who suffered and needed
him won the day. The die was cast; he left his Etruscan retreat to
take up once more the burden, and thus it was that, in the words of
Matthew Arnold: "He brought religion to the people. He founded the
most popular body of ministers of religion that has ever existed in
the church. He transformed monachism by uprooting the stationary monk,
delivering him from the bondage of property, and sending him, as a
mendicant friar, to be a stranger and sojourner; not in the
wilderness, but in the most crowded haunts of men, to console them,
and to do them good."
When Francis began his mission among the people of Italy it was the
custom for only the bishops to preach; but as they lived in baronial
splendour, enjoying the present, and amassing money which they
extorted from their poor parishioners to leave to their families, they
had little time to attend to spiritual duties. The people being
therefore left much to their own devices, sank ever deeper into
ignorance, sin, and superstition. They saw religion only from afar
until Francis appeared "like a star shining in the darkness of the
night" to bring to them the messages of peace and love. He came as one
of themselves, poor, reviled and persecuted, and the wonder of it made
the people throng in crowds to hear one who seemed indeed inspired.
Those simple words from the depths of a great and noble heart filled
all who listened with wonder. They were like the sharp cries of some
wild bird calling to its mate--the people heard and understood them.
When the citizens of an Umbrian town looked from their walls across
the valley and saw the grey cloaked figure hurrying along the dusty
road, they rang the bells to spread the good news, and bearing
branches of olive went out singing to meet him. All turned out of
their houses to run to the market-place where Francis, standing on
steps, or upon a low wall, for he was short of stature, would speak
to them as one friend does to another; sometimes charming them by his
eloquence, often moving the whole multitude to bitter tears by his
preaching on the passion of Christ. With his eyes looking up to the
heavens, and his hands outstretched as though imploring them to
repent, he seemed to belong to another world and "not to this
century." They not only repented, but many left the world to follow
him and spread the gospel of peace and love. The first woman who
begged him to receive her vows of renunciation was Chiara Sciffi, of a
noble Assisan house. Several members of the family, besides others
from near and far, followed her into the cloister until she became the
abbess of a numerous sisterhood, the foundress of the Poor Clares or
Second Order of St. Francis.
The first inspired messages of Francis were brought to the Assisans,
and then he left them for awhile to journey further afield into other
parts of Italy, where he always met with the same marvellous success.
In the following account of his visit to Bologna we get a vivid idea
of his manner of appeal to the people; and of their enthusiasm and
astonishment that this poor and seemingly illiterate man, the very
antithesis of the pedantic clergy, should have the power to hold and
sway an audience by the magic of his words. "I, Thomas, citizen of
Spalato, and archdeacon of the cathedral church of the same city,
studying at Bologna in the year 1220, on the day of the assumption of
the Mother of God, saw St. Francis preach in the square before the
little palace, where nearly the whole town was assembled. He spoke
first of angels, of men, and of devils. He explained the spiritual
natures with such exactness and eloquence that his hearers were
astonished that such words could come from the mouth of a man so
simple as he was. Nor did he follow the usual course of preachers.
His discourse resembled rather one of those harangues that are made by
popular orators. At the conclusion, he spoke only of the extinction of
hatred, and the urgency of concluding treaties of peace, and compacts
of union. His garments were soiled and torn, his person thin, his face
pale, but God gave his words unheard-of power. He converted even men
of rank, whose unrestrained fury and cruelty had bathed the country in
blood; many who were enemies were reconciled. Love and veneration for
the saint were universal; men and women thronged around him, and happy
were those who could so much as touch the hem of his habit."[32]
Young knights and students stepped out of the crowd after one of these
burning discourses, resolved to don the grey habit and renounce the
world. The ranks of the followers of St. Francis were swelled at every
town through which he passed; and he left some of his own sweetness
and gentleness among those who had listened to his preaching, so that
party feuds lay dormant for awhile, enemies were reconciled, and all
tried to lead more Christian lives. _Pax et bonum_ was the Franciscan
war-cry which fell indeed strangely on the air in a mediaeval town.
Whenever Francis heard of tension and ill-will between the nobles and
the people he hurried with his message of peace to quell the storm.
But at Perugia he failed. Brother Leo tells us that, "Once upon a
time, when the Blessed Francis was preaching to a great multitude of
people gathered together in the Piazza of Perugia, some cavaliers of
the city began to joust and play on their horses in the piazza, thus
interrupting his sermon; and, although rebuked by those present, they
would not desist. Then the blessed Francis, in the fervour of his
soul, turned towards them and said, 'Listen and understand what the
Lord announces to you by me, his little servant, and refrain from
jeering at him, and saying, He is an Assisan.' This he said because of
the ancient hatred which still exists between the Perugians and the
Assisans...."[33] Rebuking the citizens for their pride, he predicted
that if they did not shortly repent civil war would break out in the
city. But the Perugians, who fought ever better than they prayed,
continued in their evil ways until at length the words of St. Francis
were verified. A tumult arose between the people of Perugia, and the
soldiers were thrust out of the city gates into the country, which
they devastated, destroying trees, vineyards, and corn-fields, so that
the misery in the land was great.
