lite linha RHHI A 1,283,877 tidl.handmade Knitsinddeliuidifilipiinteisiisid:1Hinn!!IRN! KI S LIBRARIES THE UN .. : MICHIGAN OF MICHIGIAN THE UNIVERS LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI BOOKS BY PAUL SABATIER PUBLISHED BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS Life of St. Francis of Assisi $2.50 Modernism net 1.25 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS OF ASSISI BY PAUL SABATIER Qui vere monachus est nihil reputat esse suum nisi citharam GIOACCHINO DI FIORE in Apoc. 183 TRANSLATED BY LOUISE SEYMOUR HOUGHTON NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1917 KrR 4 BX 4200 F 6 $11:3 1917 COPYRIGHT, 1894, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 2. SORSONER $ TO THE STRASBURGHERS Friends! At last here is this book which I told you about 80 long ago. The result is small indeed in relation to the endeavor, as I, alas ! see better than anyone. The widow of the Gospel put only one mite into the alms-box of the temple, but this mite, they tell us, won her Paradise. Accept the mite that I offer you to-day as God accepted that of the poor woman, looking not at her offering, but at her love, Feci quod potui, omnia dedi. Do not chide me too severely for this long delay, for you are somewhat its cause. Many times a day at Florence, at Assisi, at Rome, I have for- gotten the document I had to study. Something in me seemed to have gone to flutter at your windows, and sometimes they opened. One evening at St. Damian I forgot myself and remained long after sunset. An old monk came to warn me that the sanctuary was closed. “Per Bacco !” he gently murmured as he led me away, all ready to receive my confidence, “sognava d'amore o di tristitia ?” Well, yes. I was dreaming of love and of sad ness, for I was dreaming of Strasbourg. 520005 based dusta TABLE OF CONTENTS PAOB INTRODUCTION, CHAPTER I. YOUTH, CHAPTER II. STAGES OF CONVERSION, i 15 CHAPTER HII. THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209, 28 CHAPTER IV. STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPHS, 53 CHAPTER V. FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE, 171 CHAPTER VI. ST. FRANCIS AND INNOCENT III., 88 X CHAPTER VII. RIVO-TORTO, 103 viii TABLE OF CONTENI'S PAGE CHAPTER VIII. PORTIUNCULA, 120 CHAPTER 1X. SANTA CLARA, 147 CHAPTER X. * FIRST ATTEMPTS TO REACH THE INFIDELS, 168 CHAPTER XI. THE INNER MAN AND WONDER-WORKING, 183 CHAPTER XII. ☆ THE CHAPTER-GENERAL OF 1217, 198 CHAPTER XIII. * ST. DOMINIC AND ST. FRANCIS, 217 . CHAPTER XIV. Y THE CRISIS OF THE ORDER, 239 CHAPTER XV. . THE RULE OF 1221, 252 CHAPTER XVI. THE BROTHERS MINOR AND LEARNING, 271 CHAPTER XVII. THE STIGMATA, 287 TABLE OF CONTENTS ix PAGR CHAPTER XVIII. THE CANTICLE OF THE SUN, X 297 > CHAPTER XIX. THE LAST YEAR, . 308 CHAPTER XX. FRANCIS'S WILL AND DEATH, 333 CRITICAL STUDY OF THE SOURCES, 347 APPENDIX. CRITICAL STUDY OF THE STIGMATA AND OF THE INDULGENCE OF AUGUST 2, 433 INTRODUCTION In the renascence of history which is in a manner the characteristic of our time, the Middle Ages have been the object of peculiar fondness with both criticism and erudition. We rummage all the dark corners of the libraries, we bring old parchments to light, and in the zeal and ardor we put into our search there is an inde- finable touch of piety. These efforts to make the past live again reveal not merely our curiosity, or the lack of power to grapple with great philosophic problems, they are a token of wisdom and modesty; we are beginning to feel that the present has its roots in the past, and that in the fields of politics and religion, as in others, slow, modest, persevering toil is that which has the best results. There is also a token of love in this. We love our ancestors of five or six centuries ago, and we mingle not a little emotion and gratitude with this love. So, if one may hope everything of a son who loves his parents, we must not despair of an age that loves history. The Middle Ages form an organic period in the life of humanity. Like all powerful organisms the period began with a long and mysterious gestation ; it had its youth, its manhood, its decrepitude. The end of the twelfth century and the beginning of the thirteenth mark its full expansion; it is the twentieth year of life, with its poetry, its dreams, its enthusiasm, its generosity, its dar- ing. Love overflowed with vigor; men everywhere had xii INTRODUCTION but one desire to devote themselves to some great and holy cause. Curiously enough, though Europe was more parcelled out than ever, it felt a new thrill run through its entire extent. There was what we might call a state of Eu- ropean consciousness. In ordinary periods each people has its own interests, its tendencies, its tears, and its joys; but let a time of crisis come, and the true unity of the human family will suddenly make itself felt with a strength never be- fore suspected. Each body of water has its own cur- rents, but when the hurricane is abroad they mysteriously intermingle, and from the ocean to the remotest mountain lake the same tremor will upheave them all. It was thus in '89, it was thus also in the thirteenth century. Never was there less of frontier, never, either before or since, such a mingling of nationalities; and at the present day, with all our highways and railroads, the people live more apart. The great movement of thought of the thirteenth century is above all a religious movement, presenting a double character—it is popular and it is laic. It comes out from the heart of the people, and it looks athwart many uncertainties at nothing less than wresting the sacred things from the hands of the clergy. The conservatives of our time who turn to the thir- 1 i The mendicant orders were in their origin a true International. When in the spring of 1216 St. Dominic assembled his friars at Notre Dame de la Prouille, they were found to be sixteen in number, and among them Castilians, Navarese, Normans, French, Languedocians, and even English and Germans. Heretics travelled all over Europe, and nowhere do we find them checked by the diversity of languages. Arnold of Brescia, for example, the famous Tribune of Rome, appeared in France and Switzerland and in the heart of Germany. INTRODUCTION xiii teenth century as to the golden age of authoritative faith make a strange mistake. If it is especially the century of saints, it is also that of heretics. We shall soon see that the two words are not so contradictory as might appear; it is enough for the moment to point out that the Church had never been more powerful nor more threatened. There was a genuine attempt at a religious revolution, which, if it had succeeded, would have ended in a universal priesthood, in the proclamation of the rights of the individual conscience. The effort failed, and though later on the Revolution made us all kings, neither the thirteenth century nor the Reformation was able to make us all priests. Herein, no doubt, lies the essential contradiction of our lives and that which periodically puts our national institutions in peril. Politically emancipated, we are not morally or re- ligiously free. The thirteenth century with juvenile ardor undertook this revolution, which has not yet reached its end. In the north of Europe it became incarnate in cathedrals, in the south, in saints. The cathedrals were the lay churches of the thirteenth century. Built by the people for the people, they were originally the true common house of our old cities. Mu- 1 1 The Reformation only substituted the authority of the book for that of the priest; it is a change of dynasty and nothing more. As to the majority of those who to-day call themselves free-thinkers, they confuse religious freedom with irreligion ; they choose not to see that in religion as in politics, between a royalty based on divine right and anarchy there is room for a government which may be as strong as the first and a better guarantee of freedom than the second. The spirit of the older time put God outside of the world ; the sovereignty outside of the people ; authority outside of the conscience. The spirit of the new times has the contrary tendency; it denies neither God nor sovereignty nor authority, but it sees them where they really are. xiv INTRODUOTION seums, granaries, chambers of commerce, halls of justice, depositories of archives, and even labor exchanges, they were all these at once. That art of the Middle Ages which Victor Hugo and Viollet-le-Duc have taught us to understand and love was the visible expression of the enthusiasm of a people who were achieving communal liberty. Very far from being the gift of the Church, it was in its beginning an unconscious protest against the hieratic, impassive, esote- ric art of the religious orders. We find only laymen in the long list of master-workmen and painters who have left us the innumerable Gothic monuments which stud the soil of Europe. Those artists of genius who, like those of Greece, knew how to speak to the populace without be- ing common, were for the most part humble workmen; they found their inspiration not in the formulas of the masters of monastic art, but in constant communion with the very soul of the nation. Therefore this renascence, in its most profound features, concerns less the archa- ology or the architecture than the history of a country. While in the northern countries the people were build- ing their own churches, and finding in their enthusiasm an art which was new, original, complete, in the south, above the official, clerical priesthood of divine right they were greeting and consecrating a new priesthood, that of the saints The priest of the thirteenth century is the antithesis of the saint, he is almost always his enemy. Separated by the holy unction from the rest of mankind, inspiring awo as the representative of an all-powerful God, able by a few signs to perform unheard-of mysteries, with a word to change bread into flesh and wine into blood, he ap- peared as a sort of idol which can do all things for or against you and before which you have only to adore and tremble, INTRODUCTION XV The saint, on the contrary, was one whose mission was proclaimed by nothing in his apparel, but whose life and words made themselves felt in all hearts and consciences; he was one who, with no cure of souls in the Church, felt himself suddenly impelled to lift up his voice. The child of the people, he knew all their material and moral woes, and their mysterious echo sounded in his own heart. Like the ancient prophet of Israel, he heard an. imperious voice saying to him : “Go and speak to the children of my people.” “Ah, Lord God, I am but a child, I know not how to speak.” “Say not, I am but a child, for thou shalt go to all those to whom I shall send thee. Behold I have set thee to-day as a strong city, a pillar of iron and a wall of brass against the kings of Judah, against its princes and against its priests.” These thirteenth-century saints were in fact true prophets. Apostles like St. Paul, not as the result of a canonical consecration, but by the interior order of the Spirit, they were the witnesses of liberty against au- thority The Calabrian seer, Gioacchino di Fiore, hailed the new-born revolution; he believed in its success and pro- claimed to the wondering world the advent of a new min- istry. He was mistaken. When the priest sees himself vanquished by the prophet he suddenly changes his method. He takes him under his protection, he introduces his harangues into the sacred canon, he throws over his shoulders the priestly chasuble. The days pass on, The days pass on, the years roll by, and the moment comes when the heedless crowd no longer distinguishes between them, and it ends by believ- ing the prophet to be an emanation of the clergy. This is one of the bitterest ironies of history. Francis of Assisi is pre-eminently the saint of the Mid- dle Ages. Owing nothing to church or school he was xvi INTRODUCTION ! truly theodidact, and if he perhaps did not perceive the revolutionary bearing of his preaching, he at least always refused to be ordained priest. He divined the superi- ority of the spiritual priesthood. The charm of his life is that, thanks to reliable docu- ments, we find the man behind the wonder worker. We find in him not merely noble actions, we find in him a life in the true meaning of the word; I mean, we feel in him both development and struggle. How mistaken are the annals of the Saints in repre- senting him as from the very cradle surrounded with aureole and nimbus! As if the finest and most manly of spectacles were not that of the man who conquers his soul hour after hour, fighting first against himself, against the suggestions of egoism, idleness, discouragement, then at the moment when he might believe himself victorious, finding in the champions attracted by his ideal those who are destined if not to bring about its complete ruin, at least to give it its most terrible blows. Poor Francis! The last years of his life were indeed a via dolorosa as painful as that where his master sank down under the weight of the cross; for it is still a joy to die for one's ideal, but what bitter pain to look on in advance at the apotheosis of one's body, while seeing one's soul-I would say his thought-misunderstood and frustrated. If we ask for the origins of his idea we find them ex- clusively among the common people of his time; he is the incarnation of the Italian soul at the beginning of the thirteenth century, as Dante was to be its incarnation a hundred years later. He was of the people and the people recognized them- selves in him. He had their poetry and their aspirations, | Nemo ostendebat mihi quod deberem facere, sed ipse Altissimus revela. vit mihi quod deberem vivore secundem formam sancti Evangeliz. Testa mentum Fr. INTRODUCTION xvii he espoused their claims, and the very name of his insti- tute had at first a political signification : in Assisi as in most other Italian towns there were majores and minores, the popolo grasso and the popolo minuto; he resolutely placed himself among the latter. This political side of his apostolate needs to be clearly apprehended if we would understand its amazing success and the wholly unique character of the Franciscan movement in its beginning. As to its attitude toward the Church, it was that of filial obedience. This may perhaps appear strange at first as regards an unauthorized preacher who comes speaking to the world in the name of his own immediate personal inspiration. But did not most of the men of '89 believe themselves good and loyal subjects of Louis XVI. ? The Church was to our ancestors what the fatherland is to us; we may wish to remodel its government, over- turn its administration, change its constitution, but we do not think ourselves less good patriots for that. In the same way, in an age of simple faith when re- ligious beliefs seemed to be in the very fibre and flesh of humanity, Dante, without ceasing to be a good Catholic, could attack the clergy and the court of Rome with a violence that has never been surpassed. St. Francis so surely believed that the Church had become unfaithful to her mission that he could speak in his symbolic lan- guage of the widowhood of his Lady Poverty, who from Christ's time to his own had found no husband. How could he better have declared his purposes or revealed his dreams? What he purposed was far more than the foundation of an order, and it is to do him great wrong thus to restrict his endeavor. He longed for a true awakening of the Church in the name of the evangelical ideal which he had regained. All Europe awoke with a start when it heard of these penitents from a little Umbrian town. xviii INTRODUOTION It was reported that they had craved a strange privilege from the court of Rome : that of possessing nothing. Men saw them pass by, earning their bread by the labor of their hands, accepting only the bare necessities of bodily sustenance from them to whom they had given with lavish hands the bread of life. The people lifted up their heads, breathing in with deep inspirations the airs of a springtime upon which was already floating the perfume of new flowers. Here and there in the world there are many souls capable of all heroism, if only they can see before them a true leader. St. Francis became for these the guide they had longed for, and whatever was best in humanity at that time leaped to follow in his footsteps. This movement, which was destined to result in the constitution of a new family of monks, was in the begin- ning anti-monastic. It is not rare for history to have similar contradictions to record. The meek Galilean who preached the religion of a personal revelation, with- out ceremonial or dogmatic law, triumphed only on con- dition of being conquered, and of permitting his words of spirit and life to be confiscated by a church essen- tially dogmatic and sacerdotal. In the same way the Franciscan movement was orig- inally, if not the protest of the Christian consciousness against monachism, at least the recognition of an ideal singularly higher than that of the clergy of that time. Let us picture to ourselves the Italy of the beginning of the thirteenth century with its divisions, its perpetual warfare, its depopulated country districts, the impossi- bility of tilling the fields except in the narrow circle which the garrisons of the towns might protect; all these cities from the greatest to the least occupied in watching for the most favorable moment for falling upon and pillaging their neighbors ; sieges terminated by un- INTRODUCTION xix speakable atrocities, and after all this, famine, speedily followed by pestilence to complete the devastation. Then let us picture to ourselves the rich Benedictine abbeys, veritable fortresses set upon the hill-tops, whence they seemed to command all the surrounding plains. There was nothing surprising in their prosperity. Shielded by their inviolability, they were in these dis- ordered times the only refuge of peaceful souls and timid hearts. The monks were in great majority de- serters from life, who for motives entirely aside from religion had taken refuge behind the only walls which at this period were secure. Overlook this as we may, forget as we may the demor- alization and ignorance of the inferior clergy, the si-nony and the vices of the prelates, the coarseness and avarice of the monks, judging the Church of the thirteenth cen- tury only by those of her sons who do her the most honor; none the less are these the anchorites who flee into the desert to escape from wars and vices, pausing only when they are very sure that none of the world's noises will in- terrupt their meditations. Sometimes they will draw away with them hundreds of imitators, to the solitudes of Clairvaux, of the Chartreuse, of Vallombrosa, of the Camaldoli; but even when they are a multitude they are alone; for they are dead to the world and to their breth- ren. Each cell is a desert, on whose threshold they cry O beata solitudo, O sola beatitudo. 1 The wealthiest monasteries of France are of the twelfth century or were enlarged at that time: Arles, S. Gilles, S. Sernin, Cluny, Vézelay, Brioude, Issoire, Paray-le-Monial. The same was the case in Italy. Down to the year 1000,1,108 monasteries had been founded in France. The eleventh century saw the birth of 326 and the twelfth of 702. The convents of Mount Athos in their present state give us a very accurate notion of the great monasteries of Europe at ühe close of the twelfth century. XX INTRODUCTION The book of the Imitation is the picture of all that is purest in this cloistered life. But is this abstinence from action truly Christian ? No, replied St. Francis. He for his part would do like Jesus, and we may say that his life is an imitation of Christ singularly more real than that of Thomas à Kempis. Jesus went indeed into the desert, but only that he might find in prayer and communion with the heavenly Father the inspiration and strength necessary for keep- ing up the struggle against evil. Far from avoiding the multitude, he sought them out to enlighten, console, and convert them. This is what St. Francis desired to imitate. More than once he felt the seduction of the purely contemplative life, but each time his own spirit warned him that this was only a disguised selfishness; that one saves oneself i only in saving others. When he saw suffering, wretchedness, corruption, in- stead of fleeing he stopped to bind up, to heal, feeling in his heart the surging of waves of compassion. He not only preached love to others; he himself was ravished with it; he sang it, and what was of greater value, he lived it. There had indeed been preachers of love before his day, but most generally they had appealed to the lowest selfishness. They had thought to triumph by proving that in fact to give to others is to put one's money out at a usurious interest. “Give to the poor," said St. Peter Chrysologus, "that you may give to yourself; give him a crumb in order to receive a loaf; give him a shelter to re- ceive heaven.” 1 St. Petrus Chrysologus, sermo viii., de jejunio et eleemosyna. Da pauperi ut des tibi : da micam ut accipias totum panem ; da tectum, accipe colum. INTRODUCTION xxi There was nothing like this in Francis; his charity is not selfishness, it is love. He went, not to the whole, who need no physician, but to the sick, the forgotten, the dis- dained. He dispensed the treasures of his heart accord- ing to the need and reserved the best of himself for the poorest and the most lost, for lepers and thieves. The gaps in his education were of marvellous service to him. More learned, the formal logic of the schools would have robbed him of that flower of simplicity which is the great charm of his life; he would have seen the whole extent of the sore of the Church, and would no doubt have despaired of healing it. If he had known the ecclesiastical discipline he would have felt obliged to ob- serve it; but thanks to his ignorance he could often vio- late it without knowing it, and be a heretic quite una- wares. We can now determine to what religious family St. Francis belongs. Looking at the question from a somewhat high stand- point we see that in the last analysis minds, like relig- ious systems, are to be found in two great families, stand- ing, so to say, at the two poles of thought. These two poles are only mathematical points, they do not exist in concrete reality ; but for all that we can set them down on the chart of philosophic and moral ideas. There are religions which look toward divinity and re- ligions which look toward man. Here again the line of demarcation between the two families is purely ideal and artificial ; they often so mingle and blend with one an- other that we have much difficulty in distinguishing them, especially in the intermediate zone in which our civiliza- 1 Psy what right did he begin to preach ? By what right did he, a mere deacon, admit to profession and cut off the hair of a young girl of eighteen? That is an episcopal function, one which can only devolve even upon priests by an express commission. xxii INTRODUCTION masses. tion finds its place; but if we go toward the poles we shall find their characteristics growing gradually distinct. In the religions which look toward divinity all effort is concentrated on worship, and especially on sacrifice. The end aimed at is a change in the disposition of the gods. They are mighty kings whose support or favor one must purchase by gifts. Most pagan religions belong to this category and phari- saic Judaism as well. This is also the tendency of cer- tain Catholics of the old school for whom the great thing is to appease God or to buy the protection of the Vir- gin and the saints by means of prayers, candles, and . The other religions look toward man; their effort is di- rected to the heart and conscience with the purpose of transforming them. Sacrifice disappears, or rather it changes from the exterior to the interior. God is con- ceived of as a father, always ready to welcome him who comes to him. Conversion, perfection, sanctification be- come the pre-eminent religious acts. Worship and prayer cease to be incantations and become reflection, medita- tion, virile effort; while in religions of the first class the clergy have an essential part, as intermediaries between heaven and earth, in those of the second they have none, each conscience entering into direct relations with God. It was reserved to the prophets of Israel to formulate, with a precision before unknown, the starting-point of spiritual worship. Bring no more vain offerings; I have a horror of incense, Your new moons, your Sabbaths, and your assemblies ; When you multiply prayers I will not hearken. Your hands are full of blood, Wash you, make you clean, INTRODUCTION xxiii Put away from before my eyes the evil of your ways, Cease to do evil, Learn to do well.1 With Isaiah these vehement apostrophes are but flashes of genius, but with Jesus the interior change be- comes at once the principle and the end of the religious life. His promises were not for those who were right with the ceremonial law, or who offered the greatest num- ber of sacrifices, but for the pure in heart, for men of good will. These considerations are not perhaps without their use in showing the spiritual ancestry of the Saint of Assisi. For him, as for St. Paul and St. Augustine, conversion was a radical and complete change, the act of will by which man wrests himself from the slavery of sin and places himself under the yoke of divine authority. Thenceforth prayer, become a necessary act of life, ceases to be a magic formula ; it is an impulse of the heart, it is reflection and meditation rising above the commonplaces of this mortal life, to enter into the mystery of the divine will and conform itself to it; it is the act of the atom which understands its littleness, but which desires, though only by a single note, to be in harmony with the divine symphony. Ecce adsum Domine, ut faciam voluntatem tuam. When we reach these heights we belong not to a sect, but to humanity; we are like those wonders of nature which the accident of circumstances has placed upon the territory of this or that people, but which belong to all the world, because in fact they belong to no one, or rather they are the common and inalienable property of the entire human race. Homer, Shakespeare, Dante, Goethe, Michael Angelo, Rembrandt belong to us all as much as the ruins of Athens or Rome, or, rather, they be- * Isaiah i. 10-17. Cf. Joel 2, Psalm 50. xxiv INTRODUCTION long to those who love them most'and understand them best. But that which is a truism, so far as men of genius in the domain of imagination or thought are concerned, still appears like a paradox when we speak of men of relig- ious genius. The Church has laid such absolute claim to them that she has created in her own favor a sort of right. It cannot be that this arbitrary confiscation shall endure forever. To prevent it we have not to perform an act of negation or demolition : let us leave to the chapels their statues and their relics, and far from be- littling the saints, let us make their true grandeur shine forth. It is time to say a few words concerning the difficul- ties of the work here presented to the public. History always embraces but a very feeble part of the reality : ignorant, she is like the stories children tell of the events that have occurred before their eyes ; learned, she re- minds us of a museum organized with all the modern im- provements. Instead of making you see nature with its external covering, its diffuse life, its mysterious echoes in your own heart, they offer you a herbarium. If it is difficult to narrate an ordinary event of our own time, it is far more so to describe the great crises where restless humanity is seeking its true path. The first duty of the historian is to forget his own time and country and become the sympathetic and interested contemporary of what he relates; but if it is difficult to give oneself the heart of a Greek or a Roman, it is in- finitely more so to give oneself a heart of the thirteenth century. I have said that at that period the Middle Age was twenty years old, and the feelings of the twentieth year are, if not the most fugitive, at least the most dif- ficult to note down. Everyone knows that it is impos- INTRODUCTION XXV sible to recall the feelings of youth with the same clear- ness as those of childhood or mature age. Doubtless we may have external facts in the memory, but we can- not recall the sensations and the sentiments, the con- fused forces which seek to move us are then all at work at once, and to speak the language of beyond the Rhine, it is the essentially phenomenal hour of the phenomena that we are; everything in us crosses, intermingles, collides, in desperate conflict : it is a time of diabolic or divine ex- citement. Let a few years pass, and nothing in the world can make us live those hours over again. Where was once a volcano, we perceive only a heap of blackened ashes, and scarcely, at long intervals, will a chance meet- ing, a sound, a word, awaken memory and unseal the fountain of recollection; and even then it is only a flash; we have had but a glimpse and all has sunk back into shadow and silence. We find the same difficulty when we try to take note of the fiery enthusiasms of the thirteenth century, its poetic inspirations, its amorous and chaste visions-all this is thrown up against a background of coarseness, wretchedness, corruption, and folly. The men of that time had all the vices except triviality, all the virtues except moderation; they were either ruf- fians or saints. Life was rude enough to kill feeble or- canisms; and thus characters had an energy unknown to-day. It was forever necessary to provide