CHAPTER II

_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 mediæval 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

"Provençal 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 Provençal 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 mediæval 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.

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 Provençal, 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 treizième siècle était prêt pour comprendre la voix du poète de l'Ombrie; le sermon aux oiseaux clôt le règne de l'art byzantin et de la pensée dont il était l'image. C'est la fin du dogmatisme et de l'autorité; 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."

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 était tout à coup apparu; il était effrayé de cette solitude d'une grande âme, dans laquelle il n'y a point d'autel." Paul Sabatier. _Vie de S. François 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 _Suprà_, 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 Podestà. The last couplet was added at the Portiuncula while he was on his death-bed.