[Illustration: VIA DI S. MARIA DELLE ROSE]
In the course of a single day Francis often preached at five different
towns or villages; sometimes he went up to a feudal castle, attracted
by the sound of music and laughter. "Let us go up unto this feast,"
he would say to his companion, "for, with the help of God, we may win
some good harvest of souls." Knights and ladies left the banqueting
hall when they heard of his arrival, and Francis standing on a low
parapet of the courtyard preached so "devoutly and sublimely to them
that all stood with their eyes and their minds turned on him as though
an angel of God were speaking." And then the gay company returned to
their feast and the two friars went on their way singing aloud from
the joy in their hearts, and passed the night praying in some deserted
church or rested under the olive trees on the hill-side. At dawn they
rose and "went according to their rule, begging bread for the love of
God, St. Francis going by one street and Brother Masseo by another.
But St. Francis, being contemptible to look upon and small of stature,
was accounted but a vile beggar by those who knew him not, and only
received some mouthfuls of food and small scraps of stale bread; but
to Brother Masseo, because he was tall and finely made, were given
tit-bits in large pieces and in plenty and whole slices of bread. When
they had done begging they met together outside the town to eat in a
place where was a fair spring, and near by a fine broad stone whereon
each placed the alms they had gathered, and St. Francis seeing the
pieces of bread given to Brother Masseo to be more numerous, better,
and far larger than his own rejoiced greatly...."[34]
Masseo on one occasion wishing to try the humility of Francis mocked
him saying, "Why doth all the world come after thee, and why is it
that all men long to see thee, and hear thee, and obey thee? Thou art
not a comely man, thou art not possessed of much wisdom, thou art not
of noble birth; whence comes it then that the whole world doth run
after thee?"
It is easy to see the naive wonder of the practical Masseo in these
words, a wonder doubtless shared by others who looked on from the same
standpoint, at the extraordinary influence Francis obtained through
his preaching. Their astonishment must have reached its height when
Francis came to a little town near Bevagna (perhaps Cannara) where he
preached with such fervour that the whole population wished to take
the franciscan habit. Husbands, wives, nobles, labourers, young and
old, rich and poor, rose up with one accord, ready to leave their
homes and follow him to the end of the earth. Such an awakening by the
simple words of a road-side preacher had never before been seen, and
was the precursor of other popular demonstrations a few years
later.[35] Francis, with extraordinary diplomacy, held the
enthusiastic crowd in check without extinguishing their piety. He
calmly viewed the situation and solved the difficulty where another,
with less knowledge of human nature, might have been carried away by
the opening of the flood-gates. It is not without amusement that one
thinks of Francis coming to convert sinners, and then finding he had
called into being an order of Religious who absolutely refused to
separate from him. He calmed the weeping crowd, and with caution said
to them: "'Be not in a hurry, neither leave your homes, and I will
order that which ye are to do for the salvation of your souls:' and he
then decided to create the Third Order for the universal salvation of
all, and thus, leaving them much consoled and well disposed to
penitence, he departed...."
At a time when war, party feuds, and the unlawful seizure of property
brought misery into the land, the Tertiaries, united by solemn vows to
keep the commandments of God, to be reconciled to their enemies, and
to restore what was not rightfully theirs, became a power which had to
be reckoned with. The rule forbidding them to fight, save in defence
of the Church or of their country, dealt a severe blow at the feudal
system, and therefore met with much opposition among the great barons.
Persecution only increased their power, for so early as 1227 Gregory
IX, protected the Brothers of Penitence by a special Bull. The enemies
of the Church soon discovered that they had a powerful antagonist in
an Order which comprised the faithful of every age, rank, and
profession, and whose religious practices, whilst creating a great
bond of union among them, were not severe enough to take them away
from social life in the very heart of the great cities. They formed a
second vanguard to the papacy, and Frederick II, was heard to complain
that this Third Order impeded the execution of his plans against the
Holy See; while his chancellor Pier delle Vigne in one of his letters
exclaims that the whole of Christendom seems to have entered its
ranks.[36]
Thus both from within and from without the world was being moulded as
Francis willed; all Italy responded to his call, and everywhere rose
songs of praise to God from a people no longer oppressed by the
squalor of their evil living. His energy and desire to gain souls drew
him still further afield into the wilds of Slavonia, into Spain,
Syria, Morocco, and later into Egypt, for the purpose of converting
the Soldan. So great was his eagerness to arrive at his destination
and begin to preach that, often leaving his companions far behind, he
literally ran along the roads. He was "inebriated by the excessive
fervour of his spirit," and on fire with divine love, and yet he
failed on these missions in foreign lands. The reason probably lay in
his total ignorance of any language except Italian and Provencal, so
that his words must have lost all their eloquence and power when
delivered through the medium of an interpreter, and we know that
Francis never made use of miracles to enforce his teaching.[37]
He returned to Assisi bitterly disappointed, and so despondent that
for a while he was tempted to give up all idea of preaching. In this
uncertainty he turned for council to Brother Sylvester and to St.