beforehand against a thousand dangers, to take those sudden resolu- tions in which one risks his life. Open the chronicle of Fra Salimbeni and you will be shocked to find that the largest place is taken up with the account of the annual expeditions of Parma against the neighboring cities, or of the neighboring cities against Parma. What would it have been if this chronicle, instead of being written by a monk of uncommonly open mind, a lover of music, at xxvi INTRODUCTION 1 certain times an ardent Joachimite, an indefatigable traveller, had been written by a warrior ? And this is not all; these wars between city and city were complicated with civil dissensions, plots were hatched periodically, conspirators were massacred if they were discovered, or massacred and exiled others in their turn if they were triumphant. When we picture to ourselves this state of things dominated by the grand struggles of the papacy against the empire, heretics, and infidels, we may under- stand how difficult it is to describe such a time. The imagination being haunted by horrible or entranc- ing pictures like those of the frescos in the Campo Santo of Pisa, men were always thinking of heaven and hell; they informed themselves about them with the feverish curiosity of emigrants, who pass their days on shipboard in trying to picture that spot in America where in a few days they will pitch their tent. Every monk of any notoriety must have gone through this. Dante's poem is not an isolated work; it is the noblest result of a condition which had given birth to hundreds of compositions, and Alighieri had little more to do than to co-ordinate the works of his predecessors and vivify them with the breath of his own genius. The unsettled state of men's minds was unimaginable. That unhealthy curiosity which lies at the bottom of the human heart, and which at the present day impels men to seek for refined and even perverse enjoyments, impelled men of that time to devotions which seem like a defiance to common sense. Never had hearts been shaken with such terrors, nor 1 The chronicles of Orvieto (Archivio, storico italiano, t. i., of 1889, pp. 7 and following) are nothing more than a list, as melancholy as they are tedious, of wars, which, during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, all the places of that region carried on, from the greatest to the smallest. INTRODUCTION XXVII ever thrilled with such radiant hopes. The noblest hymns of the liturgy, the Stabat and the Dies Irae, come to us from the thirteenth century, and we may well say that never has the human plaint been more agonized. When we look through history, not to find accounts of battles or of the succession of dynasties, but to try to grasp the evolution of ideas and feelings, when we seek above all to discover the heart of man and of epochs, we perceive, on arriving at the thirteenth century, that a fresh wind has blown over the world, the human lyre has a new string, the lowest, the most profound; one which sings of woes and hopes to which the ancient world had not vibrated. In the breast of the men of that time we think some- times we feel the beating of a woman's heart; they have exquisite sentiments, delightful inspirations, with absurd terrors, fantastic angers, infernal cruelties. Weakness and fear often make them insincere; they have the idea of the grand, the beautiful, the ugly, but that of order is want- ing; they fast or feast; the notion of the laws of nature, so deeply graven in our own minds, is to them entirely a stranger; the words possible and impossible have for them no meaning. Some give themselves to God, others sell themselves to the devil, but not one feels himself strong enough to walk alone, strong enough to have no need to hold on by some one's skirt. Peopled with spirits and demons nature appeared to them singularly animated ; in her presence they have all. the emotions which a child experiences at night before the trees on the roadside and the vague forms of the rooks. Unfortunately, our language is a very imperfect instru- ment for rendering all this; it is neither musical nor flexible; since the seventeenth century it has been deemed seemly to keep one's emotions to oneself, and the old xxviii INTRODUCTION words which served to note states of the soul have fallen into neglect; the Imitation and the Fioretti have become untranslatable. More than this, in a history like the present one, we must give a large place to the Italian spirit; it is evident that in a country where they call a chapel basilica and a tiny house palazzo, or in speaking to a seminarist say “ Your Reverence,” words have not the same value as on this side of the Alps. The Italians have an imagination which enlarges and simplifies. They see the forms and outlines of men and things more than they grasp their spirit. What they most admire in Michael Angelo is gigantic forms, noble and proud attitudes, while we better understand his secret thoughts, hidden sorrows, groans, and sighs. Place before their eyes a picture by Rembrandt, and more often than not it will appear to them ugly; its charm cannot be caught at a glance as in those of their artists; to see it you must examine it, make an effort, and with them effort is the beginning of pain. Do not ask them, then, to understand the pathos of things, to be touched by the mysterious and almost fan- ciful emotion which northern hearts discover and enjoy in the works of the Amsterdam master. No, instead of a forest they want a few trees, standing out clearly against the horizon; instead of a multitude swarming in the pe- numbra of reality, a few personages, larger than nature, forming harmonious groups in an ideal temple. The genius of a people1 is all of a piece : they apply to ? Do not forget that in the thirteenth century Italy was not a mere geographical expression. It was of all the countries of Europe the one which, notwithstanding its partitions, had the clearest consciousness of its unity. The expression profectus et honor Italiæ often appeared from the pen of Innocent III. See, for instance, the bull of April 16, 1198, Mirari cogimur, addressed particularly to the Assisans. INTRODUCTION xxix history the same processes that they apply to the arts. While the Germanic spirit considers events rather in their evolution, in their complex becoming, the Italian spirit takes them at a given moment, overlooks the shadows, the clouds, the mists, everything that makes the line indistinct, brings out the contour sharply, and thus constructs a very lucid story, which is a delight to the eyes, but which is little more than a symbol of the reality At other times it takes a man, separates him from the unnamed crowd, and by a labor often unconscious, makes him the ideal type of a whole epoch. Certainly there is in every people a tendency to give themselves a circle of divinities and heroes who are, so to say, the incarnation of its instincts; but generally that requires the long labor of centuries. The Italian charac- ter will not suffer this slow action; as soon as it recog- nizes a man it says so, it even shouts it aloud if that is necessary, and makes him enter upon immortality while still alive. Thus legend almost confounds itself with his- tory, and it becomes very difficult to reduce men to their true proportions. We must not, then, ask too much of history. The more beautiful is the dawn, the less one can describe it. The most beautiful things in nature, the flower and the but- terfly, should be touched only by delicate hands. The effort here made to indicate the variegated, waver- ing tints which form the atmosphere in which St. Francis | Note what the Fioretti say of Brother Bernard : " Stava solo sulle cime dei monti altissimi contemplando le cose celesti,” Fior., 28. The learned historian of Assisi, Mr. Cristofani, has used similar expressions ; speaking of St. Francis, he says: Nuovo Christo in somma e pero degno l'essere riguardato come la piu gigantesca, la piu splendida, la piu cara tra le grandi figure campeggianti nell' aere del medio evo” (Storia d'Assisi, t. l., p. 70, ed. of 1885). XXX INTRODUCTION It was per- lived is therefore of very uncertain success. haps presumptuous to undertake it. Happily we are no longer in the time when historians thought they had done the right thing when they had reduced everything to its proper size, contenting them- selves with denying or omitting everything in the life of the heroes of humanity which rises above the level of our every-day experience. No doubt Francis did not meet on the road to Sienna three pure and gentle virgins come from heaven to greet him; the devil did not overturn rocks for the sake of terrifying him ; but when we deny these visions and ap- paritions, we are victims of an error graver, perhaps, than that of those who affirm them. The first time that I was at Assisi I arrived in the middle of the night. When the sun rose, flooding every- thing with warmth and light, the old basilica 1 seemed suddenly to quiver; one might have said that it wished to speak and sing. Giotto's frescos, but now invisible, awoke to a strange life, you might have thought them painted the evening before so much alive they were ; everything was moving without awkwardness or jar. I returned six months later. A scaffold had been put up in the middle of the nave; upon it an art critic was examining the paintings, and as the day was overcast he threw upon the walls the beams of a lamp with a reflector. Then you saw arms thrown out, faces grimacing, without unity, without harmony; the most exquisite figures took on something fantastic and grotesque. He came down triumphant, with a portfolio stuffed with sketches ; here a foot, there a muscle, farther on a bit of face, and I could not refrain from musing on the frescos as I had seen them bathed in sunlight. The sun and the lamp are both deceivers; they trans- 1 It remains open all night. INTRODUCTION Xxxi 1 form what they show; but if the truth must be told I own to my preference for the falsehoods of the sun. History is a landscape, and like those of nature it is continually changing. Two persons who look at it at the same time do not find in it the same charm, and you yourself, if you had it continually before your eyes, would never see it twice alike. The general lines are permanent, but it needs only a cloud to hide the most important ones, as it needs only a jet of light to bring out such or such a detail and give it a false value. When I began this page the sun was disappearing be- hind the ruins of the Castle of Crussol and the splendors of the sunset gave it a shining aureola; the light flooded everything, and you no longer saw anywhere the damage which wars have inflicted upon the old feudal manor. I looked, almost thinking I could perceive at the window the figure of the chatelaine Twilight has come, and now there is nothing up there but crumbling walls, a discrowned tower, nothing but ruins and rubbish, which seem to beg for pity. It is the same with the landscapes of history. Narrow minds cannot accommodate themselves to these perpetual transformations : they want an objective history in which the author will study the people as a chemist studies a body. It is very possible that there may be laws for historic evolution and social transformations as exact as those of chemical combinations, and we must hope that in the end they will be discovered; but for the present there is no purely objective truth of history. To write history we must think it, and to think it is to transform it. Within a few years, it is true, men have believed they had found the secret of objectivity, in the publication of original documents. This is a true prog- ress which renders inestimable service, but here again we must not deceive ourselves as to its significance. All xxxii INTRODUCTION the documents on an epoch or an event cannot usually be published, a selection must be made, and in it will neces- sarily appear the turn of mind of him who makes it. Let us admit that all that can be found is published; but alas, the most unusual movements have generally the few- est documents. Take, for instance, the religious history of the Middle Ages : it is already a pretty delicate task to collect official documents, such as bulls, briefs, con- ciliary canons, monastic constitutions, etc., but do these documents contain all the life of the Church? Much is still wanting, and to my mind the movements which se- cretly agitated the masses are much more important, al- though to testify to them we have only a few fragments. Poor heretics, they were not only imprisoned and burned, but their books were destroyed and everything that spoke of them; and more than one historian, finding scarcely a trace of them in his heaps of documents, for- gets these prophets with their strange visions, these poet- monks who from the depths of their cells made the world to thrill and the papacy to tremble. Objective history is then a utopia. We create God in our own image, and we impress the mark of our person- ality in places where we least expect to find it again. But by dint of talking about the tribunal of history we have made most authors think that they owe to themselves and their readers definitive and irrevocable judgments. It is always easier to pronounce a sentence than to wait, to reserve one's opinion, to re-examine. The crowd which has put itself out to be present at a trial is almost always furious with the judges when they reserve the case for further information; its mind is so made that it re- quires precision in things which will bear it the least; it puts questions right and left, as children do; if you ap- pear to hesitate or to be embarrassed you are lost in its estimation, you are evidently only an ignoramus. INTRODUCTION xxxiii But perhaps below the Areopagites, obliged by their functions to pronounce sentence, there is place at the famous tribunal for a simple spectator who has come in by accident. He has made out a brief and would like very simply to tell his neighbors his opinion. This, then, is not a history ad probandum, to use the ancient formula. Is this to say that I have only desired to give the reader a moment of diversion? That would be to understand my thought very ill. In the grand spectacles of history as in those of nature there is some- thing divine; from it our minds and hearts gain a virtue at once pacifying and encouraging, we experience the sal- utary sensation of littleness, and seeing the beauties and the sadnesses of the past we learn better how to judge the present hour. In one of the frescos of the Upper Church of Assisi, Giotto has represented St. Clara and her companions coming out from St. Damian all in tears, to kiss their spiritual father's corpse as it is being carried to its last home. With an artist's liberty he has made the chapel a rich church built of precious marbles. Happily the real St. Damian is still there, nestled under some olive-trees like a lark under the heather; it still has its ill-made walls of irregular stones, like those which bound the neighboring fields. Which is the more beautiful, the ideal temple of the artist's fancy, or the poor chapel of reality? No heart will be in doubt. Francis's official historians have done for his biography what Giotto did for his little sanctuary. In general they have done him ill-service. Their embellishments have hidden the real St. Francis, who was, in fact, infinitely nobler than they have made him to be. Ecclesiastical writers appear to make a great mistake in thus adorn- ing the lives of their heroes, and only mentioning their edifying features. They thus give occasion, even to the xxxiv INTRODUCTION most devout, to suspect their testimony. Besides, by thus surrounding their saints with light they make them superhuman creatures, having nothing in common with us; they are privileged characters, marked with the divine seal; they are, as the litanies say, vials of election, into which God has poured the sweetest perfumes; their sanctity is revealed almost in spite of themselves; they are born saints as others are born kings or slaves, their life is set out against the golden background of a tryptich, and not against the sombre background of reality. By such means the saints, perhaps, gain something in the respect of the superstitious; but their lives lose something of virtue and of communicable strength. For- getting that they were men like ourselves, we no longer hear in our conscience the command, “Go and do like- wise.” It is, then, a work of piety to seek behind the legend for the history. Is it presumptuous to ask our readers to try to understand the thirteenth century and love St. Francis ? They will be amply rewarded for the effort, and will soon find an unexpected charm in these too meagre landscapes, these incorporate souls, these sickly imaginations which will pass before their eyes. Love is the true key of history. A book has always a great number of authors, and the following pages owe much to the researches of others; I have tried in the notes to show the whole value of these debts. I have also had colaborers to whom it will be more dif- ficult for me to express my gratitude. I refer to the librarians of the libraries of Italy and their assistants; it is impossible to name them all, their faces are better known to me than their names, but I would here say that during long months passed in the various collections of INTRODUCTION XXXV the Peninsula,, all, even to the most humble employees, have shown a tireless helpfulness even at those periods of the year when the number of attendants was the small- est. Professor Alessandro Leto, who, barely recovered from a grave attack of influenza, kindly served as my guide among the archives of Assisi, deserves a very particular mention. To the Syndic and municipality of that city 1 desire also to express my gratitude. I cannot close without a warm remembrance to the spiritual sons of St. Francis dispersed in the mountains of Umbria and Tuscany. Dear dwellers in St. Damian, Portiuncula, the Carceri, the Verna, Monte Colombo, you perhaps remember the strange pilgrim who, though he wore neither the frock nor the cord, used to talk with you of the Seraphic Father with as much love as the most pious Franciscan; you used to be surprised at his eagerness to see everything, to look at everything, to thread all the unexplored paths. You often tried to restrain him by telling him that there was not the smallest relic, the most meagre indulgence in the far-away grottos to which he was dragging you, but you always ended by going with him, thinking that none but a Frenchman could be possessed by a devotion so fervent and so imprudent. Thank you, pious anchorites of Greccio, thank you for the bread that you went out and begged when I arrived at your hermitage benumbed with cold and hunger. If you read these lines, read here my gratitude and also a little admiration. You are not all saints, but nearly all of you have hours of saintliness, flights of pure love. If some pages of this book give you pain, turn them over quickly ; let me think that others of them will give you pleasure, and will make the name you bear, if possi- ble, still more precious to you than it now is. . LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS CHAPTER I YOUTH Assisi is to-day very much what it was six or seven hundred years ago. The feudal castle is in ruins, but the aspect of the city is just the same. Its long-deserted streets, bordered by ancient houses, lie in terraces half- way up the steep hill-side. Above it Mount Subasio 1 proudly towers, at its feet lies outspread all the Umbriau plain from Perugia to Spoleto. The crowded houses clamber up the rocks like children a-tiptoe to see all that is to be seen; they succeed so well that every window gives the whole panorama set in its frame of rounded hills, from whose summits castles and villages stand sharply out against a sky of incomparable purity. These simple dwellings contain no more than five or six little rooms, but the rosy hues of the stone of which they are built give them a wonderfully cheerful air. The one in which, according to the story, St. Francis was born has almost entirely disappeared, to make room for a church; but the street is so modest, and all that remains | Eleven hundred and one metres above the level of the sea ; the plain around Assisi has an average of two hundred, and the town of two hundred and fifty, metres above. ? As in the majority of Tuscan cities the dimensions of the souses were formerly fixed by law. 2 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS of the palazzo dei genitori di San Francesco is so precisely like the neighboring houses that the tradition must be correct. Francis entered into glory in his lifetime; it would be surprising if a sort of worship had not from the first been centred around the house in which he saw the light and where he passed the first twenty-five years of his life. He was born about 1182. The biographies have pre- served to us few details about his parents." His father, Pietro Bernardone, was a wealthy cloth-merchant. We know how different was the life of the merchants of that The biographies say that he died (October 3, 1226) in his forty-fifth year. But the terms are not precise enough to make the date 1181 im- probable. For that matter the question is of small importance. A Franciscan of Erfurt, about the middle of the thirteenth century, fixes the date at 1182. Pertz, vol. xxiv., p. 193. 2 A number of different genealogies have been fabricated for Francis; they prove only one thing, the wreck of the Franciscan idea. How little they understood their hero, who thought to magnify and glorify him by making him spring from a noble family! "Quce vero,” says Father Suysken, S. J., “de ejus gentilitio insigni disserit Waddingus, non libet mihi attingere. Factis et virtutibus eluxit S. Franciscus non proavorum insignibus aut titulis, quos nec desideravit.” (A. SS. p. 557a.) It could not be better said. In the fourteenth century a whole cycle of legends had gathered about his birth. It could not have been otherwise. They all grow out of the story that tells of an old man who comes knocking at the parents' door, begging them to let him take the infant in his arms, when he announces that it will do great things. Under this form the episode certainly presents nothing impossible, but very soon marvellous incidents begin to gather around this nucleus until it becomes unrecog. nizable. Bartholomew of Pisa has preserved it in almost its primitive form. Conform., 28a 2. Francis certainly had several brothers (3 Soc., 9. Mater .. quce cum præ ceteris filiis diligebat], but they have left no trace in history except the incident related farther on. Vide p. 44 Christofani publishes several official pieces concerning Angelo, St. Francis's brother, and his descendants: Storie d'Assisi, vol i., p. 78 ff. In these documents Angelo is called Angelus Pice, and his son Johan- rectus olim Angeli domine Pice, appellations which might be cited in favor of the noble origin of Pica. YOUTH 3 period from what it is to-day. A great portion of their time was spent in extensive journeys for the purchase of goods. Such tours were little short of expeditions. The roads being insecure, a strong escort was needed for the journey to those famous fairs where, for long weeks at a time, merchants from the most remote parts of Europe were gathered together. In certain cities, Montpellier for example, the fair was perpetual. Benjamin of Tudela shows us that city frequented by all nations, Christian and Mohammedan. “ One meets there merchants from Africa, from Italy, Egypt, Palestine, Greece, Gaul, Spain, and England, so that one sees men of all lan- guages, with the Genoese and the Pisans.” Among all these merchants the richest were those who dealt in textile stuffs. They were literally the bankers of the time, and their heavy wagons were often laden with the sums levied by the popes in England or France. Their arrival at a castle was one of the great events. They were kept as long as possible, everyone being eager for the news they brought. It is easy to understand how close must have been their relations with the no. bility; in certain countries, Provence for example, the merchants were considered as nobles of a second order. Bernardone often made these long journeys; he went even as far as France, and by this we must surely un- derstand Northern France, and particularly Champagne, which was the seat of commercial exchange between Northern and Southern Europe. He was there at the very time of his son's birth. The mother, presenting the child at the font of San Rufino, had him baptized by the name of John, but the father 1 2 * Documentary History of Languedoc, iii., p. 607. ? The Cathedral of Assisi. To this day all the children of the town are baptized there; the other churches are without fonts. 4 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS on his return chose to call him Francis. Had he al- l'eady determined on the education he was to give the child; did he name him thus because he even then in- tended to bring him up after the French fashion, to make a little Frenchman of him ? It is by no means improb- able. Perhaps, indeed, the name was only a sort of grateful homage tendered by the Assisan burgher to his noble clients beyond the Alps. However this may be, the child was taught to speak French, and always had a special fondness for both the language and the country.” These facts about Bernardone are of real importance; they reveal the influences in the midst of which Francis grew up. Merchants, indeed, play a considerable part in the religious movements of the thirteenth century. Their calling in some sense forced them to become col- porters of ideas. What else could they do, on arriving in a country, but answer those who asked for news ? And the news most eagerly looked for was religious news, for men's minds were turned upon very different subjects then from now. They accommodated themselves to the popular wish, observing, hearkening everywhere, keeping eyes and ears open, glad to find anything to tell; and little by little many of them became active propagandists of ideas concerning which at first they had been simply curious. The importance of the part thus played by the mer- 3 Soc., 1 ; 2 Cel., 1, 1. Vide also 3 Soc., edition of Pesaro, 1831. · The langue d'ożl was at this epoch the international language of Europe ; in Italy it was the language of games and tourneys, and was spoken in the petty princely courts of Northern Italy. Vide Dante, De vulgari eloquio, lib. I., cap. x. Brunetto Latini wrote in French be- cause the speech of France is more delectable and more common to all people.” At the other end of Europe the Abbot of Stade, in West- phalia, spoke of the nobility of the Gallic dialect. Ann. 1224 apud Pertz, Script. xvi. We shall find St. Francis often making allusions to the tales of the Round Table and the Chanson de Roland. YOUTH 5 chants as they came and went, everywhere sowing the new ideas which they had gathered up in their travels, has not been put in a clear enough light; they were often, unconsciously and quite involuntarily, the carriers of ideas of all kinds, especially of heresy and rebellion. It was they who made the success of the Waldenses, the Albigenses, the Humiliati, and many other sècts. Thus Bernardone, without dreaming of such a thing, be- came the artisan of his son's religious vocation. The tales which he brought home from his travels seemed at first, perhaps, not to have aroused the child's attention, but they were like germs a long time buried, which suddenly, un- der a warm ray of sunlight, bring forth unlocked-for fruit. The boy's education was not carried very far;' the school was in those days overshadowed by the church. The priests of San Giorgio were his teachers, and taught him a little Latin. This language was spoken in Umbria until toward the middle of the thirteenth century; every one understood it and spoke it a little; it was still the language of sermons and of political deliberations. He learned also to write, but with less success; all through his life we see him take up the pen only on rare occasions, and for but a few words. The autograph of 1 We must not be led astray by certain remarks upon his ignorance, from which one might at first conclude that he knew absolutely noth- ing; for example, 2 Cel., 3, 45 : Quamvis homo iste beatus nullis fuerit scientic studiis innutritus. This evidently refers to science, such as the Franciscans soon came to apprehend it, and to theology in particular. The close of the passage in Celano is itself an evident proof of this. ? Bon., 219; Cf. A. SS., p. 560a. 1 Cel., 23. Ozanam, Documents inédits pour servir à l'histoire littéraire d'Italie du VIIIe au XIIIe siècle. Paris, 1851, 8vo, pp. 65, 68, 71, 73. Fauriel, Dante et les origines de la littérature italienne. Paris, 1854, 2 vols., 8vo, ii., p. 332, 379, 429. • V. 3 Soc., 51 and 67; 2 Cel., 3, 110 ; Bon., 55 ; 2 Cel., &, 99; Eccl., 6. Bernard de Besse, Turin MS., fo. 96a, calls Brother Leo the seco retary of St. Francis. 