Clare, who both urged him to continue his mission to the people; God,
they said, had not elected him to work out his salvation in the
solitude of a cell but for the salvation of all. He left the hermitage
(perhaps the Carcere) and filled with new courage by their words,
started on a fresh pilgrimage by "cities and castles," but this time
among the Umbrians who knew and loved him. As he came near Bevagna in
the plain a new crowd of listeners awaited him--troops of fluttering
birds--bullfinches, rooks, doves, "a great company of creatures
without number." Leaving his companions in a state of wonder on the
road, he ran into the field saying, "I would preach to my little
brothers the birds," and as he drew near, those that were on the
ground did not attempt to fly away, while those perched on the trees
flew down to listen to his sermon.
"My little brethren birds," he said, after saluting them as was his
custom, "ye ought greatly to praise and love the Lord who created
you, for He provideth all that is necessary, giving unto you feathers
for raiment and wings to fly with. The Most High God has placed you
among His creatures, and given you the pure air for your abode; ye do
not sow neither do ye reap, but He keeps and feeds you."[38]
Stretching out their necks, opening their beaks, and spreading their
wings, the birds listened while they fixed their eyes upon the saint
and never moved even when he walked in their midst touching them with
his habit, until he made the sign of the Cross and allowed them to
depart. He often related this episode which had made such a happy day
in his life and had been of good augury at a time when he was sad.
The love of Francis for his "little brethren the birds," and indeed
for all creatures however small, was one of the most beautiful traits
in a character which stands out in such strong relief in the history
of the middle ages. It was not only a poetical sentiment but the very
essence of his being; a power felt by every living thing, from the
brigand who left his haunts in the forests to follow him, to the
half-frozen bees which crawled in winter to be fed with wine and honey
from his hands. An understanding so complete with Nature was unknown
until Francis stretched out his arms in yearning towards her shrines
and drew the people, plunged in the gloom of Catharist doctrines,
towards what was a religion in itself--the worship of the beautiful.
"Le treizieme siecle etait pret pour comprendre la voix du poete de
l'Ombrie; le sermon aux oiseaux clot le regne de l'art byzantin et de
la pensee dont il etait l'image. C'est la fin du dogmatisme et de
l'autorite; c'est l'avenement de l'individualisme et de
l'inspiration,"[39] says M. Paul Sabatier. No one mocked at the
sermon to the birds; no one wondered that leverets, loosed from the
snare of the huntsman, should run to Francis for protection, or
pheasants forsake the woods to seek a shelter in his cell; for so
great an awakening had taken place in Italy that all understood the
deep vein of poetry in their saint.
His biographers have transmitted these various anecdotes with a
tenderness and simplicity which cannot fail to impress us with the
belief that Francis, like many in our own time, possessed a marked
attraction for all animals, a magnetism felt with equal strength by
man and beast. Love was the Orphean lute he played upon, sending such
sweet melody into the world that its strains have not yet died away.
Besides the feeling he had for the beautiful, the small, or the weak,
there was another influence at work that made him walk with reverence
over the stones, gather up the worms from the path to save them from
being crushed, and buy the lambs that were being carried to market
with their poor feet tied together. He saw in all things a symbol of
some great truth which carried his thoughts straight to God. One day
near Ancona he noticed a lamb following slowly and disconsolately a
large herd of goats which made him think of Christ among the
Pharisees. In pity he bought it from the goat-herd, and in triumph
carried it to a neighbouring town where he preached a parable to an
admiring crowd, even edifying the bishop by his piety.
Speaking of his favourite birds he would say, "Sister lark hath a hood
like the Religious ... and her raiment--to wit her feathers--resemble
the earth.... And when she soars she praises God most sweetly." Such
was his desire to protect them that he once said if he could only have
speech with the Emperor he would entreat him to pass a special edict
for the preservation of his sisters the larks, and command the "Mayors
of the cities and the Lord of the castles to throw grain on the roads
by the walled towns" on the feast of the Nativity, so that all the
birds should rejoice with man on that day. He found great joy in the
open fields, the vineyards, the rocky ravines, and the forests which
gave shelter to his feathered brethren; running water and the
greenness of the orchards, earth, fire, air, and the winds so invited
him to divine love that often he passed the whole day praising the
marvels of creation. No wonder he turned his steps more willingly up
the mountain paths to the hermitage of the Carceri than towards the
crowded cities. Nature was his companion, his breviary the mirror
wherein he saw reflected the face of the Creator. In the song of the
nightingales, in the sound of their wings, in the petals of a tiny
flower, in the ever changing glory of his own Umbrian valley he was
always reminded of God, and for this he has been rightly called a
"Pan-Christian."