6 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Sacro-Convento, which appears to be entirely authentic, shows extreme awkwardness; in general he dictated, signing his letters by a simple t, the symbol of the cross of Jesus.1 That part of his education which was destined to have most influence upon his life was the French language, which he perhaps spoke in his own family. It has been rightly said that to know two languages is to have two souls; in learning that of France the boy felt his heart thrill to the melody of its youthful poetry, and his imagi- nation was mysteriously stirred with dreams of imitating the exploits of the French cavaliers. But let us not anticipate. His early life was that of other children of his age. In the quarter of the town where his house is still shown no vehicles are ever seen; from morning till night the narrow streets are given over to the children. They play there in many groups, frol- icking with an exquisite charm, very different from the little Romans, who, from the time they are six or seven years old, spend hours at a time squatting behind a pillar, or in a corner of a wall or a ruin, to play dice or ra,” putting a passionate ferocity even into their play. In Umbria, as in Tuscany, children love above all things games in which they can make a parade; to play at sol. diers or procession is the supreme delight of Assisan children. Through the day they keep to the narrow streets, but toward evening they go, singing and dancing, to one of the open squares of the city. These squares are one of the charms of Assisi. Every few paces an interval occurs between the houses looking toward the plain, and you find a delightful terrace, shaded by a few trees, the very place for enjoying the sunset without mor- See page 357, n. 8. Bon., 51 and 308. ? 1 Cel., 16; 3 Soc., 10; 23; 24; 33; 2 Cel., 1, 8; 3, 67. See also the Testament of St. Clara and the Speculum, 119a. YOUTH 7 1 losing one of its splendors. Hither no doubt came often the son of Bernardone, leading one of those farandoles which you may see there to this day: from his very baby- hood he was a prince among the children. Thomas of Celano draws an appalling picture of the education of that day. He describes parents inciting their children to vice, and driving them by main force to wrong-doing. Francis responded only too quickly to these ynhappy lessons. His father's profession and the possibly noble origin of his mother raised him almost to the level of the titled families of the country; money, which he spent with both hands, made him welcome among them. them. Well pleased to enjoy themselves at his expense, the young nobles paid him a sort of court. As to Bernardone, he was too happy to see his son associating with them to be niggardly as to the means. He was miserly, as the course of this history will show, but his pride and self-conceit exceeded his avarice. Pica, his wife, gentle and modest creature, concerning whom the biographers have been only too laconic, saw all this, and mourned over it in silence, but though weak as mothers are, she would not despair of her son, and when the neighbors told her of Francis's escapades, she would calmly reply, “What are you thinking about? I i Primum namque cum fari vel balbutire incipiunt, turpia quædam et execrabilia valde signis et vocibus edocentur pueri ii nondum nati : et cum tempus ablactationis advenerit quoilam luxu et lascivia plena non solum furi sed et operari coguntur. Sed et cum paulo plusculum ætate profecerint, se ipsis impellentibus, semper ad deteriora opera dilabuntur. 1 Cel., 1. ? 2 Cel., 1. Cf. Conform., 14a, 1. There is nothing impossible in her having been of Provençal origin, but there is nothing to indicate it in any document worthy of credence. She was no doubt of noble stock, for official documents always give her the title Domina. Cristofani I., p. 78 ff. Cf. Matrem honestissimam habuit. 3 Soc., Edition of Pesara, 1831, p. 17. 8 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS am very sure that, if it pleases God, he will become a good Christian."1 The words were natural enough from a mother's lips, but later on they were held to have been truly prophetic. How far did the young man permit himself to be led on? It would be difficult to say. The question which, as we are told, tormented Brother Leo, could only have suggested itself to a diseased imagination. Thomas of Celano and the Three Companions agree in picturing him as going to the worst excesses. Later biographers speak with more circumspection of his worldly career. A too widely credited story gathered from Celano's narrative was modified by the chapter-general of 1260, and the frankness of the early biographers was, no doubt, one of the causes which most effectively con- tributed to their definitive condemnation three years later.4 Their statements are in no sense obscure; according to them the son of Bernardone not only patterned himself after the young men of his age, he made it a point of honor to exceed them. What with eccentricities, buffoon- eries, pranks, prodigalities, he ended by achieving a sort of celebrity. He was forever in the streets with his com- panions, compelling attention by his extravagant or fan- tastic attire. Even at night the joyous company kept The reading given by the Conform., 14a, 1, Meritorum gratia dez filium ipsum noveritis afuturum, seems better than that of 2 Cel., 1, 1, Multorum gratia Dei filiorum patrem ipsum noveritis affuturum. Cf. 3 Soc., 2. ? Bernardo of Besse, Turin MS., 102 b. : An integer carne desiderans quod non extorsisset a Sancto meruit obtinere a Deo quod virgo esset. Cf. Conforin., 211a, 1, and A. SS., p. 560f. 3 " In illa antiphona quæ incipit : Hic vir in vanitatibus nutritus insolenter, fiat talis mutatis : Divinis karismatibus preventus est cle- menter.” Archiv., vi., p. 35. Vide p. 395, the decision of the chapter of 1263 ordaining the de etruction of legends earlier than that of Bonaventura. 4 Y JUTH 9 up their merrymakings, causing the town to ring with their noisy songs. At this very time the troubadours were roaming over the towns of Northern Italy” and bringing brilliant fes- tivities and especially Courts of Love into vogue. If they worked upon the passions, they also made appeal to feelings of courtesy and delicacy; it was this that saved Francis. In the midst of his excesses he was always refined and considerate, carefully abstaining from every base or indecent utterance. Already his chief aspiration was to rise above the commonplace. Tortured with the desire for that which is far off and high, he had conceived a sort of passion for chivalry, and fancying that dissipation was one of the distinguishing features of nobility, he had thrown himself into it with all his soul. But he who, at twenty, goes from pleasure to pleasure with the heart not absolutely closed to good, must now 11 Cel., 1 and 2 ; 89; 3 Soc., 2. Cf. A. SS., 560c. Vincent of Beauvais, Spec. hist. lib., 29, cap. 97. ? Pierre Vidal was at the court of Boniface, Marquis of Montferrat, about 1195, and liked his surroundings so well that he desired to estab- lish himself there. K. Bartsch, Piere Vidal's Lieder, Berlin, 1857, n. 41. Ern. Monaci, Testi antichi provenzali, Rome, 1889, col. 67. One should read this piece to have an idea of the fervor with which this poet shared the hopes of Italy and desired its independence. This political note is found again in a tenzon of Manfred II. Lancia, addressed to Pierre Vidal. (V. Monaci, loc. cit., col. 68.)--Gaucelme Faidit was also at this court as well as Raimbaud of Vacqueyras (1180–1207).–Folquet de Romans passed nearly all his life in Italy. Bernard of Ventadour (1145–1195), Peirol of Auvergne (1180-1220), and many others abode there a longer or shorter time. Very soon the Italians began to sing in Provençal, among others this Manfred Lancia, and Albert, Marquis of Malaspina (1162–1210), Pietro della Caravana, who in 1196 stirred up the Lombard towns against Henry VI., Pietro della Mula, who about 1200 was at the court of Cortemiglia. Fragments from these poets may be found in Monaci, op. cit., col. 69 ff. • 3 Soc., 3 ; 2 Cel., 1, 1. · Çum esset gloriosus animo et nollet aliquem se præcellere, Giord. 10 LIFE OF ST. FRANOIS 1 and then, at some turning of the road, become aware that there are hungry folk, who could live a month on what he spends in a few hours on frivolity. Francis saw them, and with his impressionable nature for the moment forgot everything else In thought he put himself in their place, and it sometimes happened that he gave them all the money he had about him and even his clothes. One day he was busy with some customers in his father's shop, when a man came in, begging for charity in the name of God. Losing his patience Francis sharply turned him away; but quickly reproaching himself for his harshness he thought, “What would I not have done if this man had asked something of me in the name of a count or a baron? What ought I not to have done when he came in the name of God ? I am no better than a clown!" Leaving his customers he ran after the beggar. Bernardone had been well pleased with his son's com- mercial aptitude in the early days when the young man was first in his father's employ. Francis was only too proficient in spending money ; he at least knew well how to make it. But this satisfaction did not last long. Francis's bad companions were exercising over him a most pernicious influence. The time came when he could no longer endure to be separated from them; if he heard their call, nothing could keep him, he would leave everything and go after them.3 All this time political events were hurrying on in Um- bria and Italy; after a formidable struggle the allied republics had forced the empire to recognize them. By the immortal victory of Legnano (May 29, 1176) and the Peace of Constance (June 25, 1183) the Lombard League had wrested from Frederick Barbarossa almost all the 11 Cel., 17; 3 Soc., 3 ; Bon., 7. Cf. A. SS., Cf. A. SS., p. 562. ? 1 Cel., 2 ; Bon., 6; Vit. sec. apud, A. SS., p. 560. 83 Soc., 9. YOUTH 11 prerogatives of power; little was left to the emperor buut insignia and outward show. From one end of the Peninsula to the other visions of liberty were making hearts beat high. For an instant it seemed as if all Italy was about to regain conscious- ness of its unity, was about to rise up as one man and hurl the foreigner from its borders; but the rivalries of the cities were too strong for them to see that local liberty without a common independence is precarious and illu- sory. Henry VI., the successor of Barbarossa (1183- 1196), laid Italy under a yoke of iron ; he might perhaps in the end have assured the domination of the empire, if his career had not been suddenly cut short by a prema- ture death. Yet he had not been able to put fetters upon ideas. The communal movement which was shaking the north of France reverberated beyond the Alps. Although a city of second rank, Assisi had not been behind in the great struggles for independence. She had been severely chastised, had lost her franchise, and was obliged to submit to Conrad of Suabia, Duke of Spoleto, who from the heights of his fortress kept her in subjection. But when Innocent III. ascended the pontifical throne (January 8, 1199) the old duke knew himself to be lost. He made a tender to him of money, men, his faith even, but the pontiff refused them all. He had no desire to appear to favor the Tedeschi, who had so odiously op- pressed the country. Conrad of Suabia was forced to yield at mercy, and to go to Narni to put his submission into the hands of two cardinals. Like the practical folk that they were, the Assisans did not hesitate an instant. No sooner was the count on 1 1 In 1174 Assisi was taken by the chancellor of the empire, Christian Archbishop of Mayence. A. Cristofani, i., p. 69. 12 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS the road to Narni than they rushed to the assault of the castle. The arrival of envoys charged to take posses- sion of it as a pontifical domain by no means gave them pause. Not one stone of it was left upon another. Then, with incredible rapidity they enclosed their city with walls, parts of which are still standing, their formidable ruins a witness to the zeal with which the whole popula tion labored on them. It is natural to think that Francis, then seventeen years old, was one of the most gallant laborers of those glorious days, and it was perhaps there that he gained the habit of carrying stones and wielding the trowel which was destined to serve him so well a few years later. Unhappily his fellow-citizens had not the sense to profit by their hard-won liberty. The lower classes, who in this revolution had become aware of their strength, determined to follow out the victory by taking possession of the property of the nobles. The latter took refuge in their fortified houses in the interior of the city, or in their castles in the suburbs. The towns. people burned down several of the latter, whereupon counts and barons made request of aid and succor from the neighboring cities. Perugia was at this time at the apogee of its power, and had already made many efforts to reduce Assisi to submission. It therefore received the fugitives with alacrity, and making their cause its own, declared war upon Assisi. This was in 1202. An encounter took 1 All these events are related in the Gesta Innocentii Ill. ab auctore coætaneo, edited by Baluze : Migne, Inn. op., vol. i., col. xxiv. See especially the letter of Innocent, Rectoribus Tuscic : Mirari cogimur, of April 16, 1198. Migue, vol. i., col. 75-77. Potthast, No. 82. * See Luigi Bonazzi, Storia di Perugia, 2 vols., 8vo. Perugia, 1875- 1879 vol. i., cap. V., pp. 257-322. YOUTH 13 1 place in the plain about half way between the two cities, not far from Ponte San Giovanni. Assisi was defeated, and Francis, who was in the ranks, was made prisoner. The treachery of the nobles had not been universal; a few had fought with the people. It was with them and not with the popolani that Francis, in consideration of the nobility of his manners, passed the time of his captivity, which lasted an entire year. He greatly aston- ished his companions by his lightness of heart. Very often they thought him almost crazy. Instead of pass- ing his time in wailing and cursing he made plans for the future, about which he was glad to talk to any one who came along. To his fancy life was what the songs. of the troubadours had painted it; he dreamed of glori- ous adventures, and always ended by saying: “You will see that one day I shall be adored by the whole world." 3 During these long months Francis must have been pretty rudely undeceived with respect to those nobles whom from afar he had so heartily admired. However that may be, he retained with them not only his frank- ness of speech, but also his full freedom of action. Ona of them, a knight, had always held aloof from the others, out of vanity and bad temper. Francis, far from leaving him to himself, always showed him affection, and finally had the joy of reconciling him with his fellow-captives. A compromise was finally arrived at between the counts and the people of Assisi. In November, 1203, the arbitrators designated by the two parties announced their decision. The commons of Assisi were to repair in a certain measure the damage done to the lords, and the latter agreed, on their part, to make no further al- 1 3 Soc., 4; 2 Cel., 1, 1. Cristofani, op. cit., i., p. 88 ff.; Bonazzi, op. cit., p. 257. * 3 Soc., 4. 3 3 Soc., 4; 2 Cel., 1, 1. 14 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS liances without authorization of the commons.1 Rural serfage was maintained, which proves that the revolution had been directed by the burghers, and for their own profit. Ten years more were not, however, to elapse before the common people also would succeed in achiev- ing liberty. In this cause we shall again see Francis fighting on the side of the oppressed, earning the title of Patriarch of religious democracy which has been ac- corded him by one of his compatriots.? The agreement being made the prisoners detained at Perugia were released, and Francis returned to Assisi He was twenty-two years old. 1 See this arbitration in Cristofani, op. cit., p. 93 ff. * Cristofani, loc. cit., p. 70. CHAPTER IL STAGES OF CONVERSION Spring 1204 - Spring 1206 On his return to Assisi Francis at once resumed his former mode of life; perhaps he even tried in some de- gree to make up for lost time. Fêtes, games, festivals, and dissipations began again. He did his part in them so well that he soon fell gravely ill. For long weeks he looked death so closely in the face that the physical crisis brought about a moral one. Thomas of Celano has pre- served for us an incident of Francis's convalescence. He was regaining strength little by little and had begun to go about the house, when one day he felt a desire to walk abroad, to contemplate nature quietly, and so take hold again of life. Leaning on a stick he bent his steps toward the city gate. The nearest one, called Porta Nuova, is the very one which opens upon the finest scenery. Immediately on passing through it one finds one's self in the open country; a fold of the hill hides the city, and cuts off every sound that might come from it. Before you lies the winding road to Foligno; at the left the imposing mass of Mount Subasio; at the right the Umbrian plain with its farms, its villages, its cloud-like hills, on whose slopes pines, cedars, oaks, the vine, and the olive-tree shed abroad an incomparable brightness and animation. The whole 11 Cel., 3; of. Bon., 8, and A. SS., p. 563c. 16 LIFE OF ST. FRANOIS- country sparkles with beauty, a beauty harmonious and thoroughly human, that is, made to the measure of man. Francis had hoped by this sight to recover the de- licious sensations of his youth. With the sharpened sensibility of the convalescent he breathed in the odors of the spring-time, but spring-time did not come, as he had expected, to his heart. This smiling nature had for him only a message of sadness. He had believed that the breezes of this beloved country-side would carry away the last shudders of the fever, and instead he felt in his heart a discouragement a thousand-fold more painful than any physical ill. The miserable emptiness of his life suddenly appeared before him; he was terrified at his solitude, the solitude of a great soul in which there is no altar. Memories of the past assailed him with intolerable bit- terness; he was seized with a disgust of himself, his former ambitions seemed to him ridiculous or despicable. He went home overwhelmed with the weight of a new suffering. In such hours of moral anguish man seeks a refuge either in love or in faith. Unhappily the family and friends of Francis were incapable of understanding him. As to religion, it was for him, as for the greater number of his contemporaries, that crass fetichism with Christian terminology which is far from having entirely disap- peared. With certain men, in fact, piety consists in mak- ing one's self right with a king more powerful than any other, but also more severe and capricious, who is called God. One proves one's loyalty to him as to other sovereigns, by putting his image more or less everywhere, and punctually paying the imposts levied by his minis- ters. If you are stingy, if you cheat, you run 1:9 risk of being severely chastised, but there are courtiers around the king who willingly render services. For a reason STAGES OF CONVERSION 17 1 able recompense they will seize a favorable moment to adroitly make away with the sentence of your condem- nation or to slip before the prince a form of plenary ab- solution which in a moment of good humor he will sign without looking at it. Such was the religious basis upon which Francis had lived up to this time. He did not so much as dream of seeking the spiritual balm which he needed for the heal- ing of his wounds. By a holy violence he was to arrive at last at a pure and virile faith ; but the road to this point is long, and sown thick with obstacles, and at the moment at which we have arrived he had not yet entered upon it, he did not even suspect its existence; all he knew was that pleasure leads to nothingness, to satiety and self-contempt. He knew this, and yet he was about to throw himself once more into a life of pleasure. The body is so weak, so prone to return to the old paths, that it seeks them of itself, the moment an energetic will does not stop it. Though no longer under any illusion with respect to it, Francis returned to his former life. Was he trying to divert his mind, to forget that day of bitter thought ? We might suppose so, seeing the ardor with which he threw himself into his new projects.? An opportunity offered itself for him to realize his dreams of glory. A knight of Assisi, perhaps one of those who had been in captivity with him at Perugia, was pre- paring to go to Apulia under orders from Count Gen- 1 It is enough to have lived in the country of Naples to know that there is nothing exaggerated in this picture. I am much surprised that intelligent and good men fancy that to change the religious for- mula of these people would suffice to transform them. What a mis- take! To-day, as in the time of Jesus, the important matter is not to adore on Mount Moriah or Mount Zion, but to adore in spirit and in truth. ? 1 Cel., 3 and 4. 18 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS tile. The latter was to join Gaultier de Brienne, who was in the south of Italy fighting on the side of Innocent III. Gaultier's renown was immense all through the Peninsula ; he was held to be one of the most gallant knights of the time. Francis's heart bounded with joy; it seemed to him that at the side of such a hero he should soon cover himself with glory. His departure was decided upon, and he gave himself up, without reserve, to his joy. He made his preparations with ostentatious prodigal- ity. His equipment, of a princely luxury, soon became the universal subject of conversation. It was all the more talked about because the chief of the expedition, ruined perhaps by the revolution of 1202 or by the ex- penses of a long captivity, was constrained to order things much more modestly. But with Francis kindli- ness was much stronger than love of display. He gave his sumptuous clothing to a poor knight. The biogra- phies do not say whether or not it was to the very one whom he was to accompany. To see him running hither and thither in all the bustle of preparation one would 1 3 Soc., 5. In the existing state of the documents it is impossible to know whom this name designates, for at that time it was borne by a number of counts who are only to be distinguished by the names of their castles, The three following are possible : 1. Gentile comes de Campilio, who in 1215 paid homage for his property to the commune of Orvieto : Le antiche cronache di Orvieto, Arch. stor. ital., 5th series., 1889, iii., p. 47. 2. Gentilis comes filius Alberici, who with others had made donation of a monastery to the Bishop of Foligno : Confirmatory Bull In eminenti of April 10, 1210 : Ughelli, Italia Sacra, 1, p. 697; Pott- hast, 3974. 3. Gentilis comes Manupelli ; whom we find in July, 1200, assuring to Palermo the victory over the troops sent by Innocent III. against Marckwald; Huillard-Bréholles, Hist. dipl., i. p., 46 ff. Cf. Pot- thast, 1126. Gestu Innocenti, Migne, vol. i., xxxii, ff. Cf. Huillard- Bréholles, loc. cit., pages 60, 84, 89, 101. It is wrong to consider that Gentile could here be a mere adjective ; the 3 Soc. say Gentile nomine. '1 Cel., 4; 3 Soc., 5. 33 Soc., 6; 2 Cel., 1, 2 ; Bon., 8. STAGES OF CONVERSION 19 have thought him the son of a great lord. His compan- ions were doubtless not slow to feel chafed by his ways and to promise themselves to make him cruelly expiate them. As for him, he perceived nothing of the jealousies which he was exciting, and night and day he thought only of his future glory. In his dreams he seemed to see his parents' house completely transformed. Instead of bales of cloth he saw there only gleaming bucklers hanging on the walls, and arms of all kinds as in a seigno- rial castle. He saw himself there, beside a noble and beautiful bride, and he never suspected that in this vision there was any presage of the future which was reserved for bim. Never had any one seen him so communicative, so radiant; and when he was asked for the hundredth time whence came all this joy, he would reply with surprising assurance: "I know that I shall become a great prince.” The day of departure arrived at last. Francis on horseback, the little buckler of a page on his arm, bade adieu to his natal city with joy, and with the little troop took the road to Spoleto which winds around the base of Mount Subasio. What happened next? The documents do not say. They confine themselves to reporting that that very even- ing Francis had a vision which decided him to return to Assisi.? Perhaps it would not be far from the truth to conjecture that once fairly on the way the young no- les took their revenge on the son of Bernardone for his airs as of a future prince. At twenty years one hardly pardons things like these. If, as we are often assured, there is a pleasure unsuspected by the profane in getting even with a stranger, it must be an almost divine delight to get even with a young coxcomb upon whom one has to exercise so righteous a vengeance. 11 Cel., 5; 3 Soc., 5; 2 Cel., 1, 2; Bon., 9. 23 Soc., 6; Bon., 9; 2 Cel., 1, 2. 1 20 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Arriving at Spoleto, Francis took to his bed. A fever was consuming him; in a few hours he had seen all his dreams crumble away. The very next day he took the road back to Assisi.1 So unexpected a return made a great stir in the little city, and was a cruel blow to his parents. As for him, he doubled his charities to the poor, and sought to keep aloof from society, but his old companions came flock- ing about him from all quarters, hoping to find in him once more the tireless purveyor of their idle wants. He let them have their way. Nevertheless a great change had taken place in him. Neither pleasures nor work could long hold him; he spent a portion of his days in long country rambles, often accompanied by a friend most different from those whom until now we have seen about him. The name of this friend is not known, but from certain indications one is inclined to believe that he was Bombarone da Bevig lia, the future Brother Elias. 2 1 3 Soc., 6 ; 2 Cel., 1, * These days are recalled by Celano with a very particular precision. It is very improbable that Francis, usually so reserved as to his personal experience, should have told him about them (2 Cel., 3, 68, and 42, cf. Bon., 144). On the other hand, nothing forbids his having been in Cormed on this matter hy Brother Elias. (I strongly suspect the legend which tells of an old man appearing on the day Francis was born and .egging permission to take the child in his arms, saying, “To-day, two infants were born--this one, who will be among the best of men, and another, who will be among the worst”-of having been invented by the zelanti against Brother Elias. It is evident 'that such a story is aimed at some one. Whom, if not him who was afterward to appear as the Anti-Francis ?) We have sufficient details about the eleven first disciples to know that none of them is here in question. There is nothing surprising in the fact that Elias does not appear in the earliest years of the Order (1209–1212), because after having practised at As- sisi his double calling of schoolmaster and carriage-trimmer (sucbat cult. rus et docebat puerulos parılterium legere, Salimbene, p. 402) he was scriptor at Bologna (Eccl., 13). And from the psychological point of STAGES OF CONVERSION 21 Francis now went back to his reflections at the time of his recovery, but with less of bitterness. His own heart and his friend agreed in saying to him that it is possible no longer to trust either in pleasure or in glory and yet to find worthy causes to which to consecrate one's life. It is at this moment that religious thought seems to have awaked in him. From the moment that he saw this new way of life his desire to run in it had all the fiery im- petuosity, which he put into all his actions. He was continually calling upon his friend and leading him apart into the most sequestered paths. But intense conflicts are indescribable. We struggle, we suffer alone. It is the nocturnal wrestling of Beth- el, mysterious and solitary. The soul of Francis was great enough to endure this tragic duel. His friend had marvellously understood his part in this contest. He gave a few rare counsels, but much of the time he con- tented himself with manifesting his solicitude by follow- ing Francis everywhere and never asking to know more than he could tell him. Often Francis directed his steps to a grotto in the country near Assisi, which he entered alone. This rocky cave concealed in the midst of the olive trees became for faithful Franciscans that which Gethsemane is for Chris- tians. Here Francis relieved his overcharged heart by heavy groans. Sometimes, seized with a real horror for the view this hypothesis would admirably explain the ascendency which Elias was destined always to exercise over his master. Still it remains difficult to understand why Celano did not name Elias here, but the passage, 1 Cel., 6, differs in the different manuscripts (cf. A. SS. and Amoni's edition, p. 14) and may have been retouched after the latter's fall. Beviglia is a simple farm three-quarters of an hour northwest of Assisi, almost half way to Petrignano. Half an hour from Assisi in the direction of Beviglia is a grotto, which may very well be that of which we are about to speak. 