There is not a corner in Umbria, one might almost say in Italy, which
does not bear some record of the passage of the saint. The sick were
brought to him and cured, those in trouble laid their sorrows before
him and went away comforted. When anything went wrong, a hasty message
was sent to Francis, and all with child-like simplicity trusted in him
to set things right. We even hear that the people of Gubbio, being
persecuted by a fierce wolf, had recourse to him, for they failed to
protect themselves though the men sallied forth "as if going to
battle." The saint had little difficulty in persuading Brother Wolf to
lead a respectable life; and he, seeing the advantage of a peaceful
existence, bowed his head and placed his paw, as a solemn seal to the
compact, in the hand of Francis amid the joyful cries of the people
who marvelled greatly at the "novelty of the miracle." After this he
could be seen walking gently through the streets of Gubbio to receive
his daily ration at every door, cared for by the citizens "and not a
dog would wag even his tongue against him." When Brother Wolf died
there was bitter mourning in the city, for all felt as if a friend had
passed away, and there was none left to remind them of the kindly
saint who had helped them in their need. "Am I expected to believe
these fairy tales?" some may ask with a sneer. The exact events
related--no--but the spirit of these legends is more necessary to a
true conception of the saint and the times in which he lived than all
the histories that can ever be written about him. The Umbrians
pictured him as they saw and understood him, and tradition going from
mouth to mouth found finally its perfect expression in the "Little
Flowers of St. Francis." Wonders and miracles are in every page, it is
true, but then the peasants will tell you all things are possible in
Umbria; the taming of wild beasts, the silencing of garrulous swallows
who chattered so loudly while he preached, do not seem stranger to
them than the conversion of brigands and murderers, for did not the
very angels obey his wishes and play and sing to him one night when he
lay ill in a lonely hermitage, longing for the sound of sweet strains
to break the awful stillness round him?
Francis would have been sorely troubled had he foreseen the numberless
miracles his biographers were going to attribute to him, for no saint
was ever humbler. Even in his lifetime, oppressed by the homage paid
him, he would say to his adorers with a touch of quaint humour: "do
not be in such haste to proclaim me a saint, for I may still be the
father of children." He was always fearful lest people should
overrate his good actions, and his horror of hypocrisy drove him to
confess aloud to the people gathered round to listen to a sermon, in
what manner he had given way to the desires of "Brother Body." Upon
one occasion having used lard in lieu of the less wholesome oil when
he was ill, he began his sermon by saying: "Ye come to me with great
devoutness believing me to be a saint, but I do confess unto God and
unto you that this Lent I have eaten cakes made with lard." Another
time, after a severe chill, his companions sewed some fox-skin inside
his habit to keep him somewhat warmer during the bitter cold, but he
was not happy until a piece had been sewn also on the outside so that
all might see the luxury he allowed himself.
It may at first seem strange that one so simple should have exercised
such extraordinary influence on men and women of all ranks, an
influence which has lasted with undiminished force for seven hundred
years. But we must remember that a people, however ready to listen to
the words of a reformer (especially an Italian crowd), will hardly be
moved by calmness or sense; only when one like Francis stirs their
imagination by a peculiar way of announcing God's word, and by acts
sometimes bordering on insanity, can he completely succeed in winning
them. The Assisans, at first shocked by some of the spectacles they
witnessed in their sleepy town, jeered and murmured, until at last the
saint literally took them by storm; and the more he risked their good
opinion the louder they applauded him and wept for their sins.
Astonishment was at its height when on the way to some service at the
cathedral, the citizens saw Francis approaching them "naked save for
his breeches," while Brother Leo carried his habit. He has gone mad
through too much penance, some thought. The truth was that Francis had
imposed this same penance on Brother Ruffino who was then preaching to
the people in the cathedral, and his conscience smote him so that he
began to chide himself, saying: "Why art thou so presumptuous, son of
Bernardone, vile little man, as to command Fra Ruffino, who is one of
the noblest of the Assisans, to go and preach to the people as though
he were mad."... So when Ruffino's sermon was ended Francis went up
into the pulpit and preached with such eloquence on his Lady Poverty
and on the nakedness and shame of the Passion suffered by Our Lord
Jesus Christ "that the whole church was filled with the sound of
weeping and wailing such as had never before been heard in Assisi."
Thus did the force of originality win the people, and all those who
had jeered but a few minutes before were much "edified and comforted
by this act of St. Francis and Brother Ruffino; and St. Francis having
reclad Brother Ruffino and himself, returned to the Portiuncula
praising and glorifying God, who had given them grace to abase
themselves to the edification of Christ's little sheep."
By word and example Francis taught his disciples to be especially
humble towards the clergy. "If ye be sons of peace," he often said,
"ye shall win both clergy and people, and this is more acceptable to
God than to win the people only and to scandalise the clergy. Cover
their backslidings and supply their many defects, and when ye have
done this be ye the more humble." He had to struggle against much
opposition among the bishops, who looked upon him and his friars as
intruders encroaching upon their rights. People had often advised him
to obtain a Bull from Rome, to enable him to preach without asking
permission, but it was through the power of persistent meekness that
he wished to win his way to every heart, and the only weapons he used
were those of love. St. Bonaventura tells us that the Bishop of Imola
absolutely refused to let Francis call the citizens together and
preach to them. "It suffices, friar, that I preach to the people
myself," was the cross reply, and Francis, drawing his cowl over his
head, humbly went his way. But after the short space of an hour he
retraced his steps, and the bishop inquired with some anger why he had
returned. He made answer in all humility of heart and speech: "My
lord, if a father sends his son out at one door there is nothing left
for him but to return by another." Then the bishop, vanquished by his
humility, embraced him with a joyful countenance, saying: "Thou and
all thy brethren shall have a general licence to preach throughout my
diocese, as the reward of thy holy humility."[40]
This was the saint, gentle and sweet among men, who won the friendship
of Ugolino, Bishop of Ostia (afterwards Pope Gregory IX). The bishop
often spent quiet hours at the Portiuncula, trying perhaps to find, in
the companionship of the saint and his poor friars, a peace he in vain
sought amid the luxury of the Papal Court. Celano,[41] who may have
been present during one of these meetings, tells us how he delighted
in throwing off his rich robes and clothing himself in the Franciscan
habit. In these moments of humility he would reverently bend the knee
to Francis and kiss his hands. Besides his great admiration and love
for the personality of the saint, he was not slow to perceive the
services Francis had rendered in endeavouring to restore something of
the pristine purity to Christianity, and further, the Order was fast
becoming of political importance. The work of organising a community,
no longer a handful of Assisan knights and yeomen following in the
footsteps of their leader, was by no means an easy task; and Ugolino
saw his way to bring it more closely into the service of the Church.