22 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS disorders of his youth, he would implore mercy, but the greater part of the time his face was turned toward the future; feverishly he sought for that higher truth to which he longed to dedicate himself, that pearl of great price of which the gospel speaks : “Whosoever seeks, finds; he who asks, receives; and to him who knocks, it shall be opened.” When he came out after long hours of seclusion the pallor of his countenance, the painful tension of his feat- ures told plainly enough of the intensity of his asking and the violence of his knocks.1 The inward man, to borrow the language of the mystics, was not yet formed in him, but it needed only the oc- casion to bring about the final break with the past. The occasion soon presented itself. His friends were making continual efforts to induce him to take up his old habits again. One day he in- vited them all to a sumptuous banquet. They thought they had conquered, and as in old times they proclaimed him king of the revels. The feast was prolonged far into the night, and at its close the guests rushed out into the streets, which they filled with song and uproar. Sud- denly they perceived that Francis was no longer with them. After long searching they at last discovered him far behind them, still holding in his hand his sceptre of king of misrule, but plunged in so profound a revery that he seemed to be riveted to the ground and uncon- scious of all that was going on. “What is the matter with you ?” they cried, bustling about him as if to awaken him. Don't you see that he is thinking of taking a wife ? " said one. “Yes," answered Francis, arousing himself and look- ing at them with a smile which they did not recognize. 11 Cel., 6; 2 Cel., 1, 5 ; 3 Soc., 8, 12 ; Bon., 10, 11, 12. STAGES OF CONVERSION 23 “I am thinking of taking a wife more beautiful, more rich, more pure than you could ever imagine.” 1 This reply marks a decisive stage in his inner life. By it he cut the last links which bound him to trivial pleas- ures. It remains for us to see through what struggles he was to give himself to God, after having torn himself free from the world. His friends probably understood nothing of all that had taken place, but he had become aware of the abyss that was opening between them and him. They soon accepted the situation. As for himself, no longer having any reason for caution, he gave himself up more than ever to his passion for solitude. If he often wept over his past dissipations and wondered how he could have lived so long without tasting the bitterness of the dregs of the enchanted cup, he never allowed himself to be overwhelmed with vain regrets. The poor had remained faithful to him. They gave him an admiration of which he knew himself to be un- worthy, yet which had for him an infinite sweetness. The future grew bright to him in the light of their gratitude, of the timid, trembling affection which they dared not utter but which his heart revealed to him; this worship which he does not deserve to-day he will deserve to-morrow, at least he promises himself to do all he can to deserve it. To understand these feelings one must understand the condition of the poor of a place like Assisi. In an agri- cultural country poverty does not, as elsewhere, almost inevitably involve moral destitution, that degeneration of the entire human being which renders charity so diffi- cult. Most of the poor persons whom Francis knew were in straits because of war, of bad harvests, or of ill- ness. In such cases material succor is but a small-part . Sympathy is the thing needed above all. Francis had treasures of it to lavish upon them. 13 Soc., 7; 1 Cel., 7; 2 Cel., 1, 3; 3 Soc., 13. 24 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS He was well requited. All sorrows are sisters ; a secret intelligence establishes itself between troubled hearts, however diverse their griefs. The poor people felt that their friend also suffered; they did not precisely know with what, but they forgot their own sorrows in pitying their benefactor. Suffering is the true cement of love. For men to love each other truly, they must have shed tears together. As yet no influence strictly ecclesiastic had been felt by Francis. Doubtless there was in his heart that leaven of Christian faith which enters one's being without his being aware; but the interior transformation which was going on in him was as yet the fruit of his own intuition. This period was drawing to a close. His thought was soon to find əxpression, and by that very act to receive the stamp of external circumstances. Christian instruc- tion will give a precise form to ideas of which as yet he has but vague glimpses, but he will find in this form a frame in which his thought will perhaps lose some- thing of its originality and vigor; the new wine will be put into old wine-skins. By degrees he was becoming calm, was finding in the contemplation of nature joys which up to this time he had sipped but hastily, almost unconsciously, and of which he was now learning to relish the flavor. He drew from them not simply soothing ; in his heart he felt new com- passions springing into life, and with these the desire to act, to give himself, to cry aloud to these cities perched upon the hill-tops, threatening as warriors who eye one another before the fray, that they should be reconciled and love one another. Certainly, at this time Francis had no glimpse of what he was some time to become; but these hours are perhaps the most important in the evolution of his thought; it is to them that his life owes that air of liberty, that per- STAGES OF CONVERSION 26 fume of the fields which make it as different from the piety of the sacristy as from that of the drawing-room. About this time he made a pilgrimage to Rome, whether to ask counsel of his friends, whether as a pen- ance imposed by his confessor, or from a mere impulse, no one knows. Perhaps he thought that in a visit to the Holy Apostles, as people said then, he should find the an- swers to all the questions which he was asking himself. At any rate he went. It is hardly probable that he re- ceived from the visit any religious influence, for his biog- raphers relate the pained surprise which he experienced when he saw in Saint Peter's how meagre were the offer- ings of pilgrims. He wanted to give everything to the prince of the apostles, and emptying his purse he threw its entire contents upon the tomb. This journey was marked by a more important inci- dent. Many a time when succoring the poor he had asked himself if he himself was able to endure poverty; no one knows the weight of a burden until he has carried it, at least for a moment, upon his own shoulders. He desired to know what it is like to have nothing, and to depend for bread upon the charity or the caprice of the passer by.1 There were swarms of beggars crowding the Piazza before the great basilica. He borrowed the rags of one of them, lending him his garment in exchange, and a whole day he stood there, fasting, with outstretched hand. The act was a great victory, the triumph of com- passion over natural pride. Returning to Assisi, he doubled his kindnesses to those of whom he had truly the right to call himself the brother. With such sentiments he could not long escape the influence of the Church. On all the roadsides in the environs of the city there were then, as now, numerous chapels. Very often he 1 3 Soc., 8–10; Bon., 13, 14; 2 Cel., 1, 4. 26 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS must have heard mass in these rustic sanctuaries, alone with the celebrant. Recognizing the tendency of simple natures to bring home to themselves everything that they hear, it is easy to understand his emotion and agitation when the priest, turning toward him, would read the gospel for the day. The Christian ideal was revealed to him, bringing an answer to his secret anxieties. And when, a few moments later, he would plunge into the forest, all his thoughts would be with the poor carpenter of Nazareth, who placed himself in his path, saying to him, even to him, “Follow thou me.” Nearly two years had passed since the day when he felt the first shock; a life of renunciation appeared to him as the goal of his efforts, but he felt that his spirit- ual novitiate was not yet ended. He suddenly experi- enced a bitter assurance of the fact. He was riding on horseback one day, his mind more than ever possessed with the desire to lead a life of absolute devotion, when at a turn of the road he found himself face to face with a leper. The frightful malady had always inspired in him an invincible repulsion. He could not control a movement of horror, and by instinct he turned his horse in another direction. If the shock had been severe, the defeat was com- plete. He reproached himself bitterly. To cherish such fine projects and show himself so cowardly! Was the knight of Christ then going to give up his arms ? He retraced his steps and springing from his horse he gave to the astounded sufferer all the money that he had; then kissed his hand as he would have done to a priest.1 This new victory, as he himself saw, marked an era in his spiritual life.” 1 To this day in the centre and south of Italy they kiss the hand of priests and monks. ? See the Will. Cf. 3 Soc., 11 ; 1 Cel., 17 ; Bon., 11; A. SS., p. 566. STAGES OF CONVERSION 27 It is far indeed from hatred of evil to love of good. Those are more numerous than we think who, after severe experience, have renounced what the ancient liturgies call the world, with its pomps and lusts; but the greater number of them have not at the bottom of their hearts the smallest grain of pure love. In vulgar souls disil- lusion leaves only a frightful egoism. This victory of Francis had been so sudden that he desired to complete it; a few days later he went to the lazaretto. One can imagine the stupefaction of these wretches at the entrance of the brilliant cavalier. If in our days a visit to the sick in our hospitals is a real event awaited with feverish impatience, what must not have been the appearance of Francis among these poor recluses? One must have seen sufferers thus abandoned, to understand what joy may be given by an affectionate word, sometimes even a simple glance. Moved and transported, Francis felt his whole being vibrate with unfamiliar sensations. For the first time he heard the unspeakable accents of a gratitude which cannot find words burning enough to express itself, which admires and adores the benefactor almost like an angel from heaven. 1 3 Soc., 11 ; Bon., 18. CHAPTER III THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 Sr. FRANCIS was inspired as much as any man may be, but it would be a palpable error to study him apart from his age and from the conditions in which he lived. We know that he desired and believed his life to be an imitation of Jesus, but what we know about the Christ is in fact so little, that St. Francis's life loses none of its strangeness for that. His conviction that he was but an imitator preserved him from all temptation to pride, and enabled him to proclaim his views with incomparable vigor, without seeming in the least to be preaching him- self. We must therefore neither isolate him from external influences nor show him too dependent on them. During the period of his life at which we are now arrived, 1205- 1206, the religious situation of Italy must more than at any other time have influenced his thought and urged him into the path which he finally entered. The morals of the clergy were as corrupt as ever, ren- dering any serious reform impossible. If some among the heresies of the time were pure and without reproach, many were trivial and impure. Here and there a few voices were raised in protest, but the prophesyings of Gioacchino di Fiore had no more power than those of St. Hildegarde to put a stop to wickedness. Luke Wadding, the pious Franciscan annalist, begins his chronicle with THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 29 it this appalling picture. The advance in historic research permits us to retouch it somewhat more in detail, but the conclusion remains the same; without Francis of Assisi the Church would perhaps have foundered and the Cathari would have won the day. The little poor man, driven away, cast out of doors by the creatures of Inno- cent III.,saved. Christianity. We cannot here make a thorough study of the state of the Church at the beginning of the thirteenth cen- tury; it will suffice to trace some of its most prominent features. The first glance at the secular clergy brings out into startling prominence the ravages of simony; the traffio in ecclesiastical places was carried on with boundless audacity; benefices were put up to the highest bidder, and Innocent III. admitted that fire and sword alone could heal this plague. Prelates who declined to be bought by propince, fees, were held up as astounding exceptions ! "They are stones for understanding," it was said of the officers of the Roman curia, “wood for justice, fire for wrath, iron for forgiveness; deceitful as foxes, proud as bulls, greedy and insatiate as the minotaur."9 The praises showered upon Pope Eugenius III. for rebuffing a priest who, at the beginning of a lawsuit, offered him a golden mark, speak only too plainly as to the morals of Rome in this respect. The bishops, on their part, found a thousand methods, often most out of keeping with their calling for extorting 1 Bull of June 8, 1198, Quamvis. Migne, i., col. 220 ; Potthast, 265. ? For example, Pierre, Cardinal of St. Chryzogone and former Bishop of Meaux, who in a single election refused the dazzling offer of five hundred silver marks. Alexander III., Migne's edition, epist. 395. • Fasciculus rerum expetend. et fugiend., t. ii., 7, pp. 254, 255 (Brown, 1690). • John of Salisbury, Policrat. Migne, p. 15. 2 30 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS money from the simple priests.Violent, quarrelsome, contentious, they were held up to ridicule in popular ballads from one end of Europe to the other. As to the priests, they bent all their powers to accumulate bene fices, and secure inheritances from the dying, stooping to the most despicable measures for providing for their bastards.3 The monastic orders were hardly more reputable. A great number of these had sprung up in the eleventh and twelfth centuries; their reputation for sanctity soon stimulated the liberality of the faithful, and thus fatally brought about their own decadence. Few communities had shown the discretion of the first monks of the Order of Grammont in the diocese of Limoges. When Stephen de Muret, its founder, began to manifest his sanctity by giving sight to a blind man, his disciples took alarm at the thought of the wealth and notoriety which was likely to come to them from this cause. Pierre of Limoges, who had succeeded Stephen as prior, went at once to his tomb, praying: Among their sources of revenue we find the right of collagium, by pay. ment of which clerics acquired the right to keep a concubine. Pierre le Chantre, Verb. abbrev., 24. . ? Vide Carmina Burana, Breslau, 8vo, 1883 ; Political Songs of Eng- land, published by Th. Wright, London, 8vo, 1893 ; Poésies populaires latines du moyen âge, du Méril, Paris, 1847. See also Raynouard, Lexique roman, i., 446, 451, 464, the fine poems of the troubadour Pierre Car- dinal, contemporary of St. Francis, upon the woes of the Church, and Dante, Inferno, xix. If one would gain an idea of what the bishop of a small city in those days cost his flock, he has only to read the bull of February 12, 1219, Justis petentium, addressed by Honorius III. to the Bishop of Terni, and including the contract by which the inhabitants of that city settled the revenues of the episcopal see. Horoy, t. iii., col. 114, or the Bullarium romanum, t. iii., p. 348, Turin. 3 Conosco sacerdoti che fanno gli usura per formare un patrimonio da lasciare ai loro spurii; altri che tengono osteria coll' insegna del collare e oondono vino Salimbene, Cantarelli, Parma, 1882, & vols., 8vo, ii., P. 807. 1 THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 31 "U servant of God, thou hast shown us the way of poverty, and behold, thou wouldst make us leave the strait and difficult path of salvation, and wouldst set us in the broad road of eternal death. Thou hast preached to us (the virtues of) solitude, and thou art about to change this place into a fair and a market-place. We know well that thou art a saint! Thou hast no need to prove it to us by performing miracles which will destroy our humility. Be not so zealous for thy reputation as to augment it to the injury of our salvation. This is what we ask of thee, expecting it of thy love. If not, we declare unto thee by the obe. dience which we once owed to thee, we will unearth thy bones and throw them into the river.' 2 Stephen obeyed up to the time of his canonization (1189), but from that time forward ambition, avarice, and luxury made such inroads upon the solitude of Gram- mont that its monks became the byword and scoff of the Christian world.1 Pierre of Limoges was not entirely without reason in fearing that his monastery would be transformed into a fair-ground; members of the chapters of most of the ca- thedrals kept wine-shops literally under their shadows, and certain monasteries did not hesitate to attract custom by jugglers of all kinds and even by cour- tesans. To form an idea of the degradation of the greater number of the monks it is not enough to read the ora- torical and often exaggerated reproofs of preachers obliged to strike hard in order to produce an effect. We must run through the collection of bulls, where appeals to the court of Rome against assassinations, 1 Vide Brevis historia Prior. Grandimont.--Stephani Tornacensis. Epist. 115, 152, 153, 156, 162 ; Honorius III., Horoy's edition, lib. i., 280, 284, 286,288 ; ii., 12, 130, 136, 383–387. 2 Guérard, Cartulaire de N. D. de Paris, t. i., p. cxi ; t. ii., p. 406. Cf. Honorius III., Bull Inter statuta of July 25, 1223, Horoy, t. iv., ool. 401. See also canon 23 of the Council of Beziers, 1233; Guibert de Gemblours, epist. 5 and 6 (Migne), Honorius III., lib. ix,, 32, 81; ii., 193 ; iv., 10 ; iii., 253 and 258; iv., 33, 27, 70, 144 ; V., 56, 291, 420, 430; vi., 214, 132, 139, 204 ; vii., 127; ix., 51. 32 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS violations, incests, adulteries, recur on almost every page. It is easy to see that even an Innocent III. might feel himself helpless and tempted to yield to discouragement, in the face of so many ills.1 The best spirits were turning toward the Orient, ask- ing themselves if perchance the Greek Church might not suddenly come forward to purify all these abuses, and receive for herself the inheritance of her sister.2 The clergy, though no longer respected, still overawed the people through their superstitious terror of their power. Here and there might have been perceived many a forewarning of direful revolts; the roads to Rome were crowded with monks hastening to claim the protection of the Holy See against the people among whom they lived. The Pope would promptly declare an interdict, but it was not to be expected that such a resource would avail forever.3 To maintain the privileges of the Church the papacy was often obliged to spread the mantle of its protection over those who deserved it least. Its clients were not always as interesting as the unfortunate Ingelburge. It would be easier to give unreserved admiration to the conduct of Innocent III. if in this matter one could feel certain that his only interest was to maintain the cause of a poor abandoned woman. But it is only too evident that he desired above all to keep up the ecclesiastical i Vide Bull Postquam vocante Domino of July 11, 1206. Potthast 284C. ? V. Annales Stadenses [Monumenta Germanio historica, Scriptorum, t. 16], ad ann. 1237. Among the comprehensive picturos of the situation of the Church in the thirteenth century, there is none more interesting than that left us by the Cardinal Jacques de Vitry in his Historia occi- dentalis: Libri duo quorum prior Orientalis, alter Occidentalis historia nomine inscribitur Duaci, 1597, 16mo, pp. 259-480. 3 V. Honorius III., Horoy's edition, lib. i., ep. 109, 125, 135, 206, 273 : ü., 128, 164; iv., 120, etc. THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 33 immunities. This is very evident in his intervention in favor of Waldemar, Bishop of Schleswig. Yet we must not assume that all was corrupt in the bosom of the Church; then, as always, the evil made more noise than the good, and the voices of those who desired a reformation aroused only passing interest. Among the populace there was superstition unimagi- nable; the pulpit, which ought to have shed abroad some little light, was as yet open only to the bishops, and the few pastors who did not neglect their duty in this regard accomplished very little, being too much absorbed in other duties. It was the birth of the mendicant orders which obliged the entire body of secular clergy to take up the practice of preaching. Public worship, reduced to liturgical ceremonies, no longer preserved anything which appealed to the intelli- gence; it was more and more becoming a sort of self- acting magic formula. Once upon this road, the absurd was not far distant. Those who deemed themselves pious told of miracles performed by relics with no need of aid from the moral act of faith. In one case a parrot, being carried away by a kite, uttered the invocation dear to his mistress, “Sancte Thoma adjuva me," and was miraculously rescued. In another, a merchant of Groningen, having purloined an arm of St. John the Baptist, grew rich as if by enchant- ment so long as he kept it concealed in his house, but was reduced to beggary so soon as, his secret being dis- covered, the relic was taken away from him and placed in a church.1 These stories, we must observe, do not come from igno- Dialogus miraculorum of Cegar of Heisterbach [Strange's edition, Cologne, 1851, 2 vols., 8vo), t. ii., pp. 255 and 125. This book, with the Golden Legend of Giacomo di Varaggio, gives the best idea of the state of religious thought in the thirteenth century. 8 34 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS rant enthusiasts, hidden away in obscure country places; they are given us by one of the most learned monks of his time, who relates them to a novice by way of forming his mind! Relics, then, were held to be neither more nor less than talismans. Not alone did they perform miracles upon those who were in no special state of faith or devotion, the more potent among them healed the sick in spite of themselves. A chronicler relates that the body of Saint Martin of Tours had in 887 been secretly transported to some remote hiding place for fear of the Danish invasion. When the time came for bringing it home again, there in Touraine two impotent men who, thanks to their infirmity, gained large sums by begging. They were thrown into great terror by the tidings that the relics were being brought back : Saint Martin would certainly heal them and take away their means of livelihood. Their fears were only too well founded. They had taken to flight, but being too lame to walk fast they had not yet crossed the frontier of Touraine when the saint arrived and healed them! Hundreds of similar stories might be collected, statis- tics might be made up to show, at the accession of Inno- cent III., the greater number of episcopal thrones occu- pied by unworthy bishops, the religious houses peopled with idle and debauched monks; but would this give a truly accurate picture of the Church at this epoch? I do not think so. In the first place, we must reckon with the choice spirits, who were without doubt more numerous than is generally supposed. Five righteous men would have saved Sodom; the Almighty did not find them there, but he perhaps might have found them had He Himself made search for them instead of trusting to Lot. The Church of the thirteenth century had them, and it was for their sakes that the whirlwind of heresy did not sweep it away THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 35 But this is not all: the Church of that time offered a noble spectacle of moral grandeur. We must learn to lift our eyes from the wretched state of things which has just been pointed out and fix them on the pontifical throne and recognize the beauty of the struggle there going on: a power wholly spiritual undertaking to command the rulers of the world, as the soul masters the body, and tri- umphing in the end. It is true that both soldiers and generals of this army were often little better than ruffians, but here again, in order to be just, we must understand the end they aimed at. In that iron age, when brute force was the only force, the Church, notwithstanding its wounds, offered to the world the spectacle of peasants and laboring men receiv- ing the humble homage of the highest potentates of earth, simply because, seated on the throne of Saint Peter, they represented the moral law. This is why Alighieri and many others before and after him, though they might heap curses on wicked ministers, yet in the depths of their heart were never without an immense com- passion and an ardent love for the Church which they never ceased to call their mother. Still, everybody was not like them, and the vices of the clergy explain the innumerable heresies of that day. All of them had a certain success, from those which were simply the outcry of an outraged conscience, like that of the Waldenses, to the most absurd of them all, like that of Eon de l'Étoile. Some of these movements were for great and sacred causes ; but we must not let our sym- pathies be so moved by the persecutions suffered by heretics as to cloud our judgment. It would have been better had Rome triumphed by gentleness, by education and holiness, but unhappily a soldier may not always choose his weapons, and when life is at stake he seizes the first he finds within his reach. The papacy has not + 36 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS always been reactionary and obscurantist; when it over- threw the Cathari, for example, its victory was that of reason and good sense. The list of the heresies of the thirteenth century is already long, but it is increasing every day, to the great joy of those erudite ones who are making strenuous efforts to classify everything in that tohu-bohu of mys- ticism and folly. In that day heresy was very much alive; it was consequently very complex and its powers of transformation infinite. One may indicate its currents, mark its direction, but to go farther is to condemn one- self to utter confusion in this medley of impulsive, pas- sionate, fantastic movements which were born, shot up- ward, and fell to earth again, at the caprice of a thousand incomprehensible circumstances. In certain counties of England there are at the present day villages having as many as eight and ten places of worship for a few hundreds of inhabitants. Many of these people change their denomination every three or four years, returning to that they first quitted, leaving it again only to enter it anew, and so on as long as they live. Their leaders set the example, throwing themselves enthusiastically into each new movement only to leave it before long. They would all alike find it difficult to give an intelligible reason for these changes. They say that the Spirit guides them, and it would be unfair to disbelieve them, but the historian who should investigate conditions like these would lose his head in the labyrinth unless he made a separate study of each of these Protean move- ments. They are surely not worth the trouble. In a somewhat similar condition was a great part of Christendom under Innocent III. ; but while the sects of which I have just spoken move in a very narrow circle of dogmas and ideas, in the thirteenth century every sort of excess followed in rapid succession. Without the THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 37 slightest pause of transition men passed through the most contradictory systems of belief. Still, a few general characteristics may be observed; in the first place, heresies are no longer metaphysical subtleties as in earlier days; Arius and Priscillian, Nestorius and Euty- chus are dead indeed. In the second place, they no longer arise in the upper and governing class, but pro- ceed especially from the inferior clergy and the common people. The blows which actually threatened the Church of the Middle Ages were struck by obscure laboring men, by the poor and the oppressed, who in their wretchedness and degradation felt that she had failed in her mission. No sooner was a voice uplifted, preaching austerity and simplicity, than it drew together not the laity only, but members of the clergy as well. Toward the close of the twelfth century we find a certain Pons rousing all Perigord, preaching evangelical poverty before the com- ing of St. Francis. Two great currents are apparent: on one side the Cathari, on the other, innumerable sects revolting from the Church by very fidelity to Christianity and the desire to return to the primitive Church. Among the sects of the second category the close of the twelfth century saw in Italy the rise of the Poor Mer, who without doubt were a part of the movement of Arnold of Brescia; they denied the efficacy of sacra- ments administered by unworthy hands.? A true attempt at reform was made by the Waldenses. Their history, although better known, still remains ob- scure on certain sides; their name, Poor Men of Lyons, recalls the former movement, with which they were in 1 1 Recueil des historiens de France. Bouquet, t. xii., pp. 550, 551. 2 Bonacorsi : Vitæ hæreticorum [d'Achery, Spicilegium, t. i., p. 215] Cf. Lucius III., epist. 171, Migne. 38 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS close agreement, as also with the Humiliants. All these names involuntarily suggest that by which St. Francis afterward called his Order. The analogy between the inspiration of Peter Waldo and that of St. Francis was so close that one might be tempted to believe the latter a sort of imitation of the former. It would be a mistake : the same causes produced in all quarters the same effects; ideas of reform, of a return to gospel poverty, were in the air, and this helps us to un- derstand how it was that before many years the Francis- can preaching reverberated through the entire world. If at the outset the careers of these two men were alike, their later lives were very different. Waldo, driven into heresy almost in spite of himself, was obliged to accept the consequences of the premises which he him- self had laid down;? while Francis, remaining the obe- dient son of the Church, bent all his efforts to develop the inner life in himself and his disciples. It is indeed most likely that through his father Francis had become | acquainted with the movement of the Poor Men of Lyons. Hence his oft-repeated counsels to his friars of the duty of submission to the clergy. When he went to seek the approbation of Innocent III., it is evident that the prel- ates with whom he had relations warned him, by the very example of Waldo, of the dangers inherent in his own movement.? The latter had gone to Rome in 1179, accompanied by a few followers, to ask at the same time the approbation of their translation of the Scriptures into the vulgar Vide Bernard Gui, Practica inquisitionis, Douai edition, 4to, Paris, 1886 p. 244 ff., and especially the Vatican MS., 2548, folio 71. ? A chronicle of St. Francis's time makes this same comparison : Bur. chard, Abbot of Urspurg (+ 1226) [Burchardi et Cuonradi chronicon. Mo- num. Germ. hist. Script., t. 23], has left us an account of the approba- tion of Francis by the Pope, all the more precious for being that of a contemporary. Loc. cit., p. 376. THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 39 ܗܝ tongue and the permission to preach. They were granted both requests on condition of gaining for their preaching the authorization of their local clergy. Walter Map (*- 1210), who was charged with their examination, was constrained, while ridiculing their simplicity, to admire their poverty and zeal for the apostolic life. Two or three years later they met a very different reception at Rome, and in 1184 they were anathematized by the Coun- cil of Verona. From that day nothing could stop them, even to the forming of a new Church. They multiplied with a rapidity hardly exceeded afterward by the Fran- ciscans. By the end of the twelfth century we find them spread abroad from Hungary to Spain ; the first attempts to hunt them down were made in the latter country. Other countries were at first satisfied with treating them as excommunicated persons. Obliged to hide themselves, reduced to the impossi- bility of holding their chapters, which ought to have come together once or twice a year, and which, had they done so, might have maintained among them a certain unity of doctrine, the Waldenses rapidly underwent a change according to their environment; some obstinately insisting upon calling themselves good Catholics, others going so far as to preach the overthrow of the hierarchy and the uselessness of sacraments. Hence that mul- tiplicity of differing and even hostile branches which seemed to develop almost hourly. A common persecution brought them nearer to the 2 2 1 De nugis Curialium, Dist. 1, cap. 31, p. 64, Wright's edition. Cf. Chronique de Laon, Bouquet xiii., p. 680. See, for example, the letter of the Italian branch of the Poor Men of Lyons (Pauperos Lombardi] to their brethren of Germany, there called Leonistes. In it they show the points in which they are not in har- mony with the French Waldenses. Published by Preger : Abhand. lungen der K. bayer. Akademie der Wiss. Hist. Cl., t xiii., 1875, P 19 ff. 40 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Cathari and favored the fusion of their ideas. Their activity was inconceivable. Under pretext of pilgrimages to Rome they were always on the road, simple and insin- uating. The methods of travel of that day were pecul- iarly favorable to the diffusion of ideas. While retailing nows to those whose hospitality they received, they would speak of the unhappy state of the Church and the reforms that were needed. Such conversations were a means of apostleship much more efficacious than those of the present day, the book and the newspaper; there is nothing like the viva vox 1 for spreading thought. Many vile stories have been told of the Waldenses ; calumny is far too facile a weapon not to tempt an adversary at bay. Thus they have been charged with the same indecent promiscuities of which the early Chris- tians were accused. In reality their true strength was in their virtues, which strongly contrasted with the vices of the clergy. The most powerful and determined enemies of the Church were the Cathari. Sincere, audacious, often learned and keen in argument, having among them some choice spirits and men of great intellectual powers, they were pre-eminently the heretics of the thirteenth century. Their revolt did not bear upon points of detail and ques- tions of discipline, like that of the early Waldenses; it had a definite doctrinal basis, taking issue with the whole body of Catholic dogma. But, although this heresy flourished in Italy and under the very eyes of St. Francis, there is 1 1 These continual journeyings sometimes gained for them the name of Passagieni, as in the south of France the preachers of certain sects are to-day called Courriers. The term, however, specially designates a Judaizing sect who returned to the literal observation of the Mosaic law : Döllinger, Beiträge, t. ii., pp. 327 and 375. They should therefore be identified with the Circonsisi of the constitution of Frederic II. (Huillard-Brébolles, t. V., p. 280). See especially the fine monograph of M. C. Molinier : Mémoires de l'Académie de Toulouse, 1888. THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 41 need only to indicate it briefly. His work may have received many infiltrations from the Waldensian move- ment, but Catharism was wholly foreign to it. This is naturally explained by the fact that St. Francis never consented to occupy himself with questions of doc- trine. For him faith was not of the intellectual but the moral domain ; it is the consecration of the heart. Time spent in dogmatizing appeared to him time lost. An incident in the life of Brother Egidio well brings out the slight esteem in which theology was held by the early Brothers Minor. One day, in the presence of St. Bonaventura, he cried, perhaps not without a touch of irony, “Alas! what shall we ignorant and simple ones do to merit the favor of God?” “My brother,” replied the famous divine, "you know very well that it suffices to love the Lord." “Are you very sure of that ? ” replied Egidio; “ do you believe that a simple woman might please Him as well as a master in theology ?” Upon the affirmative response of his interlocutor, he ran out into the street and calling to a beggar woman with all his might, “Poor old creature," he exclaimed, “rejoice, for if you love God, you may have a higher place in the kingdom of heaven than Brother Bonaventura !” The Cathari, then, had no direct influence upon St. Francis, but nothing could better prove the disturbance 1 A. SS., Aprilis, t. iii., ? I would say that between the inspiration of Francis and the Catha- rian doctrines there is an irreconcilable opposition ; but it would not be difficult to find acts and words of his which recall the contempt for mat- ter of the Cathari ; for example, his way of treating his body. Some of his counsels to the friars: Unusquisque habet in potestate sua inimi- cum suum videlicit corpus, per quod peccat. Assisi MS. 338, folio 20b. Conform. 138, b. 2.-Cum majorem inimicum corpore non habeam. 2 Cel., 3, 63. These are momentary but inevitable obscurations, moments of forgetfulness, of discouragement, when a man is not himself, and repeats mechanically what he hears said around him. The real St. Francis is, on the contrary, the lover of nature, he who sees in the "1 p. 238d. 2 . 42 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS of thought at this epoch than that resurrection of Mani- cheism. To what a depth of lassitude and folly must religious Italy have fallen for this mixture of Buddhism, Mazdeism, and gnosticism to have taken such hold upon it! The Catharist doctrine rested upon the antago- nism of two principles, one bad, the other good. The first had created matter; the second, the soul, which, for generation after generation passes from one body to another until it achieves salvation. Matter is the cause and the seat of evil; all contact with it constitutes a blemish, consequently the Cathari renounced marriage and property and advocated suicide. All this was mixed up with most complicated cosmogonical myths. Their adherents were divided into two classes_the pure or perfect, and the believers, who were proselytes in the second degree, and whose obligations were very simple. The adepts, properly so called, were initiated by the ceremony of the consolamentum or imposition of hands, which induced the descent upon them of the Con- soling Spirit. Among them were enthusiasts who after this ceremony placed themselves in endura—that is to say, they starved themselves to death in order not to descend from this state of grace. In Languedoc, where this sect went by the name of Albigenses, they had an organization which embraced all Central Europe, and everywhere supported flourish- ing schools attended by the children of the nobles. In Italy they were hardly less powerful; Concorrezo, near whole creation the work of divine goodness, the radiance of the eternal beauty, he who, in the Canticle of the Creatures, sees in the body not the Enemy but a brother: Cæpit hilariter loqui ad corpus; Gaude, frater corpus. 2 Cel., 3, 137. Quodann die, dicta fabrissa dixit ipsi testi prægnanti, quod rogaret Deum, ut liberaret cam a Dæmone, quem habebat in ventre Gulielmus dixit quod ita magnum peccatum erat jacere cum uxore sua quam cum concubina. Döllinger, loc. cit., pp. 24, 35. 1 THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 43 1 3 Monza in Lombardy, and Bagnolo, gave their names to two congregations slightly different from those in Lan- guedoc. But it was especially from Milan? that they spread abroad over all the Peninsula, making proselytes even in the most remote districts of Calabria. The state of anar- chy prevailing in the country was very favorable to them. The papacy was too much occupied in baffling the spas- modic efforts of the Hohenstaufen, to put the necessary perseverance and system into its struggles against here- oy. Thus the new ideas were preached under the very shadow of the Lateran ; in 1209, Otho IV., coming to Rome to be crowned, found there a school in which Mani- cheism was publicly taught. With all his energy Innocent III. had not been able to check this evil in the States of the Church. The case of Viterbo tells much of the difficulty of repressing it; in March, 1199, the pope wrote to the clergy and people of this town to recall to their minds, and at the same time to increase, the penalties pronounced against heresy. For all that, the Patarini had the majority in 1205, and succeeded in naming one of themselves consul. 1 Those of the Concorrezenses and Bajolenses. In Italy Cathari be- comes Gazzari ; for that matter, each country had its special appella- tives; one of the most general in the north was that of the Bulgari, which marks the oriental origin of the sect, whence the slang term Boulgres and its derivatives (vide Matthew Paris, ann. 1238). Cf. Schmit, Histoire des Cathares, 8vo, 2 vols, Paris, 1849. ? The most current name in Italy was that of the Patarini, given them no doubt from their inhabiting the quarter of second-hand dealers in Milan : la contrada dei Patari, found in many cities. Paturi! is still the cry of the ragpickers in the small towns of Provence. In the thir- teenth century Patarino and Catharo were synonyms. But before that the term Patarini had an entirely different sense. See the very remark, able study of M. Felice Tocco on this subject in his Eresia nel medio evo, 12mo, Florence, 1884. 3 Cesar von Heisterbach, Dial. mirac., t. i., p. 309, Strange's edition. : Innocentii opera, Migne, t. i., col. 537: t. ii.. 654. 4 44 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS The wrath of the pontiff at this event was unbounded; he fulminated a bull menacing the city with fire and sword, and commanding the neighboring towns to throw themselves upon her if within a fortnight she had not given satisfaction. It was all in vain: the Patarini were dealt with only as a matter of form ; it needed the pres- ence of the pope himself to assure the execution of his orders and obtain the demolition of the houses of the heretics and their abettors (autumn of 1207).? But stifled at one point the revolt burst out at a hun. dred others; at this moment it was triumphant on all sides; at Ferrara, Verona, Rimini, Florence, Prato, Faenza, Treviso, Piacenza. The clergy were expelled from this last town, which remained more than three years without a priest.3 Viterbo is twenty leagues from Assisi, Orvieto only ten, and disturbances in this town were equally grave. A noble Roman, Pietro Parentio, the deputy of the Holy See in this place, endeavored to exterminate the Patarini. He was assassinated.4 But Francis needed not to go even so far as Orvieto to become acquainted with heretics. In Assisi the same things were going on as in the neighboring cities. In 1203 this town had elected for podestà a heretic named Giraldo di Gilberto, and in spite of warnings from Rome had persisted in keeping him at the head of affairs until the expiration of his term of office (1204). Innocent III., who had not yet been obliged to use vigor with Viterbo, 1 Computruistis in peccatis sicut jumenta in stercore suo ut fumus ao fimus putrefactionis vestræ jam fere circumadjacentes regionis infecerit, ao ipsum Dominum ut credimus ad nauseam provocaverit. Loc. cit., col. 654. Cf. 673; Potthast, 2532, 2539. ? Gesta Innocentii, Migne, t. i., col. clxii. Cf. epist. viii., 85 and 105. Campi, Historia Ecclesiastica di Piacenza, parte ii., p. 92 ff. Cf. In noc., epist. ix., 131, 166-169; X., 54, 64, 222. • A. SS., Maii, t. V., p. 87. 3 THE CHURCH ABOUT 1200 45 I resorted to persuasion and despatched to Umbria the Car- dinal Leo di Santa Croce, who will appear more than once in this history. The successor of Giraldo and fifty of the principal citizens made the amende honorable and swore fidelity to the Church. It is easy to perceive in what a state of ferment Italy was during these early years of the thirteenth century. The moral discredit of the clergy must have been deep indeed for souls to have turned toward Manicheism with such ardor. Italy.may well be grateful to St. Francis; it was as much infected with Catharism as Languedoc, and it was he who wrought its purification. He did not pause to demonstrate by syllogisms or theological theses the vanity of the Catharist doctrines; but soaring as on wings to the religious life, he suddenly made a new ideal to shine out before the eyes of his contemporaries, an ideal before which all these fantastic sects vanished as birds of the night take flight at the first rays of the x sun. A great part of St. Francis's power came to him thus through his systematic avoidance of polemics. The latter is always more or less a form of spiritual pride; it only deepens the chasm which it undertakes to fill up. Truth needs not to be proved ; it is its own witness. The only weapon which he would use against the wicked was the holiness of a life so full of love as to enlighten and revive those about him, and compel them 1 Bull of June 6, 1205, Potthast, 2237; Migne, vii., 83. This Cardinal Leo (of the presbyterial title of Holy Cross of Jerusalem) was one most valued by Innocent III. To him and Ugolini, the future Gregory IX., he at this epoch confided the most delicate missions (for example, in 1209, they were named legates to Otho IV.). This embassy shows in what importance the pope held the affairs of Assisi, though it was a very small city. 46 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS to love." (The disappearance of Catharism in Italy, with- out an upheaval, and above all without the Inquisition, is thus an indirect result of the Franciscan movement, and not the least important among them.? At the voice of the Umbrian reformer Italy roused herself, recovered her good sense and fine temper; she cast out those doctrines of pessimism and death, as a ro- bust organism casts out morbid substances. I have already endeavored to show the strong analogy between the initial efforts of Francis and those of the Poor Men of Lyons. His thought ripened in an atmos- phere thoroughly saturated with their ideas; uncon- sciously to himself they entered into his being. The prophecies of the Calabrian abbot exerted upon him an influence quite as difficult to appreciate, but no less profound. Standing on the confines of Italy and as it were at the threshold of Greece, Gioacchino di Fiore 3 was the last link in a chain of monastic prophets, who during nearly four hundred years succeeded one another in the monas- teries and hermitages of Southern Italy. The most famous among them had been St. Nilo, a sort of untamed John the Baptist, living in desert places, but suddenly emerging from them when his duties of maintaining the right called him elsewhere. We see him on one oc- casion appearing in Rome itself, to announce to pope and emperor the unloosing of the divine wrath. | Not once do-we-find him fighting heretics. The early Dominicans, on the contrary, are incessantly occupied with arguing. See 2 Cel., 3, 46. It need not be said that I do not assert that no trace of it is to be found after the ministry of St. Francis, but it was no longer a force, and no longer endangered the very existence of the Church. * This strange personality will charm historians and philosopliers for a long while to come. I know nothing more learned or more luminous than M. Felice Tocco's fine study in his Eresia nel medio evo, Florence, 1884, 1 vol., 12mo, pp. 261-409. 4 A SS., Sept., t. vii., p. 283 ff. 4 THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 47 The ages Scattered in the Alpine solitudes of Basilicata these Calabrian hermits were continually obliged to retreat higher and higher into the mountain fastnesses to escape the populace, who, pursued by pirates, were taking refuge in these mountains. They thus passed their lives between heaven and earth, with two seas for their horizon. Disquieted by fear of the corsairs, and by the war-cries whose echoes reached even to them, they turned their thoughts toward the future. The of great terror are also the ages of great hope; it is to the captivity of Babylon that we owe, with the second part of Isaiah, those pictures of the future which have not yet ceased to charm the soul of man; Nero's per- secutions gave us the Apocalypse of St. John, and the paroxysms of the twelfth century the eternal Gospel. Converted after a life of dissipation, Gioacchino di Fiore travelled extensively in the Holy Land, Greece, and Constantinople. Returning to Italy he began, though a layman, to preach in the outskirts of Rende and Cosen- Later on he joined the Cistercians of Cortale, near Catanzaro, and there took vows. Shortly after elected abbot of the monastery in spite of refusal and even flight, he was seized after a few years with the nostalgia of solitude, and sought from Pope Lucius III. a dis- charge from his functions (1181), that he might conse- crate all his time to the works which he had in mind. The pope granted his request, and even permitted him to go wherever he might deem best in the interest of his work. Then began for Gioacchino a life of wandering from convent to convent, which carried him even as far as Lombardy, to Verona, where we find him with Pope Urban III. When he returned to the south, a group of disciples gathered around him to hear his explanations of the most obscure passages of the Bible. Whether he would or no za. 48 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS he was obliged to receive them, to talk with them, to give them a rule, and, finally, to instal them in the very heart of the Sila, the Black Forest of Italy,' over against the highest peak, in gorges where the silence is interrupted only by the murmurs of the Arvo and the Neto, which have their source not far from there. The new Athos received the name of Fiore (flower), transparent symbol of the hopes of its founder. It was there that he put the finishing touch to writings which, after fifty years of neglect, were to become the starting-point of all heresies, and the aliment of all souls burdened with the salvation of Christendom. The men of the first half of the thir- teenth century, too much occupied with other things, did not perceive that the spiritual streams at which they were drinking descended from the snowy mountain-tops of Calabria. It is always thus with mystical influences. There is in them something vague, tenuous, and penetrating which escapes an exact estimation. Let two choice souls meet, and they will find it a difficult thing to analyze and name the impressions which each has received from the other. It is so with an epoch; it is not always those who speak to her the oftenest and loudest whom she best understands; nor even those at whose feet she sits, a faithful pupil, day after day. Sometimes, while on the way to her accus- tomed masters, she suddenly meets a stranger; she bare- ly catches a few words of what he says; she knows not whence he comes nor whither he goes; she never sees him again, but those few words of his go on surging in the depths of her soul, agitating and disquieting her. A. SS., Maii, vii. ; Vincent de Beauvais, Speculum historiale, lib. 29, cap. 40. La Sila is a wooded mountain, situated eastward from Cosenza, which the peasants call Monte Nero. The summits are nearly 2,000 metres above the sea. ? Toward 1195. Gioacchino died there, March 30, 1202. THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 48 Thus it was for a long while with Gioacchino di Fiore. His teachings, scattered here and there by enthusiastic disciples, were germinating silently in many hearts.? Giving back hope to men, they restored to them strength also. To think is already to act; alone under the shadow of the hoary pines which surrounded his cell, the cenobite of Fiore was laboring for the renovation of the Church with as much vigor as the reformers who came after him. He was, however, far from attaining the height of the prophets of Israel; instead of soaring like them to the very heavens, he always remained riveted to the text, upon which he commented in the allegorical method, and whence by this method he brought out the most fantastic improbabilities. A few pages of his books would wear out the most patient reader, but in these fields, burnt over by theological arguments more drying than the winds of the desert, fields where one at first perceives only stones and thistles, one comes at last to the charming oasis, with repose and dreams in its shade. The exegesis of Gioacchino di Fiore in fact led up to a sort of philosophy of history; its grand lines were calcu- lated to make a striking appeal to the imagination. The life of humanity is divided into three periods : in the first, under the reign of the Father, men lived under the rigor of the law; in the second, reigned over by the Son, A whole apochryphal literature has blossomed out around Gioacchino; certain hypercritics have tried to prove that he never wrote anything. These are exaggerations. Three large works are certainly authentic: The Agreement of the Old and New Testaments, The Commontary on the Apocalypse, and The Psaltery of Ten Strings, published in Venice, the first in 1517, the two others in 1527. His prophecies were so well known, even in his lifetime, that an English Cistercian, Rudolph, Abbot of Coggeshall ( 1228), coming to Rome in 1195, sought a conference with him and has left us an interesting account of it. Martène, Amplissima Collectio, t. V., p. 839. 4 50 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS men live under the rule of grace; in the third, the Spirit shall reign and men shall live in the plenitude of love. The first is the period of servile obedience; the second, that of filial obedience; the third, that of liberty. In the first, men lived in fear; in the second, they rest in faith ; in the third, they shall burn with love. The first saw the shining of the stars; the second sees the whitening of the dawn; the third will behold the glory of the day. The first produced nettles, the second gives roses, the third will be the age of lilies. If now we consider that in the thought of Gioacchino the third period, the Age of the Spirit, was about to open, we shall understand with what enthusiasm men hailed the words which restored joy to hearts still disturbed with millenarian fears. It is evident that St. Francis knew these radiant hopes. Who knows even that it was not the Calabrian Seer who awoke his heart to its transports of love ? If this be so, Gioacchino was not merely his precursor; he was his true spiritual father. However this may be, St. Francis found in Gioacchino's thought many of the ele- ments which, unconsciously to himself, were to become the foundation of his institute. The noble disdain which he shows for all men of learning, and which he sought to inculcate upon his Order, was for Gioacchino one of the characteristics of the new era. “The truth which remains hidden to the wise," he says, “is revealed to babes; dialectics closes that which is open, obscures that which is clear; it is the mother of useless talk, of rivalries and blasphemy. Learning does not edify, and it may destroy, as is proved by the scribes of the Church, swollen with pride and arrogance, who by dint of reasoning fall into heresy." We have seen that the return to evangelical simplicity 1 Comm. in apoc., folio 78, b. 2. 1 THE CHURCH ABOUT 1209 01 5 had become a necessity; all the heretical sects were on this point in accord with pious Catholics, but no one spoke in a manner so Franciscan as Gioacchino di Fiore. Not only did he make voluntary poverty one of the characteristics of the age of lilies, but he speaks of it in his pages with so profound, so living an emotion, that St. Francis could do little more than repeat his words. The ideal monk whom he describes, whose only property is a lyre, is a true Franciscan before the letter, him of whom the Poverello of Assisi always dreamed. The feeling for nature also bursts forth in him with in- comparable vigor. One day he was preaching in a chapel which was plunged in almost total darkness, the sky be- ing quite overcast with clouds. Suddenly the clouds broke away, the sun shone, the church was flooded with light. Gioacchino paused, saluted the sun, intoned the Veni Creator, and led his congregation out to gaze upon the landscape. It would be by no means surprising if toward 1205 Francis should have heard of this prophet, toward whom so many hearts were turning, this anchorite who, gazing up into heaven, spoke with Jesus as a friend talks with his friend, yet knew also how to come down to console men and warm the faces of the dying at his own breast. At the other end of Europe, in the heart of Germany, the same causes had produced the same effects. From the excess of the people's sufferings and the despair of religious souls was being born a movement of apocalyp- tic mysticism which seemed to have secret communica- tion with that which was rousing the Peninsula. They had the same views of the future, the same anxious ex- pectation of new cataclysms, joined with a prospect of a reviving of the Church, Qui vere monachus est nihil reputat esse suum nisi citharam: Apoc., ib., folio 183. a 2. 1 52 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Cry with a loud voice," said her guardian angel to St. Elizabeth of Schonau (* 1164), “ cry to all nations : Woe! for the whole world has become darkness. The Lord's vine has withered, there is no one to tend it. The Lord has sent laborers, but they have all been found idle. The head of the Church is ill and her members are dead. Shepherds of my Church, you are sleep- ing, but I shall awaken you! Kings of the earth, the cry of your iniquity has risen even to me.” 1 “Divine justice,” said St. Hildegarde (* 1178), “shall have its hour; the last of the seven epochs symbolized by the seven days of creation has arrived, the judg- ments of God are about to be accomplished; the empire and the papacy, sunk into impiety, shall crumble away together. But upon their ruins shall appear a new nation of God, a nation of prophets illuminated from on high, living in poverty and solitude. Then the divine mysteries shall be revealed, and the saying of Joel shall be fulfilled; the Holy Spirit shall shed abroad upon the people the dew of his prophecies, of his wisdom and holiness; the heathen, the Jews, the worldly and the unbelieving shall be converted together, spring-time and peace shall reign over a regenerated world, and the an- gels will return with confidence to dwell among men." These hopes were not wholly confounded. In the evening of his days the prophet of Fiore was able, like a new Simeon, to utter his Nunc dimittis, and for a few years Christendom could turn in amazement tú Assisi as to a new Bethlehem. ' E. Roth, Die Visionen der heiligen Elisabeth von Schönau : Brünn, 1884, pp. 115-117. CHAPTER IV STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPH Spring of 1206—February 24, 1209 The biographies of St. Francis have preserved to us an incident which shows how great was the religious ferment even in the little city of Assisi. A stranger was seen to go up and down the streets saying to every one he met, “Peace and welfare !” (Pax et bonum.)" He thus expressed in his own way the disquietude of those hearts which could neither resign themselves to perpet- ual warfare nor to the disappearance of faith and love; artless echo, vibrating in response to the hopes and fears that were shaking all Europe ! “Vox clamantis in deserto !" it will be said. No, for every heart-cry leaves its trace even when it seems to be uttered in empty air, and that of the Unknown of As- sisi may have contributed in some measure to Francis's definitive call. Since his abrupt return from Spoleto, life in his fa- ther's house had become daily more difficult. Bernar- done's self-love had received from his son's discomfiture such a wound as with commonplace men is never healed. He might provide, without counting it, money to be swallowed up in dissipation, that so his son might stand on an equal footing with the young nobles; he could never resign himself to see him giving with lavish hands to every beggar in the streets. 