Francis, whether willingly or not we cannot say, begged the Pope to
name Ugolino Patron and Father of his Order. This was readily
accorded, for it was felt in the papal circle that Francis was not so
easy to drive as became a submissive child of the Church. They could
not complain of actual disobedience, but he liked doing things his own
way. By some at Rome it was suggested to him that he should adopt the
Benedictine rule, by others that he might join his Order to that of St
Dominic, but the saint smiled sweetly, and though so dove-like none
succeeded in entangling him in their diplomatic nets. Indeed he
puzzled Ugolino many times, and both Innocent III and Honorius III
were never quite sure whether they had to do with a simpleton or a
saint. The Roman prelates, completely out of sympathy with his
doctrine of poverty, were only too ready to thwart him, and Ugolino
knowing this advised him "not to go beyond the mountains" but remain
in Italy to protect the interests of his order. He further persuaded
him to come to Rome and preach before the Pope and cardinals, thinking
that the personality of the saint might perchance win their favour.
Anxious to do honour to his patron, Francis composed a sermon and
committed it to memory with great care. When the slight, grey figure,
the dust of the Umbrian roads still clinging to his sandals, stood up
in the spacious hall of the Lateran before Honorius and the venerable
cardinals, Ugolino watched with anxious eyes the course of events. In
mortal fear "he supplicated God with all his being that the simplicity
of the holy man should not become an object of ridicule," and
resigning himself to Providence he waited. There was a moment of
suspense, of awful silence, for Francis had completely forgotten the
sermon he had so carefully learned by heart. But his humility
befriended him; stepping forward a few paces with a gesture of regret
he quietly confessed what had happened, and then, as if indeed
inspired, he broke forth into one of his most eloquent sermons. "He
preached with such fervour of spirit," says Celano, "that being unable
to contain himself for joy whilst proclaiming the Word of God, he
moved even his feet in the manner of one dancing, not for play, but
driven thereto by the strength of the divine love that burnt within
him: therefore he incited none to laughter but drew tears of sorrow
from all."[42]
When Francis had been preaching for some time a certain weariness
seems to have possessed him, and he would then, "leaving behind him
the tumult of the multitude," retire to some secret place to dwell in
constant prayer and heavenly contemplation. There were many of these
refuges, but none so isolated from the world as the lofty mountain of
La Vernia, which had been given to him by Count Orlando Cattani of
Chiusi, whose ruined castle can still be seen on a spur of the
Apennines just below. The "Sacred Mount" rises clear above the valley
of the Casentino to the height of 4000 feet, between the sources of
the Tiber and the Arno, and looks straight down upon one of the
perfect views in Tuscany which Dante speaks of:
"The rills that glitter down the grassy slopes
Of Casentino, making fresh and soft
The banks whereby they glide to Arno's stream."
Range upon range of splendid hills falling away gradually to the south
gather in their folds the pale-tinted mists of early summer, and seem
to guard the valley from other lands, so intense is the feeling of
remoteness. From the white towns gleaming like pearls on their green
slopes above the young Arno cradled by poplars, is seen the sharp
outline of La Vernia against the sky, always black, gloomy, and
defiant above the cornfields and vineyards. Its summit, covered with
fir-trees, straight and close together, appears like a great whale
that has rested there since the days of the flood. Below the forest
lie huge boulders of rock and yawning chasms, upheaved, says the
legend, during the earthquake at the time of the Crucifixion. To this
solitary place came Francis in the year 1224 to celebrate by forty
days of fasting and prayer the feast of St. Michael the Archangel,
accompanied by Fra Leo "the little sheep of God," Fra Angelo "the
gentle knight," Fra Illuminato, and Fra Masseo. On former visits he
had been content to stay in a cell beneath a "fair beech tree" built
for him by Count Orlando close to where the brethren lived; but this
time he chose a spot on the loneliest side of the mountain where no
sound could be heard. To reach it the brethren had to throw a bridge
across a "horrible and fearful cleft in a huge rock," and after they
had fashioned him a rough shelter they left him in utter solitude;
only once in the day and once at night Fra Leo was permitted to bring
a little bread and water which he left by the bridge, stealing
silently away unless called by Francis. Near this lonely retreat a
falcon had built a nest and used to wake him regularly a little before
matins with his cry, beating his wings at his cell until the saint
rose to recite his orations. Francis, charmed with so exact a clock,
obeyed the summons, and such was the sympathy between the friends
that the falcon always knew when he was weary or ill, and would then
"gently, and like a discreet and compassionate person, utter his cry
later ... and besides this, in the day would sometimes stay quite
tamely with him." The birds, which had shown joy on his arrival,
filled the woods with their sweetest song while the angels visited
him, sometimes playing such beautiful music on the viol that "his soul
almost melted away." But Francis, honoured as he was by celestial
spirits, and by man and beast, had still to receive the greatest sign
of grace ever accorded to a saint, and the story has been gravely
related by ancient and modern writers for seven centuries.
The moment had certainly arrived for accomplishing the high designs of
Providence, for Francis through prayer, fasting, and constant
contemplation on the Passion of Christ, had become like some spiritual
being untrammelled by the bonds of the flesh. It was on the feast of
the Exaltation of the Cross while praying on the mountain side, that
the marvellous vision was vouchsafed to him. The dawn had hardly
broken when "he beheld a Seraph who had six wings, which shone with
such splendour that they seemed on fire, and with swift flight he came
above the face of the Blessed Francis who was gazing upwards to the
sky, and from the midst of the wings of the Seraph appeared suddenly
the likeness of a man crucified with hands and feet stretched out in
the manner of a cross, and they were marked with wounds like those of
Our Lord Jesus Christ, and two wings of the said Seraph were above the
head, two were spread as though flying, and two veiled the whole
body."[43] Flames of fire lit up the mountains and the valley during
the vision, and some muleteers seeing "the bright light shining
through the windows of the inn where they slept, saddled and loaded
their beasts thinking the day had broke." When Francis rose from his
knees and looked up to the sky where the seraph had been and where now
the sun was rising over the Casentino and her steepled towns, he bore
on his body the marks of the Crucified. His hands and feet appeared as
though pierced through with nails, the heads being on the inside of
the hands and on the upper part of the feet, while blood flowed from
the wound in his side. Thus transformed by his surpassing love for
Christ, Francis returned to his four companions and recounted to them
his vision, trying all the while out of his deep humility to hide from
them the signs of the Stigmata. Before returning to Assisi he bade
them a final farewell, for he knew this was the last time he would
come with them to La Vernia. The scene is beautifully pictured in a
letter of Fra Masseo, which, as far as we know, is here translated for
the first time.
JESUS, MARY MY HOPE.
"Brother Masseo, sinner, and unworthy servant of Jesus Christ,
companion of Brother Francis of Assisi, man most dear unto God, peace
and greetings to all brethren and sons of the great patriarch Francis,
standard-bearer of Christ.
"The great patriarch having determined to bid a last farewell to this
sacred mount on the 30th of September 1224, day of the feast of St
Jerome, the Count Orlando of Chiusi sent to him an ass in order that
he might ride thereon, forasmuch as he could not put his feet to the
ground by reason of their being sore wounded and pierced with nails.
In the morning early having heard mass, according to his wont, in
Sta. Maria degli Angeli,[44] he called all the brethren into the
chapel, and bade them in holy obedience to live together in charity,
to be diligent in prayer, always to tend the said place carefully, and
to officiate therein day and night. Moreover he commended the whole of
the sacred mount to all his brethren present, as well as to those to
come, exhorting them to have a care that the said place should not be
profaned, but always reverenced and respected, and he gave his
benediction to all inhabitants thereof, and to all who bore thereunto
reverence and respect. On the other hand, he said: 'Let them be
confounded who are wanting in respect to the said place, and from God
let them expect a well-merited chastisement.' To me he said: 'Know,
Brother Masseo, that my intention is that on this mount shall live
friars having the fear of God before their eyes, and chosen among the
best of my order, let therefore the superiors strive to send here the
worthiest friars; ah! ah! ah! Brother Masseo, I will say no more.'
"He then commanded and ordered me, Brother Masseo, and Brother Angelo,
Brother Silvestro and Brother Illuminato, to have a special care of
the place where that great miracle of the holy Stigmata occurred.[45]
Having said that, he exclaimed 'Farewell, farewell, farewell, Brother
Masseo.' Then turning to Brother Angelo, he said: 'Farewell,
farewell,' and the same to Brother Silvestro and Brother Illuminato:
'Remain in peace, most dear sons, farewell, I depart from you in the
body, but I leave my heart with you; I depart with Brother Lamb of
God, and am going to Sta. Maria degli Angeli[46] never to return here
more; I am going, farewell, farewell, farewell to all! Farewell,
sacred mount. Farewell, mount Alvernia. Farewell, mount of the angels.
Farewell, beloved Brother Falcon, I thank thee for the charity thou
didst show me, farewell! Farewell, Sasso Spicco,[47] never more shall
I come to visit thee, farewell, farewell, farewell, oh rock which
didst receive me within thine entrails, the devil being cheated by
thee, never more shall we behold one another![48] Farewell, Sta.