13 Soc., 26. 04 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Francis, continually plunged in reverie and spending his days in lonely wanderings in the fields, was no longer of the least use to his father. Months passed, and the distance between the two men grew ever wider; and the gentle and loving Pica could do nothing to prevent a rupture which from this time appeared to be inevitable. Francis soon came to feel only one desire, to flee from the abode where, in the place of love, he found only re- proaches, upbraidings, anguish. The faithful confidant of his earlier struggles had been obliged to leave him, and this absolute solitude weighed heavily upon his warm and loving heart. He did what he could to escape from it, but no one understood him. The ideas which he was beginning timidly to express evoked from those to whom he spoke only mocking smiles or the head-shakings which men sure that they are right bestow upon him who is marching straight to madness. He even went to open his mind to the bish- op, but the latter understood no more than others his vague, incoherent plans, filled with ideas impossible to realize and possibly subversive. It was thus that in spite of himself Francis was led to ask nothing of men, but to raise himself by prayer to intuitive knowledge of the divine will. The doors of houses and of hearts were alike closing upon him, but the interior voice was about to speak out with irresistible force and make itself for- ever obeyed. Among the numerous chapels in the suburbs of Assisi there was one which he particularly loved, that of St. Damian. It was reached by a few minutes' walk over a stony path, almost trackless, under olive trees, amid odors of lavender and rosemary. Standing on the top of a hillock, the entire plain is visible from it, through a curtain of cypresses and pines which seem to be trying 1 3 Soc., 10. STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPH 55 + to hide the humble hermitage and set up an ideal barrier between it and the world. Served by a poor priest who had scarely the where- withal for necessary food, the sanctuary was falling into ruin. There was nothing in the interior but a simple altar of masonry, and by way of reredos one of those byzantine crucifixes still so numerous in Italy, where through the work of the artists of the time has come down to us something of the terrors which agitated the twelfth century. In general the Crucified One, frightfully lac- erated, with bleeding wounds, appears to seek to in- spire only grief and compunction ; that of St. Damian, on the contrary, has an expression of inexpressible calm and gentleness; instead of closing the eyelids in eternal surrender to the weight of suffering, it looks down in self-forgetfulness, and its pure, clear gaze says, not "I suffer," but, “ Come unto me.” 1 One day Francis was praying before the poor altar : “Great and glorious God, and thou, Lord Jesus, I pray ye, shed abroad your light in the darkness of my mind. . Be found of me, Lord, so that in all things I may act only in accordance with thy holy will.” 2 Thus he prayed in his heart, and behold, little by little it seemed to him that his gaze could not detach itself from that of Jesus; he felt something marvellous taking place in and around him. The sacred victim took on life, and in the outward silence he was aware of a voice which softly stole into the very depths of his heart, speaking to him an ineffable language. Jesus accepted his oblation. Jesus desired his labor, his life, all his being, and the heart of the poor solitary was already bathed in light and strength. 0 3 1 This crucifix is preserved in the sacristy of Santa Chiara, whither the sisters carried it when they left St. Damian. ? Opuscula B. Francisci, Oratio 1. 3 3 Soc., 13; 2 Cel., 1,6 ; Bon., 12 ; 15; 16. 56 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS This vision marks the final triumph of Francis. His union with Christ is consummated ; from this time he can exclaim with the mystics of every age, "My beloved is mine, and I am his." But instead of giving himself up to transports of con- templation he at once asks himself how he may repay tc Jesus love for love, in what action he shall employ this life which he has just offered to him. He had not long to seek. We have seen that the chapel where his spiritual espousals had just been celebrated was threatened with ruin. He believed that to repair it was the work assigned to him. From that day the remembrance of the Crucified One, the thought of the love which had triumphed in immo- lating itself, became the very centre of his religious life and as it were the soul of his soul. For the first time, no doubt, Francis had been brought into direct, per- sonal, intimate contact with Jesus Christ; from belief he had passed to faith, to that living faith which a dis- tinguished thinker has so well defined : “To believe is to look; it is a serious, attentive, and prolonged look ; a look more simple than that of observation, a look which looks, and nothing more; artless, infantine, it has all the soul in it, it is a look of the soul and not the mind, a look which does not seek to analyze its object, but which receives it as a whole into the soul through the eyes.” In these words Vinet unconsciously has mar- vellously characterized the religious temperament of St. Francis. This look of love cast upon the crucifix, this mysterious colloquy with the compassionate victim, was never more to cease. At St. Damian, St. Francis's piety took on its outward appearance and its originality. From this time his soul bears the stigmata, and as his biographers have said in words untranslatable, Ab illa hora vulnera- STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPH 597 tun et liquefactum est cor ejus ed memoriam Dominicæ passionis.1 From that time his way was plain before him. Coming out from the sanctuary, he gave the priest all the money he had about him to keep a lamp always burning, and with ravished heart he returned to Assisi. He had decided to quit his father's house and undertake the restoration of the chapel, after having broken the last... ties that bound him to the past. A horse and a few pieces of gayly colored stuffs were all that he possessed. Arrived at home he made a packet of the stuffs, and mounting his horse he set out for Foligno. This city was then as now the most important commercial town of all the region. Its fairs attracted the whole population of Umbria and the Sabines. Bernardone had often tak- en his son there, and Francis speedily succeeded in sell- ing all he had brought. He even parted with his horse, and full of joy set out upon the road to Assisi.3 This act was to him most important; it marked his final rupture with the past; from this day on his life was to be in all points the opposite of what it had been; the Crucified had given himself to him; he on his side had given himself to the Crucified without reserve or return. To uncertainty, disquietude of soul, anguish, longing for an unknown good, bitter regrets, had succeeded a deli- cious calm, the ecstasy of the lost child who finds his mother, and forgets in a moment the torture of his heart. From Foligno he returned direct to St. Damian ; it was not necessary to pass through the city, and he was in haste to put his projects into execution. 1 3 Soc., 14. 2 This incident is found in the narrative of 1 Cel., 8: Tot. ex more venditis. 31 Cel., 8; 3 Soc., 16 ; Bon. 16. Foligno is a three hours' walk from Assisi, 58 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS 1 The poor priest was surprised enough when Francis handed over to him the whole product of his sale. He doubtless thought that a passing quarrel had occurred between Bernardone and his son, and for greater pru- dence refused the gift; but Francis so insisted upon re- maining with him that he finally gave him leave to do so. As to the money, now become useless, Francis cast it as a worthless object upon a window-seat in the chapel. Meanwhile Bernardone, disturbed by his son's fail- ure to return, sought for him in all quarters, and was not long in learning of his presence at St. Damian. In a moment he perceived that Francis was lost to him. Resolved to try every means, he collected a few neigh- bors, and furious with rage hastened to the hermitage to snatch him away, if need were, by main force. But Francis knew his father's violence. When he heard the shouts of those who were in pursuit of him he felt his courage fail and hurried to a hiding-place which he had prepared for himself for precisely such an emer- gency. Bernardone, no doubt ill seconded in the search, ransacked every corner, but was obliged at last to return to Assisi without his son. Francis remained hidden for long days, weeping and groaning, imploring God to show him the path he ought to follow. Notwithstanding his fears he had an infinite joy at heart, and at no price would he have turned back.? This seclusion could not last long. Francis perceived this, and told himself that for a newly made knight of the Christ he was cutting a very pitiful figure. Arming him- self, therefore, with courage, he went one day to the city to present himself before his father and make known to him his resolution. It is easy to imagine the changes wrought in his ap- 11 Cel., 9; 3 Soc., 16 ; Bon., 6. Cf. A. SS., ? 1 Cel., 10; 3 Soc., 16 ; Bon. 17, A. SS.; p. 568. p. 567. STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPH 59 t pearance by these few weeks of seclusion, passed much of them in mental anguish. When he appeared, pale, cadaverous, his clothes in tatters, upon what is now the Piazza Nuova, where hundreds of children play all day long, he was greeted with a great shout, “ Pazzo, Pazzo ! ” (A madman! a madman!) “Un pazzo ne fa cento" (One madman makes a hundred more), says the proverb, but one must have seen the delirious excitement of the street children of Italy at the sight of a madman to gain an idea how true it is. The moment the magic cry resounds they rush into the street with frightful din, and while their parents look on from the windows, they surround the unhappy sufferer with wild dances mingled with songs, shouts, and savage howls. They throw stones at him, fling mud upon him, blindfold him; if he flies into a rage, they double their insults; if he weeps or begs for pity, they repeat his cries and mimic his sobs and supplications without respite and without mercy. Bernardone soon heard the clamor which filled the nar- row streets, and went out to enjoy the show; suddenly he thought he heard his own name and that of his son, and bursting with shame and rage he perceived Francis. Throwing himself upon him, as if to throttle him, he dragged him into the house and cast him, half dead, into a dark closet. Threats, bad usage, everything was brought to bear to change the prisoner's resolves, but all in vain. At last, wearied out and desperate, he left him in peace, though not without having firmly bound him. A few days after he was obliged to be absent for a short time. Pica, his wife, understood only too well his grievances against Francis, but feeling that violence would be of no avail she resolved to try gentleness. It was all in vain. Then, not being able longer to see him thus tortured, she set him at liberty. 11 Cel., 11. ? 1 Cel., 12 ; 3 Soc., 17; Bon., 18. 1 2 60 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS He returned straight to St. Damian.' Bernardone, on his return, went so far as to strike Pica in punishment for her weakness. Then, unable to toler- ate the thought of seeing his son the jest of the whole city, he tried to procure his expulsion from the territory of Assisi. Going to St. Damian he summoned him to leave the country. This time Francis did not try to hide. Boldly presenting himself before his father, he declared to him that not only would nothing induce him to aban- don his resolutions, but that, moreover, having become the servant of Christ, he had no longer to receive orders from him. As Bernardone launched out into invective, reproaching him with the enormous sums which he had cost him, Francis showed him by a gesture the money which he had brought back from the sale at Foligno lying on the window-ledge. The father greedily seized it and went away, resolving to appeal to the magistrates. The consuls summoned Francis to appear before them, but he replied simply that as servant of the Church he did not come under their jurisdiction. Glad of this re- sponse, which relieved them of a delicate dilemma, they referred the complainant to the diocesan authorities. The matter took on another aspect before the ecclesi- astical tribunal; it was idle to dream of asking the bishop to pronounce a sentence of banishment, since it was his part to preserve the liberty of the clerics. Bernardone could do no more than disinherit his son, or at least induce him of his own accord to renounce all claim upon his inheritance. This was not difficult. When called upon to appear before the episcopal tri- 2 11 Cel., 13 ; 3 Soc., 18. 1 Cel., 13. It is possible that at this epoch he had received the lesser order, and that thus he might be subject to the jurisdiction of the Church. 3 3 Soc., 18 and 19; 1 Cel, 14; Bon., STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPH 61 bunal1 Francis experienced a lively joy; his mystical espousals to the Crucified One were now to receive a sort of official consecration. To this Jesus, whom he had so often blasphemed and betrayed by word and conduct, he would now be able with equal publicity to promise obe- dience and fidelity. It is easy to imagine the sensation which all this caused in a small town like Assisi, and the crowd that on the appointed day pressed toward the Piazza of Santa Maria Maggiore, where the bishop pronounced sentence. Ev- ery one held Francis to be assuredly mad, but they anticipated with relish the shame and rage of Bernar- done, whom every one detested, and whose pride was so well punished by all this. The bishop first set forth the case, and advised Francis to simply give up all his property. To the great surprise of the crowd the latter, instead of replying, retired to a room in the bishop's Palace, and immediately reap- peared absolutely naked, holding in his hand the packet into which he had rolled his clothes; these he laid down before the bishop with the little money that he still had kept, saying: “Listen, all of you, and understand it well; until this time I have called Pietro Bernardone my father, but now I desire to serve God. This is why I return to him this money, for which he has given himself so much trouble, as well as my clothing, and all that I have had from him, for from henceforth I desire to say nothing else than 'Our Father, who art in heaven.' A long murmur arose from the crowd when Bernardone was seen to gather up and carry off the clothing without the least evidence of compassion, while the bishop was ? From 1204 until after the death of St. Francis the episcopal throne of Assisi was occupied by Guido II. Vide Cristofano, 1, 169 ff. ? Piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore o del vescovado. Everything has l'emained pretty nearly in the same state as in the thirteenth century. 62 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS 1 fain to take under his mantle the poor Francis, who was trembling with emotion and cold. The scene of the judgment hall made an immense im- pression; the ardor, simplicity, and indignation of Fran- cis had been so profound and sincere that scoffers were disconcerted. On that day he won for himself a secret sympathy in many souls. The populace loves such ab- rupt conversions, or those which it considers such. Fran- cis once again forced himself upon the attention of his fellow-citizens with a power all the greater for the con- trast between his former and his new life. There are pious folk whose modesty is shocked by the nudity of Francis; but Italy is not Germany nor Eng- land, and the thirteenth century would have been aston- ished indeed at the prudery of the Bollandists. The incident is simply a new manifestation of Francis's char- acter, with its ingenuousness, its exaggerations, its long- ing to establish a complete harmony, a literal corre- spondence, between words and actions. After emotions such as he had just experienced he felt the need of being alone, of realizing his joy, of singing the liberty he had finally achieved along all the lines where once he had so deeply suffered, so ardently struggled. He would not, therefore, return immediately to St. Damian. Leaving the city by the nearest gate, he plunged into the deserted paths which climb the sides of Mount Subasio. It was the early spring. Here and there were still great drifts of snow, but under the ardor of the March sun winter seemed to own itself vanquished. In the midst of this mysterious and bewildering harmony the heart of Francis felt a delicious thrill, all his being was calmed and uplifted, the soul of things caressed him gently and shed upon him peace. An unwonted hap- 11 Cel., 15 ; 3 Soc., 20; Bon. 20. STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPB 83 pines out over him; he made the forest to resound with his hymns of praise. Men utter in song emotions too sweet or too deep to be expressed in ordinary language, but unworded music is in this respect superior to song, it is above all things the language of the ineffable. Song gains almost the same value when the words are only there as a support for the voice. The great beauty of the psalms and hymns of the Church lies in the fact that being sung in an unknown tongue they make no appeal to the intelligence; they say nothing, but they express everything with marvellous modulations like a celestial accompaniment, which fol- lows the believer's emotions from the most agonizing struggles to the most unspeakable ecstasies. So Francis went on his way, deeply inhaling the odors of spring, singing at the top of his voice one of those songs of French chivalry which he had learned in days gone by. The forest in which he was walking was the usual re- treat of such people of Assisi and its environs as had any reason for hiding. Some ruffians, aroused by his voice, suddenly fell upon him. . “Who are you?” they asked. “I am the herald of the great King,” he an- swered; "but what is that to you?” His only garment was an old mantle which the bish- op's gardener had lent him at his master's request. They stripped it from him, and throwing him into a ditch full of snow, “There is your place, poor herald of God," they said. The robbers gone, he shook off the snow which covered him, and after may efforts succeeded in extricating him- self from the ditch. Stiff with cold, with no other cover- ing than a worn-out shirt, he none the less resumed his singing, happy to suffer and thus to accustom himself the better to understand the words of the Crucified One. -- 13 Soc., 16 ; Bon., 21. 64 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Not far away was a monastery. He entered and offered his services. In those solitudes, peopled often by such undesirable neighbors, people were suspicious. The monks permitted him to make himself useful in the kitchen, but they gave him nothing to cover himself with and hardly anything to eat. There was nothing for it but to go away; he directed his steps toward Gubbio, where he knew that he should find a friend. Perhaps this was he who had been his confidant on his return from Spoleto. However this may be, he received from him a tunic, and a few days after set out to return to his dear St. Damian.1 He did not, however, go directly thither; before be- ginning to restore the little sanctuary, he desired to see again his friends, the lepers, to promise them that he would love them even better than in the past. Since his first visit to the leper-house the brilliant cavalier had become a poor beggar; he came with empty hands but with heart overflowing with tenderness and compassion. Taking up his abode in the midst of these afflicted ones he lavished upon them the most touching care, washing and wiping their sores, all the more gentle and radiant as their sores were more repulsive. The neglected sufferer is as much blinded by love of him who comes to visit him as the child by its love for its mother. He believes him to be all powerful ; at his approach the most painful sufferings are eased or disappear. 11 Cel., 16 ; Bon. 21. The curious will read with interest an article by M. Mezzatinti upon the journey to Gubbio entitled S. Francesco e Frederico Spadalunga da Gubbio. [Miscellanea, t. v., pp. 76–78.] This Spadalunga da Gubbio was well able to give a garment to Francis, but it is very possible that the gift was made much later and that this solemn date in the saint's life has been fixed by an optical illusion, almost inevitable because of the identity of the fact with the name of the locality. ? 1 Cel., 17; Bon., 11 ; 13; 21; 22 ; 3 Soc., 11 ; A. SS., p. 575. STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPH 65 This love inspired by the sympathy of an affectionate heart may become so deep as to appear at times super- natural; the dying have been known to recover con- sciousness in order to look for the last time into the face, not of some member of the family, but of the friend who has tried to be the sunshine of their last days. The ties of pure love are stronger than the bonds of flesh and blood. Francis had many a time sweet experience of this ; from the time of his arrival at the leper-house he felt that if he had lost his life he was about to find it again. Encouraged by his sojourn among the lepers, he re- turned to St. Damian and went to work, filled with joy and ardor, his heart as much in the sunshine as the Umbrian plain in this beautiful month of May. After having fashioned for himself a hermit's dress, he began to go into the squares and open places of the city. There having sung a few hymns, he would announce to those who gathered around him his project of restoring the chapel. “Those who will give me one stone,” he would add with a smile, “shall have a reward ; those who give me two shall have two rewards, and those who give me three shall have three." Many deemed him mad, but others were deeply moved by the remembrance of the past. As for Francis, deaf to mockery, he spared himself no labor, carrying upon his shoulders, so ill-fitted for severe toil, the stones which were given him. During this time the poor priest of St. Damian felt his heart swelling with love for this companion who had at first caused him such embarrassment, and he strove to prepare for him his favorite dishes. Francis soon per- ceived it. His delicacy took alarm at the expense which he caused his friend, and, thanking him, he resolved to beg his food from door to door. 11 Cel., 18; 3 Soc., 21; Bon., 23. 1 66 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS It was not an easy task. The first time, when at the end of his round he glanced at the broken food in his wallet, he felt his courage fail him. But the thought of being so soon unfaithful to the spouse to whom he had plighted his faith made his blood run cold with shame and gave him strength to eat ravenously." Each hour, so to speak, brought to him a new struggle. One day he was going through the town begging for oil for the lamps of St. Damian, when he arrived at a house where a banquet was going on; the greater number of his former companions were there, singing and danc- ing. At the sound of those well-known voices he felt as if he could not enter; he even turned away, but very soon, filled with confusion by his own cowardice, he returned quickly upon his steps, made his way into the banquet-hall, and after confessing his shame, put so much earnestness and fire into his request that every one de- sired to co-operate in this pious work. His bitterest trial however was his father's anger, which remained as violent as ever. Although he had renounced Francis, Bernardone's pride suffered none the less at seeing his mode of life, and whenever he met his son he overwhelmed him with reproaches and maledic- tions. The tender heart of Francis was so wrung with sorrow that he resorted to a sort of stratagem for charming away, the spell of the paternal imprecations. Come with me,” he said to a beggar; “be to me as a father, and I will give you a part of the alms which I receive. When you see Bernardone curse me, if I say, ' Bless me, my father, you must sign me with the cross and bless me in his stead."3 His brother was prominent in the front rank of those who harassed him with their mockeries. One winter morning they met in a church; 13 Soc., 22; 2 Cel., 1, 9. 3 Soc., 24; 2 Cel., 8; Spec., 24. 3 3 Soc., 23 ; 2 Cel., 7. 2 60 STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPH 67 Angelo leaned over to a friend who was with him, saying: Go, ask Francis to sell you a farthing's worth of his sweat." "No," replied the latter, who overheard. . “I shall sell it much dearer to my God." In the spring of 1208 he finished the restoration of St. Damian; he had been aided by all people of good will, setting the example of work and above all of joy, cheering everybody by his songs and his projects for the future. He spoke with such enthusiasm and con- tagious warmth of the transformation of his dear chap- el, of the grace which God would accord to those who should come there to pray, that later on it was believed that he had spoken of Clara and her holy maidens who were to retire to this place four years later.! This success soon inspired him with the idea of repair. ing the other sanctuaries in the suburbs of Assisi. Those which had struck him by their state of decay were St. Peter and Santa Maria, of the Portiuncula, called also Santa Maria degli Angeli. The former is not other- wise mentioned in his biographies. As to the sec- ond, it was to become the true cradle of the Franciscan movement. This chapel, still standing at the present day after escaping revolutions and earthquakes, is a true Bethel, one of those rare spots in the world on which rests the mystic ladder which joins heaven to earth ; there were dreamed some of the noblest dreams which have soothed the pains of humanity. It is not to Assisi in its marvel- lous basilica that one must go to divine and comprehend St. Francis; he must tum his steps to Santa Maria degli Angeli at the hours when the stated prayers cease, at the moment when the evening shadows lengthen, when all the fripperies of worship disappear in the obscurity, 13 Soc., 24; Testament de Claire, Wadding, ann. 1253 v. ? Cel., 21 ; Bon., 24. 