Maria degli Angeli, mother of the eternal Word. I commend to thee
these my sons.'
"Whilst our beloved father was speaking these words, our eyes poured
forth torrents of tears, so that he also wept as he turned to go,
taking with him our hearts, and we remained orphans because of the
departure of such a father.
"I, Brother Masseo, have written this with tears. May God bless us."
For two years after his return from La Vernia, Francis, bearing the
marks of the Seraph, continued to preach and visit the lazar houses,
although he was so ill and worn by fasts and vigils that his
companions marvelled how the spirit could still survive in so frail a
body. Moreover he had become nearly blind, remaining sometimes sixty
days and more unable to see the light of day or even the light of
fire. It was to him a martyrdom that while walking in the woods led by
one of the brethren, the scenes he loved so well should be hidden by
this awful darkness. He could only dream of the past when he had
journeyed from one walled town to another through the valley of
Spoleto; sometimes rejoicing in the brilliant sunshine, often watching
the storms sweeping so gloriously over the land in summer when the
rocky beds of torrents were filled with rushing water and clouds cast
purple shadows across the plain. Now those wanderings were over, and
the spirit imprisoned within him found more than ever an outlet in
music, and "the strain of divine murmurs which fell upon his ears,
broke out in Gallic songs."
He went on his way singing to meet death, and the greater his
sufferings the sweeter were the melodies he composed. It was during an
access of his infirmities and blindness that St. Clare induced him to
take some days of rest in a small wattle hut she had built in the
olive grove close to her convent of San Damiano. After nights of
bitter tribulation, of bodily suffering, passed in earnest prayer, he
arose one morning with his heart full of new praises to the Creator.
Meditating for a while he exclaimed, "Altissimo, omnipotente bono
Signore," and then composed a chaunt thereon, and taught it to his
companions so that they might proclaim and sing it. His soul was so
comforted and full of joy that he desired to send for Brother
Pacifico, who in the world had borne the title of King of Verse and
had been a most renowned troubadour, and to give to him as companions
some of the brethren to go about the world preaching and singing
praises to the Lord ... he willed also that when the preaching was
ended all together should as minstrels of God sing lauds unto Him. And
at the close of the singing he ordered that the preacher should say to
the people: "We are the minstrels of the Lord God wherefore we desire
to be rewarded by you, to wit, that you persevere in true
repentance."[49]
It was the Canticle of the Sun which Francis composed in his days of
blindness, leaving it as an undying message to the world, an appeal
that they should not cease to love the things he had brought to their
knowledge during those earlier days of his ministry among them. He
poured the teaching of a life-time into a song of passionate praise to
the Creator of a world he had loved and found so beautiful; and the
sustained melody of the long, rolling lines charm our fancy like the
sound of waves during calm nights breaking upon the beach. The poem,
though rough and unhewn, still remains one of the marvels of early
literature, and to Francis belongs the honour of setting his seal on
the religious poetry of his country. His was the first glow of colour
proclaiming the dawn--the first notes of song which, coming from
Assisi, passed along the ranks of Italian poets to be taken up by
Dante in "full-throated ease." We give the Canticle of the Sun in the
exquisite version of Matthew Arnold.
"O most high, almighty, good Lord God, to Thee belong praise, glory,
honour, and all blessing!
"Praised be my Lord God with all His creatures; and specially our
brother the sun, who brings us the day, and who brings us the light;
fair is he, and shining with a very great splendour: O Lord, he
signifies to us Thee!
"Praised be my Lord for our sister the moon, and for the stars, the
which he has set clear and lovely in heaven.
"Praised be our Lord for our brother the wind, and for air and cloud,
calms and all weather, by the which thou upholdest in life all
creatures.
"Praised be my Lord for our sister water, who is very serviceable unto
us, and humble, and precious, and clean.
"Praised be my Lord for our brother fire, through whom thou givest us
light in the darkness; and he is bright, and pleasant, and very
mighty, and strong.
"Praised be my Lord for our mother the earth, the which doth sustain
us and keep us, and bringeth forth divers fruits and flowers of many
colours, and grass.
"Praised be my Lord for all those who pardon one another for his
love's sake, and who endure weakness and tribulation; blessed are they
who peaceably shall endure, for Thou, O most Highest, shalt give them
a crown![50]
"Praised be my Lord for our sister, the death of the body, from whom
no man escapeth. Woe to him who dieth in mortal sin! Blessed are they
who are found walking by Thy most holy will, for the second death
shall have no power to do them harm.
"Praise ye and bless ye the Lord, and give thanks unto Him, and serve
Him with great humility."
[Illustration: THE ARMS OF THE FRANCISCANS.]
FOOTNOTES:
[18] For a true picture of the condition of Italian towns, torn by
strife, decimated by famine, and suffering from leprosy brought by the
crusaders, see Brewer's admirable preface in vol. iv. of the
_Monumenta Franciscana_.
[19] The first tournament took place at Bologna in 1147.
[20] Folgore di San Gimignano, translated by D. G. Rossetti.
[21] These were the first troubadours to visit the Italian courts,
driven from Provence by the crusades against the Albigenses.
[22] A certain Bernardo Moriconi, leaving his brother to carry on the
business at Lucca, then famous for its manufacture of silk stuffs,
came and settled at Assisi where he got the nickname Bernardone--the
big Bernard. Whether in allusion to his person or to his prosperity,
we cannot say, but the family name was lost sight of and his son was
known as Pietro Bernardone.
[23] Celano. _Vita_ I. cap. 1.
[24] Ruskin. _The two paths_: Lecture III.
[25] Celano. _Vita_ I. cap. 2.
[26] "Le vide lamentable de sa vie lui etait tout a coup apparu; il
etait effraye de cette solitude d'une grande ame, dans laquelle il n'y
a point d'autel." Paul Sabatier. _Vie de S. Francois d'Assise_, p. 17.
[27] From a 15th century translation of the will of St. Francis. See
_Monumenta Franciscana_. Chronicles edited by J. S. Brewer vol. iv. p.
562.
[28] Life of Beato Egidio in the _Little Flowers of St. Francis_.
[29] Life of Beato Egidio in the _Little Flowers of St. Francis_.
[30] One of the most beautiful stories in the _Fioretti_ (chapter
xxxiv.) recounts how St. Louis, King of France, visited Beato Egidio
at Perugia. The king and the poor friar kneeling together in the
courtyard of the convent, embracing each other like familiar friends,
is a picture such as only Umbrian literature could have left us. There
was absolute silence between the two, yet we are told St. Louis
returned to his kingdom and Egidio to his cell with "marvellous
content and consolation" in their souls.
[31] See _Supra_, p. 47.
[32] Quoted by Sigonius in his work on the Bishops of Bologna. _Opera
omnia_, v. iii., translated by Canon Knox Little. _Life of St. Francis
of Assisi_, p. 179.
[33] _Speculum Perfectionis_, cap. cv., edited by Paul Sabatier.
[34] _Fioretti_, cap. xiii.
[35] To franciscan influence must surely be traced the rise of the
Flagellants at Perugia in 1265.
[36] See _Histoire de Sainte Elizabeth_, Comte de Montalembert, pp.
71, 72.
[37] It is related that when in 1216 some Franciscans went on a
mission to Germany the only word they knew was "Ja," which they used
upon every occasion. In one town they were asked if they were heretics
preaching a rival faith to catholicism, and as they continued to say
"Ja, Ja," the citizens threw them into prison, and after beating them
cruelly drove them ignominiously from the country. The account they
gave of their experience to the other friars at Assisi created such a
panic that they were often heard in their prayers to implore God to
deliver them from the barbarity of the Teutons.
[38] Celano. _Vita_ I. cap. xxi.
[39] Paul Sabatier. _Vie de S. Francis d'Assise_, p. 205.
[40] _Vita di S. Francesco_, p. 76. Edizione Amoni (1888. Roma).
[41] Celano, a learned nobleman from Celano in the Abruzzi, joined the
Order in 1215, and gives by far the most charming and vivid account of
St Francis, for besides knowing him well he had the gift of writing in
no ordinary degree.
[42] _Vita_ I. cap. xxvii.
[43] _Vita di S. Francesco_, da S. Bonaventura, p. 148, Edizione
Amoni.
[44] This was a small chapel built for St. Francis by Count Orlando,
and must not be confounded with the church of the same name near
Assisi.
[45] The earnest wishes of the saint are to this day carried out by
faithful friars who, even through the terrible winter months, live at
La Vernia, suffering privation and cold with cheerfulness. At midnight
a bell calls them to sing matins in the chapel of the Stigmata
connected with the convent by an open colonnade, down which the
procession files, following a crucifix and lanterns. When the service
has ceased, the monks flit like ghosts behind the altar while the
lights are extinguished and in the gloom comes the sound of clashing
chains. For an hour they chastise themselves: then the torches are
relit, the chanting is resumed, and calmly they pass down the corridor
towards their cells. Moonlight may stream into the colonnade across
the dark forms, or gusts of wind drive the snow in heaps before them,
but the chanting is to be heard, and the monotonous cries of _ora pro
nobis_ break the awful solitude of night throughout the year upon the
mountain of La Vernia.
[46] Here reference is made to the Portiuncula, near Assisi.
[47] The Sasso Spicco, which still can be seen at La Vernia, is a
block of rock rising high above the mountain ridge, and seems to hang
suspended in the air. It forms a roof over dark and cavernous places
where St. Francis loved to pray, often spending his nights there with
stones for his bed.
[48] The _Fioretti_ relates that once while St. Francis was praying on
the edge of a precipice, not far from the spot where he had received
the Stigmata, suddenly the devil appeared in terrible form amidst the
loud roar of a furious tempest. St. Francis, unable to flee or to
endure the ferocious aspect of the devil, turned his face and whole
body to the rock to which he clung; and the rock, as though it had
been soft wax, received the impress of the saint and sheltered him.
Thus by the aid of God he escaped.
[49] _Speculum Perfectionis_, cap. c., edited by Paul Sabatier.
[50] St. Francis composed this verse later on the occasion of a
quarrel which arose between the Bishop of Assisi and the Podesta. The
last couplet was added at the Portiuncula while he was on his
death-bed.