68 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS when all the nation seems to collect itself to listen to the chime of the distant church bells. Doubtless it was Francis's plan to settle there as a hermit. He dreamed of passing his life there in meditation and silence, keep- ing up the little church and from time to time inviting a priest there to say mass. Nothing as yet suggested to him that he was in the end to become a religious founder. One of the most interesting aspects of his life is in fact the continual development revealing itself in him; he is of the small number to whom. to live is to be active, and to be active to make progress. There is hardly anyone, except St. Paul, in whom is found to the same degree the devouring need of being always something more, always something better, and it is so beautiful in both of them only because it is absolutely instinctive. When he began to restore the Portiuncula his projects hardly went beyond a very narrow horizon; he was pre- paring himself for a life of penitence rather than a life of activity. But these works once finished it was impos- sible that this somewhat selfish and passive manner of achieving his own salvation should satisfy him long. At the memory of the appearance of the Crucified One his heart would swell with overpowering emotions, and he would melt into tears without knowing whether they were of admiration, pity, or desire. When the repairs were finished meditation occupied the greater part of his days. A Benedictine of the Abbey of Mont Subasio ? came from time to time to say mass at Santa Maria; these were the bright hours of St. Francis's life. One can imagine with what pious care he prepared himself and with what faith he listened to the divine teachings. One day, it was probably February 24, 1209, the fes- 3 Soc., 14; 2 Cel., i., 6. ? Portiuncula was a dependence of this abbey. STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPH 69 tival of St. Matthias, mass was being celebrated at the Portiuncula. When the priest turned toward him to read the words of Jesus, Francis felt himself over- powered with a profound agitation. He no longer saw the priest; it was Jesus, the Crucified One of St. Damian, who was speaking : “Wherever ye go, preach, saying, “The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils. Freely ye have received, freely give. Provide neither silver nor gold nor brass in your purses, neither scrip nor two coats, nor shoes nor staff, for the laborer is worthy of his meat.' These words burst upon him like a revelation, like the answer of Heaven to his sighs and anxieties. “This is what I want,” he cried, “this is what I was seeking ; from this day forth I shall set myself with all my strength to put it in practice.” Immediately throw- ing aside his stick, his scrip, his purse, his shoes, he determined immediately to obey, observing to the letter the precepts of the apostolic life. It is quite possible that some allegorizing tendencies have had some influence upon this narrative. The long struggle through which Francis passed before becom- ing the apostle of the new times assuredly came to a crisis in the scene at Portiuncula ; but we have already seen how slow was the interior travail which prepared for it. The revelation of Francis was in his heart; the sacred fire which he was to communicate to the souls of others came from within his own, but the best causes need a 1 This is the date adopted by the Bollandists, because the ancient mis- sals mark the pericope, Matt. X., for the gospel of this day. This en- tails no difficulty and in any case it cannot be very far distant from the truth. A. SS., A. SS., p. 574. * See in particular Bon., 25 and 26. Cf. A. SS., p. 577d. 70 LIFE OF ST. FRANOIS standard. Before the shabby altar of the Portiuncula he had perceived the banner of poverty, sacrifice, and love, he would carry it to the assault of every fortress of sin; under its shadow, a true knight of Christ, he would marshal all the valiant warriors of a spiritual strife. CHAPTER V FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE Spring of 1209–Summer of 1210 THE very next morning Francis went up to Assisi and began to preach. His words were simple, but they came so straight from the heart that all who heard him were touched. It is not easy to hear and apply to one's self the ex- hortations of preachers who, aloft in the pulpit, seem to be carrying out a mere formality; it is just as difficult to escape from the appeals of a layman who walks at our side. The amazing multitude of Protestant sects is due in a great degree to this superiority of lay preaching over clerical. The most brilliant orators of the Christian pulpit are bad converters; their eloquent appeals may captivate the imagination and lead a few men of the world to the foot of the altar, but these results are not more brilliant than ephemeral. But let a peasant or a workingman speak to those whom he meets a few simple words going directly to the conscience, and the man is always impressed, often won. Thus the words of Francis seemed to his hearers like a flaming sword penetrating to the very depths of their conscience. His first attempts were the simplest possi- in general they were merely a few words addressed to men whom he knew well enough to recognize their weak points and strike at them with the holy boldness of love. ble; 12 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS His person, his example, were themselves a sermon, and he spoke only of that which he had himself experienced, proclaiming repentance, the shortness of life, a future retribution, the necessity of arriving at gospel perfec- tion. It is not easy to realize how many waiting souls there are in this world. The greater number of men pass through life with souls asleep. They are like vir- gins of the sanctuary who sometimes feel a vague agita- tion; their hearts throb with an infinitely sweet and sub- tile thrill, but their eyelids droop; again they feel the damp cold of the cloister creeping over them; the deli- cious but baneful dream vanishes, and this is all they ever know of that love which is stronger than death. It is thus with many men for all that belongs to the higher life. Sometimes, alone in the wide plain at the hour of twilight, they fix their eyes on the fading lights of the horizon, and on the evening breeze comes to them another breath, more distant, fainter, and almost heaven- ly, awaking in them a nostalgia for the world beyond and for holiness. But the darkness falls, they must go back to their homes; they shake off their reverie; and it often happens that to the very end of life this is their only glimpse of the Divine ; a few sighs, a few thrills, a few inarticulate murmurs—this sums up all our efforts to attain to the sovereign good. Yet the instinct for love and for the divine is only slumbering. At the sight of beauty love always awakes; at the appeal of holiness the divine witness within us at once responds; and so we see, streaming from all points of the horizon to gather around those who preach in the name of the inward voice, long processions of souls athirst for the ideal. The human heart so naturally yearns to offer itself up, that we have only to meet along 11 Cel., 23 ; 3 Soc., 25 and 26 ; Bon., 27. Cf. Auct. Vit. Sec. ap., A. SS., p. 579. FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE 73 our pathway some one who, doubting neither himself nor us, demands it without reserve, and we yield it to him at once. Reason may understand a partial gift, a transient devotion; the heart knows only the entire sac- rifice, and like the lover to his beloved, it says to its van- quisher, “Thine alone and forever.” That which has caused the miserable failure of all the efforts of natural religion is that its founders have not had the courage to lay hold upon the hearts of men, con- senting to no partition. They have not understood the imperious desire for immolation which lies in the depths of every soul, and souls have taken their revenge in not heeding these too lukewarm lovers. Francis had given himself up too completely not to claim from others an absolute self-renunciation. In the two years and more since he had quitted the world, the reality and depth of his conversion had shone out in the sight of all; to the scoffings of the early days had grad- ually succeeded in the minds of many a feeling closely akin to admiration. This feeling inevitably provokes imitation. A man of i Assisi, hardly mentioned by the biographers, had at- tached himself to Francis. He was one of those simple- hearted men who find life beautiful enough so long as they can be with him who has kindled the divine spark 1 11 Cel., 24. We must correct the Bollandist text: Inter quos quidam de Assisio puer ac simplicem animum gerens, by : quidam de Assisio pium ac simplicem, etc. The period at which we have arrived is very clear as a whole: the picture which the Three Companions give us is true with a truth which forces conviction at first sight; but neither they nor Celano are giving an official report. Later on men desired to know precisely in what order the early disciples came, and they tortured the texts to find an answer. The same course was followed with regard to the first missionary journeys. But on both sides they came up against impossibilities and contradictions. What does it matter whether there were two, three, or four missions before the papal approbation ? Of what consequence are the names of those early disciples who are 74 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS 1 in their hearts. His arrival at Portiuncula gave Francis a suggestion ; from that time he dreamed of the possibil- ity of bringing together a few companions with whom he could carry on his apostolic mission in the neigh- borhood. At Assisi he had often enjoyed the hospitality of a rich and prominent man named Bernardo di Quintavalle, who took him to sleep in his own chamber; it is easy to see how such an intimacy would favor confidential outpourings. When in the silence of the early night an ardent and enthusiastic soul pours out to you its disap- pointments, wounds, dreams, hopes, faith, it is difficult indeed not to be carried along, especially when the apos- tle has a secret ally in your soul, and unconsciously meets your most secret aspirations. One day Bernardo begged Francis to pass the following night with him, at the same time giving him to under- stand that he was about to make a grave resolution upon which he desired to consult him. The joy of Francis was great indeed as he divined his intentions. They passed the night without thinking of sleep; it was a long communion of souls. Bernardo had decided to distribute his goods to the poor and cast in his lot with Francis. The latter desired his friend to pass through a sort of initiation, pointing out to him that what he himself entirely secondary in the history of the Franciscan movement ? All these things took place with much more simplicity and spontaneity than is generally supposed. There is a wide difference between the -- plan of a house drawn up by an architect and a view of the same house painted by an artist. The second, though abounding in inexactitudes, gives a more just notion of the reality than the plan. The same is true of the Franciscan biographies. 11 Cel., 24. Bernard de Besse is the first to call him B. di Quinta- valle: De laudibus, fo. 95 h.; çf. ugon him Mark of Lisbon, t. i., second part, pp. 68-70 ; Conform., 47; Fior'., 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 28; 3 Soc., 27, 30, 39 ; 2 Cel., 1, 10 ; 2, 19; Bon., 28; 1 Cel., 30; Salimbeni, ann. 1829, and Tribul. Arch., ii., p. 278, etc. FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE 175 practised, what he preached, was not his own invention, but that Jesus himself had expressly ordained it in his word. At early dawn they bent their steps to the St. Nicho- las Church, accompanied by another neophyte named Pietro, and there, after praying and hearing mass, Francis opened the Gospels that lay on the altar and read to his companions the portion which had decided his own voca- tion: the words of Jesus sending forth his disciples on their mission. Brethren," he added, "this is our life and our Rule, and that of all who may join us. Go then and do as you have heard.” 1 The persistence with which the Three Companions relate that Francis consulted the book three times in honor of the Trinity, and that it opened of its own accord at the verses describing the apostolic life, leads to the belief that these passages became the Rule of the new association, if not that very day at least very soon afterward. If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come and follow me. Jesus having called to him the Twelve, gave them power and author- ity over all devils and to cure diseases. And he sent them to preach the kingdom of God and to heal the sick. And he said unto them, Take nothing for your journey, neither staves, nor scrip, neither bread, neither money; neither have two coats apiece. And whatsoever house ye enter into, there abide, and thence depart. And whosoever will not receive you, when ye go out of that city shake off the very dust from your feet for a testimony against them. And they departed and went through the towns, preaching the gospel and healing everywhere. 11 Cel., 24; 3 Soc., 27, 28, 29 ; 2 Cel., 1, 10; 3, 52 ; Bon., 28; A. SS., p. 580. It is evident that the tradition has been worked over here : it soon came to be desired to find a miracle in the manner in which Francis found the passage for reading. The St. Nicholas Church is no longer in existence; it stood upon the piece of ground now occu- pied by the barracks of the gendarmerie (carabinieri reali). 76 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Then said Jesus unto his disciples, If any man will come after me let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me. For who soever will save his life shall lose it, and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it. For what is a man profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own soul ? 1 At first these verses were hardly more than the official Rule of the Order; the true Rule was Francis himself; but they had the great merit of being short, absolute, of promising perfection, and of being taken from the Gospel. Bernardo immediately set to work to distribute his fortune among the poor. Full of joy, his friend was looking on at this act, which had drawn together a crowd, when a priest named Sylvester, who had formerly sold him some stones for the repairs of St. Damian, seeing so much money given away to everyone who applied for it, drew near and said : Brother, you did not pay me very well for the stones which you bought of me.” Francis had too thoroughly killed every germ of av- arice in himself not to be moved to indignation by hear- ing a priest speak thus. “Here,” he said, holding out to him a double handful of coins which he took from Bernardo's robe, “here; are you sufficiently paid now ? ” Quite so," replied Sylvester, somewhat abashed by the murmurs of the bystanders.? This picture, in which the characters stand out so strongly, must have taken strong hold upon the memory of the bystanders : the Italians only thoroughly under- stand things which they make a picture of. It taught 1 Matt., xix., 21 ; Luke, ix., 1-6 ; Matt., xvi., 24-26. The agreement of tradition upon these passages is complete. 3 Soc., 29 ; 2 Cel., 1, 10; Bon., 28; Spec., 5b.; Conform., 37b 2, 47a, 2; Fior., 2 ; Glassberger and the Chronicle of the xxiv. generals reversing the order (Analecta, fr., t. ii., p. 5) as well as the Conformities in another place, 87b, 2. 2 3 Soc., 30. Cf. Anon. Pro'18., A. SS., p. 581a. This scene is re ported neither by Celano nor by St. Bonaventura. FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE 77 them, better than all Francis's preachings, what manner of men these new friars would be. The distribution finished, they went at once to Portiun- cula, where Bernardo and Pietro built for themselves cabins of boughs, and made themselves tunics like that of Francis. They did not differ much from the garment worn by the peasants, and were of that brown, with its infinite variety of shades, which the Italians call beast color. One finds similar garments to-day among the shepherds of the most remote parts of the Apennines. A week later, Thursday, April 23, 1209,' a new dis- ciple of the name of Egidio presented himself before Francis. Of a gentle and submissive nature, he was of those who need to lean on someone, but who, the needed support having been found and tested, lift themselves sometimes even above it. The pure soul of brother Egidio, supported by that of Francis, came to enjoy the intoxicating delights of contemplation with an unheard-of ardor. Here we must be on our guard against forcing the authorities, and asking of them more than they can give. Later, when the Order was definitely constituted and its convents organized, men fancied that the past had been like the present, and this error still weighs upon the picture of the origins of the Franciscan movement. The first brothers lived as did the poor people among whom they so willingly moved ; Portiuncula was their favorite church, but it would be a mistake to suppose that they sojourned there for any long periods. It was their 2 This date is given in the life of Brother Egidio : A. SS., Oct., t. ii., p. 572; Aprilis, t. iii., p. 220. It fits well with the accounts. Through it we obtain the approximate date of the definitive conversion of Francis two full years earlier. 2 1 Cel., 25; 3 Soc., 23 ; Bon. 29. Cf. Anon. Perus., A. SS., p. 582. and A. SS., Aprilis, t. iii., p. 220 ff. 78 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS place of meeting, nothing more. When they set forth they simply knew that they should meet again in the neighborhood of the modest chapel. Their life was that of the Umbrian beggars of the present day, going here and there as fancy dictated, sleeping in hay-lofts, in leper hospitals, or under the porch of some church. So little had they any fixed domicile that Egidio, having de- cided to join them, was at considerable trouble to learn where to find Francis, and accidentally meeting him in the neighborhood of Rivo-Torto ? he saw in the fact a prov- idential leading They went up and down the country, joyfully sowing their seed. It was the beginning of summer, the time when everybody in Umbria is out of doors mowing or turning the grass. The customs of the country have changed but little. Walking in the end of May in the fields about Florence, Perugia, or Rieti, one still sees, at nightfall, the bagpipers entering the fields as the mow- ers seat themselves upon the hay-cocks for their evening meal; they play a few pieces, and when the train of hay- makers returns to the village, followed by the harvest- laden carts, it is they who lead the procession, rending the air with their sharpest strains. The joyous Penitents who loved to call themselves Joculatores Domini, God's jongleurs, no doubt often did 1 Spec., 25a: Qualiter dixit fratri Egidio priusquam esset receptus ut daret mantellum ciudam pauperi. In primordio religionis cum maneret apud Regum Tortum cum duobus fratribus quos tunc tantum habehat. If we compare this passage with 3 Soc., 44, we shall doubtless arrive at the conclusion that the account in the Speculum is more satisfactory. It is in fact very easy to understand the optical illusion by which later on the Portiuncula was made the scene of the greater number of the events of St. Francis's life, while it would be difficult to see why there should have been any attempt to surround Rivo-Torto with an aureola. The Fioretti say: Ando inverso lo spedale dei lebbrosi, which confirms the indication of Rivo-Torto. Vita d'Egidio, & 1. FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE 79 the same. They did even better, for not willing to be a charge to anyone, they passed a part of the day in aiding the peasants in their field work. The inhabitants of these districts are for the most part kindly and se- date; the friars soon gained their confidence by relating to them first their history and then their hopes. They worked and ate together; field-hands and friars often slept in the same barn, and when with the morrow's dawn the friars went on their way, the hearts of those they left be- hind had been touched. They were not yet converted, but they knew that not far away, over toward Assisi, were living men who had renounced all worldly goods, and who, consumed with zeal, were going up and down preaching penitence and peace. . Their reception was very different in the cities. If the peasant of Central Italy is mild and kindly the townsfol.2 are on a first acquaintance scoffing and ill disposed. We shall shortly see the friars who went to Florence the butt of all sorts of persecutions. Only a few weeks had passed since Francis began to preach, and already his words and acts were sounding an irresistible appeal in the depths of many a heart. We have arrived at the most unique and interesting period in the history of the Franciscans. These first months are for their institution what the first days of spring are for nature, days when the almond-tree blossoms, bearing witness to the mysterious labor going on in the womb of the earth, and heralding the flowers that will suddenly enamel the fields. At the sight of these men bare footed, scantily clothed, without money, and yet so hap- py--men's minds were much divided. Some held them to be mad, others admired them, finding them widely i An. Perus, A. SS., p. 582. Cf. Fior., Vita di Egidio, 1; Spec., 124. 136 ; 2 Cel., 3, 68; h. SS., Aprilis, t. iii., p. 227. 2 Spec., 34a ; Conform., 219b, 1; Ant. fr., p. 96. 80 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS different from the vagrant monks, that plague of Chris- tendom. Sometimes, however, the friars found success not re- sponding to their efforts, the conversion of souls not tak- ing form with enough rapidity and vigor. To encourage them, Francis would then confide to them his visions and nis hopes. "I saw a multitude of men coming toward us, asking that they might receive the habit of our holy religion, and lo, the sound of their footsteps still echoes in my ears. I saw them coming from every direction, filling all the roads." Whatever the biographies may say, Francis was far from foreseeing the sorrows that were to follow this rapid increase of his Order. The maiden leaning with trem- bling rapture on her lover's arm no more dreams of the pangs of motherhood than he thought of the dregs he must drain after quaffing joyfully the generous wine of the chalice.? Every prosperous movement provokes opposition by the very fact of its prosperity. The herbs of the field have iheir own language for cursing the longer-lived plants that smother them out; one can hardly live without arousing jealousy; in vain the new fraternity showed itself humble, it could not escape this law. When the brethren went up to Assisi to beg from door to door, many refused to give to them, reproaching them with desiring to live on the goods of others after having squandered their own. Many a time they had barely enough not to starve to death. It would even seem that the clergy were not entirely without part in this opposi- tion. The Bishop of Assisi said to Francis one day: “Your way of living without owning anything seems to me very harsh and difficult.” “My lord,” replied he, “if 1 The Gyrovagi. Tr. 3 Soc.. 32-34; 1 Cel., 27 and 28 ; Bon., 31. 2 FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE 81 "1 we possessed property we should have need of arms for its defence, for it is the source of quarrels and lawsuits, and the love of God and of one's neighbor usually finds many obstacles therein; this is why we do not desire temporal goods. The argument was unanswerable, but Guido began to rue the encouragement which he had formerly offered the son of Bernardone. He was very nearly in the situ- ation and consequently in the state of mind of the Angli- can bishops when they saw the organizing of the Sal- vation Army. It was not exactly hostility, but a distrust which was all the deeper for hardly daring to show itself. The only counsel which the bishop could give Francis was to come into the ranks of the clergy, or, if asceticism attracted him, to join some already existing monastic order." 13 Soc., 35. Cf. Anon. Perus. ; A. SS., p. 584. 2 Later on, naturally, it was desired that Francis should have had no better supporter than Guido; some have even made him out to be his spiritual director (St. François, Plon, p. 24)! We have an in- direct but unexceptionable proof of the reserve with which these pious traditions must be accepted; Francis did not even tell his bishop (pater et dominus animarum, 3 Soc., 29) of his design of having his Rule approved by the pope. This is the more striking because the bishop would have been his natural advocate at the court of Rome, and be- cause in the absence of any other reason the most elementary politeness required that he should have been informed. Add to this that bishops in Italy are not, as elsewhere, functionaries approached with difficulty by the common run of mortals. Almost every village in Umbria has it bishop, so that their importance is hardly greater than that of the curé of a French canton. Furthermore, several pontifical documents throw a sombre light on Guido's character. In a chapter of the decretals of Honorius IIJ. (Quinta compil., lib. ii., tit. iii., cap. i.) is given a complaint against this bishop, brought before the curia by the Crucigeri of the hos. pital San Salvatore delle pareti (suburbs of Assisi), of having maltreated two of their number, and having stolen a part of the wine belonging to the convent: pro eo quod Aegidium presbyterum, et fratrem eorem con- versum violentas manus injecerat adjiciens quod idem hospitale 6 82 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS If the bishop's perplexities were great, those of Fran. cis were hardly less so. He was too acute not to foresee the conflict that threatened to break out between the friars and the clergy. He saw that the enemies of the priests praised him and his companions beyond measure simply to set off their poverty against the avarice and wealth of the ecclesiastics, yet he felt himself urged on from within to continue his work, and could well have exclaimed with the apostle, “Woe is me if I preach not the gospel !” On the other hand, the families of the Peni- tents could not forgive them for having distributed their goods among the poor, and attacks came from this direc- tion with all the bitter language and the deep hatred natural to disappointed heirs. From this point of view the brotherhood appeared as a menace to families, and many parents trembled lest their sons should join it. Whether the friars would or no, they were an unending subject of interest to the whole city. Evil rumors, plenti- fully spread abroad against them, simply defeated them- selves; flying from mouth to mouth they speedily found contradictors who had no difficulty in showing their absurdity. All this indirectly served their cause and gained to their side those hearts, more numerous than is generally believed, who find the defence of the perse- cuted a necessity. As to the clergy, they could not but feel a profound dis- 1 quadam vini quantitate fuerat per eumdem episcopum spoliatum. Honorii opera, Horoy's edition, t. i., col. 200 ff. Cf. Potthast, 7746. The men- tion of the hospital de Pariete proves beyond question that the Bishop of Assisi is here concerned and not the Bishop of Osimo, as some critics have suggested. Another document shows him at strife with the Benedictines of Mount Subasio (the very ones who afterward gave Portiuncula to Francis), and Honorius III. found the bishop in the wrong: Bull Conquerente cco- nomo monasterii ap. Richter, Corpus juris canonici. Leipzig, 1839, 4to, Horoy, loc. cit., t. i., col. 163; Potthast, 7728. FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE 83 trust of these lay converters, who, though they aroused the hatred of some interested persons, awakened in more pious souls first astonishment and then admiration. Suddenly to see men without title or diploma succeed brilliantly in the mission which has been officially confided to our- selves, and in which we have made pitiful shipwreck, is cruel torture. Have we not seen generals who preferred to lose a battle rather than gain it with the aid of guer- rillas ? This covert opposition has left no characteristic traces in the biographies of St. Francis. It is not to be won- dered at; Thomas of Celano, even if he had had infor- mation of this matter, would have been wanting in tact to make use of it. The clergy, for that matter, possess a thousand means of working upon public opinion without ceasing to show a religious interest in those whom they detest. But the more St. Francis shall find himself in contra, diction with the clergy of his time, the more he will be, lieve himself the obedient son of the Church. Confound- ing the gospel with the teaching of the Church, he will for a good while border upon heresy, but without ever falling into it. Happy simplicity, thanks to which he had never to take the attitude of revolt! It was five years since, a convalescent leaning upon his staff, he had felt himself taken possession of by a loathing of material pleasures. From that time every one of his days had been marked by a step in ad- vance. It was again the spring-time. Perfectly happy, he felt himself more and more impelled to bring others to share his happiness and to proclaim in the four corners of the world how he had attained it. He resolved, therefore, to undertake a new mission. A few days were spent in preparing for it. The Three Companions have 84 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS preserved for us the directions which he gave to his dis- ciples: “Let us consider that God in his goodness has not called us merely for our own salvation, but also for that of many men, that we may go through all the world exhorting men, more by our example than by our words, to repent of their sins and bear the commandments in mind. Be not fearful on the ground that we appear little and ignorant, but simply and without disquietude preach repentance. Have faith in God, who has overcome the world, that his Spirit will speak in you and by you, exhorting men to be converted and keep his commandments. You will find men full of faith, gentleness, and goodness, who will receive you and your words with joy ; but you will find others, and in greater numbers, faithless, proud, blasphemers, who will speak evil of you, resisting you and your words. Be resolute, then, to endure every. thing with patience and humility." Hearing this, the brethren began to be agitated. St. Francis said to them: “Have no fear, for very soon many nobles and learned men will come to you ; they will be with you preaching to kings and princes and to a multitude of peoples. Many will be converted to the Lord, all over the world, who will multiply and increase his family.” After he had thus spoken he blessed them, saying to each one the word which was in the future to be his su- preme consolation : ' My brother, commit yourself to God with all your cares, and he will care for you." Then the men of God departed, faithfully observing his instructions, and when they found a church or a cross they 'oowed in adoration, say- ing with devotion, “We adore thee, O Christ, and we bless thee here and in all churches in the whole world, for by thy holy cross thou hast ransomed the world." In fact they believed that they had found a holy place wherever they found a church or a cross. Some listened willingly, others scoffed, the greater number over- whelmed them with questions. “Whence come you?" "Of what order are you?” And they, though sometimes it was wearisome to answer, said simply, “We are penitents, natives of the city of Assisi.” 1 This freshness and poetry will not be found in the later missions. Here the river is still itself, and if it 13 Soc., 36 and 37. Cf. Anon. Perus, ap., A. SS., p. 585 ; Test. B. Francisci. FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE 85 knows toward what sea it is hastening, it knows nothing of the streams, more or less turbid, which shall disturb its limpidity, nor the dykes and the straightenings to which it will have to submit. A long account by the Three Companions gives us a picture from life of these first essays at preaching: Many men took the friars for knaves or madmen and refused to receive them into their houses for fear of being robbed. So in many places, after having undergone all sorts of bad usage, they could find no other refuge for the night than the porticos of churches or houses. There were at that time two brethren who went to Florence. They begged all through the city but could find no shelter. Coming to a house which had a portico and under the portico a bench, they said to one another, "We shall be very comfortable here for the night.” As the mistress of the house refused to let them enter, thev humbly asked her per- mission to sleep upon the bench. She was about to grant them permission when her husband appeared. Why have you permitted these lewd fellows to stay under our por- tico ?” he asked. The woman replied that she had refused to receive them into the house, but had given them permission to sleep under the portico where there was nothing for them to steal but the bench. The cold was very sharp; but taking them for thieves no one gave them any covering. As for them, after having enjoyed on their bench no more sleep than was necessary, warmed only by divine warmth, and having for covering only their Lady Poverty, in the early dawn they went to the church to hear mass. The lady went also on her part, and seeing the friars devoutly pray- ing she said to herself: “If these men were rascals and thieves as my husband said, they would not remain thus in prayer." And while she was making these reflections behold a man of the name of Guido was giving alms to the poor in the church. Coming to the friars he would have given a piece of money to them as to the others, but they refused his money and would not receive it. Why," he asked, “since you are poor, will you not accept like the others ?” “It is true that we are poor," replied Brother Bernardo, but poverty does not weigh upon us as upon other poor people ; for by the grace of God, whose will we are accom- plishing, we have voluntarily become poor." Much amazed, he asked them if they had ever had anything, aná learned that they had possessed much, but that for the love of God they had given everything away. The lady, seeing that the friars 86 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS had refused the alms, drew near to them and said that she would gladly receive them into her house if they would be pleased to lodge there. “May the Lord recompense to you your good will," replied the friars, humbly. But Guido, learning that they had not been able to find a shelter, took them to his own house, saying, “Here is a refuge prepared for you by the Lord ; remain in it as long as you desire." As for them, they gave thanks to God and spent several days with him, preaching the fear of the Lord by word and example, so that in the end he made large distributions to the poor. . Well treated by him, they were despised by others. Many men, great and small, attacked and insulted them, sometimes going so far as to tear off their clothing ; but though despoiled of their only tunic, they would not ask for its restitution. If, moved to pity, men gave back to them what they had taken away, they accepted it cheerfully. There were those who threw mud upon them, others who put dice into their hands and invited them to play, and others clutching them by the cowl made them drag them along thus. But seeing that the friars were always full of joy in the midst of their tribulations, that they neither received nor carried money, and that by their love for one an- other they made themselves known as true disciples of the Lord, many of them felt themselves reproved in their hearts and came asking par- don for the offences which they had committed. They, pardoning them with all their heart, said, “The Lord forgive you,” and gave them pious counsels for the salvation of their souls. A translation can but imperfectly give all the repressed emotion, the candid simplicity, the modest joy, the fer- vent love which breathe in the faulty Latin of the Three Companions. Yet these scattered friars sighed after the home-coming and the long conversations with their spir- itual father in the tranquil forests of the suburbs of Assisi. Friendship among men, when it overpasses a certain limit, has something deep, high, ideal, infinitely sweet, to which no other friendship attains. There was no woman in the Upper Chamber when, on the last evening of his life, Jesus communed with his disci- ples and invited the world to the eternal marriage supper. Francis, above all, was impatient to see his young FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE 87 family once more. They all arrived at Portiuncula al- most at the same time, having already, before reaching it, forgotten the torments they had endured, thinking only of the joy of the meeting. 1 3 Soc., 38-41. CHAPTER VI ST. FRANCIS AND INNOCENT IN Summer 1210 1 SEEING the number of his friars daily increasing, Fran- cis decided to write the Rule of the Order and go to Rome to procure its approval by the Pope. This resolution was not lightly taken. It would be a mistake in fact to take Francis for one of those in- spired ones who rush into action upon the strength of unexpected revelations, and, thanks to their faith 1 The date usually fixed for the approval of the Rule by Innocent III. is the month of August, 1209. The Bollandists had thought themselves able to infer it from the account where Thomas of Celano (1 Cel., 43) refers to the passage through Umbria of the Emperor Otho IV., on his way to be crowned at Rome (October 4, 1209). Upon this journey see Böhmer-Ficker, Regesta Imperii. Dei Regesten des Kaiserreichs unter Phi- lipp, Otto IV., etc., Insbruck, 1879, 4to, pp. 96 and 97. As this account follows that of the approval, they conclude that the latter was earlier. But Thomas of Celano puts this account there because the context led up to it, and not in order to fix its date. Everything leads to the belief that the Brothers retired (recolligebat, 1 Cel., 42) to Rivo-Torto before and after their journey to Rome. Besides, the time between April 23d and the middle of August, 1209, is much too short for all that the biographers tell us about the life of the Brothers before their visit to Innocent III. The mission to Florence took place in winter, or at least in a very cold month. But the decisive argument is that Innocent III. quitted Rome toward the end of May, 1209, and went to Viterbo, returning only to crown Otho, October 4th (Potthast, 3727–3803). It is therefore absolute. iy necessary to postpone to the summer of 1210 the visit of the Penitents to the pope. This is also the date which Wadding arrives at. ST. FRANCIS AND INNOCENT III 89 in their own infallibility, overawe the multitude. On the contrary, he was filled with a real humility, and if he believed that God reveals himself in prayer, he never for that absolved himself from the duty of reflection nor even from reconsidering his decisions. St. Bonaventura does him great wrong in picturing the greater number of his important resolutions as taken in consequence of dreams; this is to rob his life of its profound originality, his sanctity of its choicest blossom. He was of those who struggle, and, to use one of the noblest expressions of the Bible, of those who by their perseverance conquer their souls. Thus we shall see him continually retouch- ing the Rule of his institute, unceasingly revising it down to the last moment, according as the grow uit of the Order and experience of the human heart suggested to him modifications of it. The first Rule which he submitted to Rome has not come down to us; we only know that it was extremely simple, and composed especially of passages from the Gospels. It was doubtless only the repetition of those verses which Francis had read to his first companions, with a few precepts about manual labor and the occupa- tions of the new brethren.? 1 13 Soc., 35. 2 1 Cel., 32 ; 3 Soc., 51 ; Bon., 34. Cf. Test. B. Fr. M. K. Müller of Halle, in his Anfänge, has made a very remarkable study of the Rule of 1221, whence he deduces an earlier Rule, which he believes to be that of 1209 (1210). For once I find myself entirely in accord with him, except that the Rule thus reconstructed (Vide Anfänge, pp. 14-25, 184–188) appears to me to be not that of 1210, which was very short, but another, drawn up between 1210 and 1221. The plures regulas fecit of the 3 Soc., 35, authorizes us to believe that he made perhaps as many as four-1st, 1210, very short, containing little more than the three passages of the vocation ; 2d, 1217 (?), substantially that proposed by M. Mül. ler ; 3d, 1221, that of which we shall speak at length farther on ; 4th, 1226, the Will, which if not a Rule is at least an appendix to tbe Rule. If from 1221-1226 he had time to make two Rules and the Will, as is 90 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS It will be well to pause here and consider the brethren who are about to set out for Rome. The biographies are in agreement as to their number; they were twelve, in- cluding Francis; but the moment they undertake to give a name to each one of them difficulties begin to arise, and it is only by some exegetical sleight of hand that they can claim to have reconciled the various documents. The table given below 1 briely shows these difficulties. The question took on some importance when in the four- teenth century men undertook to show an exact conform- ity between the life of St. Francis and that of Jesus. It is without interest to us. The profiles of two or three of these brethren stand out very clearly in the picture of the origins of the Order; others remind one of the pict- universally admitted, there is nothing surprising in his having made two from 1210–1221. Perhaps we have a fragment of that of 1217 in the regulation of hermitages. Vide below, p. 109. 1 Thomas of Celano's list. 1, Quidam pium gerens animum ; 2, Ber- nardus; 3, Vir alter; 4, Ægidius ; 5, Unus alius appositus ; 6, Philippus ; 7, Alius bonus vir; 8, 9, 10, 11, Quatuor boni et idonei vir. 1 Cel., 24, 25, 29, 31. The Rinaldi-Amoni text says nothing of the last four. Three Companions : 1, Bernardus ; 2, Petrus ; 3, Ægidius ; 4, Sabbatinus; 5, Moritus ; Johannes Capella ; 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, Disciples re- ceived by the brethren in their missions. 3 Soc., 33, 35, 41, 46, 52. Bon- aventura : 1, Bernardus ; 2, ... 3, Ægidius ; 4, 5, . 6, Silvestro; 17, Alius bonus viri ; 8, 9, 10, 11, Quatuor viri honesti. Bon., 28, 29, 30, 31, 33. The Fioretti, while insisting on the importance of the twelve Franciscan apostles, cite only six in their list: Giovanni di Capella, Egidio, Philip, Silvestro, Bernardo, and Rufino. Fior., 1. We must go to the Conformities to find the traditional list, fº 46b 1 : 1, Bernardus de Quin- tavalle ; 2, Petrus Chatanii ; 3, Egidius ; 4, Sabatinus ; 5, Moricus; 6, Johannes de Capella ; 7, Philippus Longus ; 8, Johannes de Sancto Con- stantio ; 9, Barbarus ; 10, Bernardus de Cleviridante (sic); 11, Angelus Tancredi ; 12, Sylvester. As will be seen, in the last two documents twelve disciples are in question, while in the preceding ones there are only eleven. This is enough to show a dogmatic purpose. This list reappears exactly in the Speculum, with the sole difference that Fran- cis being there included Angelo di Tancrede is the twelfth brother and Silvestro disappears. Spec., 87a. ST. FRANCIS AND INNOCENT III 91 ures of primitive Umbrian masters, where the figures of the background have a modest and tender grace, but no shadow of personality. The first Franciscans had all the virtues, including the one which is nearly always wanting, willingness to remain unknown. In the Lower Church of Assisi there is an ancient fres- co representing five of the companions of St. Francis. Above them is a Madonna by Cimabue, upon which they are gazing with all their soul. It would be more true if St. Francis were there in the place of the Madonna; one is always changed into the image of what one admires, and they resemble their master and one another. To attempt to give them a name is to make a sort of psycho- logical error and become guilty of infidelity to their memory; the only name they would have desired is that of their father. His love changed their hearts and shed over their whole persons a radiance of light and joy. These are the true personages of the Fioretti, the men who brought peace to cities, awakened consciences, changed hearts, conversed with birds, tamed wolves. Of them one may truly say: "Having nothing, yet possessing all things ” (Nihil habentes, omnia possidentes). They quitted Portiuncula full of joy and confidence. Francis was too much absorbed in thought not to desire to place in other hands the direction of the little com- pany. Let us choose," he said, "one from among ourselves to guide us, and let him be to us as the vicar of Jesus Christ. Wherever it may please him to go we will go, and when he may wish to stop anywhere to sleep there we will stop.” They chose Brother Bernardo and did as Francis had said. They went on full of joy, and all their conversations had for their object only the glory of God and the salvation of their souls. 1 According to tradition, the five compagni del Santo buried there be. side their master are Bernardo, Silvestro, William (an Englishman), Eletto, and Valentino (?) 92 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Their journey was happily accomplished. Everywhere they found kindly souls who sheltered them, and they felt beyond a doubt that God was taking care of them. 1 Francis's thoughts were all fixed upon the purpose of their journey; he thought of it day and night, and natu- rally interpreted his dreams with reference to it. One time, in his dream, he saw himself walking along a road beside which was a gigantic and wonderfully beautiful tree. And, behold, while he looked upon it, filled with wonder, he felt himself become so tall that he could touch the boughs, and at the same time the tree bent down its branches to him. He awoke full of joy, sure of a gracious reception by the sovereign pontiff. His hopes were to be somewhat blighted. Innocent III. had now for twelve years occupied the throne of St. Peter. Still young, energetic, resolute, he enjoyed that superfluity of authority given by success. Coming after the feeble Celestine III., he had been able in a few years to reconquer the temporal domain of the Church, and so to improve the papal influence as almost to realize the theo- cratic dreams of Gregory VII. He had seen King Pedro of Aragon declaring himself his vassal and laying his crown upon the tomb of the apostles, that he might take it back at his hands. At the other end of Europe, John Lackland had been obliged to receive his crown from a legate after having sworn homage, fealty, and an annual tribute to the Holy See. Preaching union to the cities and republics of Italy, causing the cry ITALIA ! ITALIA ! to resound like the shout of a trumpet, he was the natural representative of the national awakening, and appeared to be in some sort the suzerain of the emperor, as he was already that of other kings. Finally, by his efforts to purify the Church, by his indomitable firmness in defend. 1 3 Soc., 46 ; 1 Cel., 32 ; Bon., 34. ? 1 Cel., 33; 3 Soc., 53 ; Bon., 35. ST. FRANCIS AND INNOCENT III 93 ing morality and law in the affair of Ingelburge and in many others, he was gaining a moral strength which in times so disquieted was all the more powerful for being so rare. But this incomparable power had its hidden dangers. Occupied with defending the prerogatives of the Holy See, Innocent came to forget that the Church does not exist for herself, that her supremacy is only a transitory means; and one part of his pontificate may be likened co wars, legitimate in the beginning, in which the conque- ror keeps on with depredations and massacres for no reason, except that he is intoxicated with blood and suc- cess. ! And so Rome, which canonized the petty Celestine V., refused this supreme consecration to the glorious Inno- cent III. With exquisite tact she perceived that he was rather king than priest, rather pope than saint. When he suppressed ecclesiastical disorders it was less for love of good than for hatred of evil; it was the judge who condemns or threatens, himself always supported by the law, not the father who weeps his son's offence. This priest did not comprehend the great movement of his age—the awakening of love, of poetry, of liberty. I have already said that at the opening of the thirteenth century the Middle Age was twenty years old. Innocent III. undertook to treat it as if it were only fifteen. Pos- sessed by his civil and religious dogmas as others are by their educational doctrines, he never suspected the un- satisfied longings, the dreams, unreasoning perhaps, but beneficent and divine, that were dumbly stirring in the depths of men's hearts. He was a believer, although certain sayings of the historians 1 open the door to some St. Ludgarde (1182-1246) sees him condemned to Purgatory till the Last Judgment. Life of this saint by Thomas of Catimpré in Surius : Vitos SS. (1618), vi., 215-226. 94 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS doubts on this point, but he drew his religion rather from the Old Testament than from the New, and if he often thought of Moses, the leader of his people, nothing re- minded him of Jesus, the shepherd of souls. One cannot be everything; a choice intelligence, an iron will? are a sufficient portion even for a priest-god; he lacked love. The death of this pontiff, great among the great ones, · was destined to be saluted with songs of joy.? His reception of Francis furnished to Giotto, the friend of Dante, one of his most striking frescos; the pope, seated on his throne, turns abruptly toward Francis. He frowns, for he does not understand, and yet he feels a strange power in this mean and despised man, vilis et despectus ; he makes a real but futile effort to compre- hend, and now I see in this pope, who lived upon lemons, something that recalls another choice mind, theocratic like his own, sacrificed like him to his work: Calvin. One might think that the painter had touched his lips to the Calabrian Seer's cup, and that in the attitude of these two men he sought to symbolize a meeting of represent- atives of the two ages of humanity, that of Law and that of Love. A surprise awaited the pilgrims on their arrival in 3 1 Vir clari ingenii, magno probitatis et sapientice, cui nullus secundus tempore suo : Rigordus, de gestis Philippi Augusti in Duchesne. His- toriæ Francorum scriptores coætanei, t. V., p. 60.-Nec similem sui scientia, facundia, decretorum et legum perititia, strenuitate, judiciorum nec adhuc visus est habere sequentem. Cf. Mencken, Script. rer. Sax., Leipzig, 1728, t. iii., p. 252. Innocentius, qui vere stupor mundi erat et immutator sæculi. Cotton, Hist. Anglicana, Luard, 1859, p. 107. Cujus finis lætitiem potius quam tristitiam generavit subjectis. Al- beric delle Tre Fontane. Leibnitz, Accessiones historicæ, t. ii., p. 492. 3 Decidit in acutam (febrem) quam cum multis diebus fovisset nec a citris quibus in magna quantitatæ et ex consuetudine vescebatur minime abstineret ad ultimum in lethargia prolapsus vitam finivit. Alberic delle Tre Fontane, loc. cit. * Fresco in the great nave of the Upper Church of Assisi. ST. FRANCIS AND INNOCENT III 95 Rome : they met the Bishop of Assisi, quite as much to his astonishment as to their own. This detail is precious because it proves that Francis had not confided his plans to Guido. Notwithstanding this the bishop, it is said, offered to make interest for them with the princes of the Church. We may suspect that his commendations were not very warm. At all events they did not avail to save Francis and his company either from a searching inquiry or from the extended fatherly counsels of Cardinal Gio- vanni di San Paolo? upon the difficulties of the Rule, counsels which strongly resemble those of Guido himself.3 What Francis asked for was simple enough; he claimed no privilege of any sort, but only that the pope would approve of his undertaking to lead a life of absolute con- formity to the precepts of the gospel. There is a deli- cate point here which it is quite worth while to see clearly. The pope was not called upon to approve the Rule, since that came from Jesus himself; at the very worst all that he could do would be to lay an ecclesiasti- p. 177. 11 Cel., 32 ; 3 Soc., 47. ? Of the Colonna family; he died in 1216. Cf. 3 Soc., 61. Vide Cardella, Memorie storiche de Cardinali, 9 vols., 8vo, Rome, 1792 ff., t. i., He was at Rome in the summer of 1210, for on the 11th of August he countersigned the bull Religiosem vitam. Potthast, 4061. Angelo Clareno relates the approbation with more precision in certain respects : Cum vero Summo Pontifici ea quæ postulabut [Franciscus) ardua valde et quasi impossibilia viderentur infirmitate hominum sui temporis, exhortabatur eum, quod aliquem ordinem vel regulam de approbatis assumeret, at ipse se a Christo missum ad talem vitam et non aliam postulandam constanter affirmans, ficus in sua petitione permansit. Tunc dominus Johannes de sancto Paulo episcopus Sabinensis et dominus Hugo episcopus Hostiensis Dei spiritu moti assisterunt Sancto Francisco et pro his quc petebat coram summo Pontifice et Cardinalibus plura proposuerunt rationabilia et effica- cia valde. Tribul. Laurentinian MS., f 6a. This intervention of Ugolini is mentioned in no other document. It is, however, by no means impossible. He also was in Rome in the summer of 1210. (Vide Potthast, p. 462.) 3 1 Cel., 32 and 33; 3 Soc., 47 and 48. Cf. An. Per., A. SS., p. 590. 96 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS cal censure upon Francis and his companions for having acted without authority, and to enjoin them to leave to the secular and regular clergy the task of reforming the Church. Cardinal Giovanni di San Paolo, to whom the Bishop of Assisi presented them, had informed himself of the whole history of the Penitents. He lavished upon them the most affectionate tokens of interest, even going so far as to beg for a mention in their prayers. But such as- surances, which appear to have been always the small change of the court of Rome, did not prevent his examin- ing them for several successive days,' and putting to them an infinite number of questions, of which the conclusion was always the advice to enter some Order already exist- ing. To this the unlucky Francis would reply as best he could, often not without embarrassment, for he had no wish to appear to think lightly of the cardinal's counsels, and yet he felt in his heart the imperious desire to obey his vocation. The prelate would then return to the charge, insinuating that they would find it very hard to persevere, that the enthusiasm of the early days would pass away, and again pointing out a more easy course. He was obliged in the end to own himself vanquished. The persistence of Francis, who had never weakened for an instant nor doubted his mission, begat in him a sort of awe, while the perfect humility of the Penitents and their simple and striking fidelity to the Roman Church reassured him in the matter of heresy. He announced to them, therefore, that he would speak of them to the pope, and would act as their advocate with him. According to the Three Companions he said to the pope: “I have found a man of the highest perfection, who desires to live in conformity with the Holy Gospel 11 Cel., 33. ST. FRANCIS AND INNOCENT III 97 1 and observe evangelical perfection in all things. I be- lieve that by him the Lord intends to reform the faith of the Holy Church throughout the whole world.” 1 On the morrow he presented Francis and his compan- ions to Innocent III. Naturally, the pope was not spar- ing of expressions of sympathy, but he also repeated to them the remarks and counsels which they had already heard so often. “My dear children,” he said, "your life appears to me too severe; I see indeed that your fervor is too great for any doubt of you to be possible, but I ought to consider those who shall come after you, lest your mode of life should be beyond their strength."? Adding a few kind words, he dismissed them without coming to any definite conclusion, promising to consult the cardinals, and advising Francis in particular to address himself to God, to the end that he might manifest his will. 1 3 Soc., 48. 2 3 Soc., 49; 1 Cel., 33; Bon., 35 and 36. All this has been much worked over by tradition and gives us only an echo of the reality. It would certainly have needed very little for the Penitents to meet the same fate before Innocent III, as the Waldenses before Lucius III. Traces of this interview are found in two texts which appear to me to be too suspicious to warrant their insertion in the body of the narrative. The first is a fragment of Matthew Paris : Papa itaque in fratre memorato habitum deformem, vultum despicabilem, barbam prolixam, capillos in. cultos, supercilia pendentia et nigra diligenter considerans ; cum peti- tionem ejus tam arduam et executione impossibilem recitare fecisset, des- pexit cum et dixit: Vade frater, et quære porcus, quibus potius debes quam hominibus comparari, et involve te cum eis in volutabro, et regulam illis a te commentatam tradens, officium tuc prædicationis impende. Quod audiens Franciscus inclinato capite exivit et porcis tandem inventis, in luto se cum eis tamdiu involvit quousque a planta pedis usque ad verticem, corpus sylum totum cum ipso habitu polluisset. Sicque ad consis- torium revertens Papce se conspectibus præsentavit dicens: Domine feci sicut præcepisti exaudi nunc obsecro petitionem meam. Ed. Wats, p. 340. The incident has a real Franciscan color, and should have some historio basis. Curiously, it in some sort meets a passage in the legend of Bonaventura which is an interpolation of the end of the thirteenth century. See A. SS., p. 591. 3 98 LIFE OF ST. FRANOIS Francis's anxiety must have been great; he could not understand these dilatory measures, these expressions of affection which never led to a categorical approbation. It seemed to him that he had said all that he had to say. For new arguments he had only one resource-prayer. He felt his prayer answered when in his conversation with Jesus the parable of poverty came to him; he re- turned to lay it before the pope. There was in the desert a woman who was very poor, but beautiful. A great king, seeing her beauty, desired to take her for his wife, for he thought that by her he should have beautiful children. The marriage contracted and consummated, many sons were born to him. When they were grown up, their mother spoke to them thus : “My sons, you have no cause to blush, for you are the sons of the king ; go, therefore, to his ourt, and he will give you everything you need." When they arrived at the court the king admired their beauty, and finding in them his own likeness he asked, “Whose sons are you? And when they replied that they were the sons of a poor woman who lived in the desert, the king clasped them to his heart with joy, saying “Have no fear, for you are my sons; if strangers eat at my table, mucb. more shall you who are my lawful sons. " Then the king sent word to the woman to send to his court all the sons which she had borne, that they might be nourished there. “ “Very holy father," added Francis, “I am this poor woman whom God in his love has deigned to make beautiful, and of whom he has been pleased to have lawful sons. The King of Kings has told me that he will provide for all the sons which he may have of me, for if he sus- tains bastards, how much more his legitimate sons. 191 1 3 Soc., 50 and 51; Bon., 37; 2 Cel., 1, 11 ; Bernard de Besse, Turin MS., fo 101b. Ubertini di Casali (Arbor vitæ crucifirce, Venice, 1485, lib. V., cap. iii.) tells a curious story in which he depicts the in- dignation of the prelates against Francis. Quænam hæc est doctrina nova quam infers auribus nostris? Quis potest vivere sine temporalium posses- sione? Numquid tu melior es quam patres nostri qui dederunt nobis tem- poralia et in temporalibus abundantes ecclesias possiderunt? Then follows the fine prayer inserted by Wadding in Francis's works. The central idea is the same as in the parable of poverty. This story, though not referable to any source, has nevertheless its importance, since it shows how in the year 1300 a man who had all the documents before his eyes, represented to himself Francis's early steps. ST. FRANCIS AND INNOCENT III 99 So níuch simplicity, joined with such pious obstinacy, at last conquered Innocent. In the humble mendicant he perceived an apostle and prophet whose mouth no power could close. Successor of St. Peter and vicar of Jesus Christ that he felt himself, he saw in the mean and despised man before him one who with the authority of absolute faith proclaimed himself the root of a new lineage of most legitimate Christians. The biographers have held that by this parable Francis sought above all things to tranquillize the pope as to the future of the brethren; they find in it a reply to the anxieties of the pontiff, who feared to see them starve to death. There can be no doubt that its original meaning was totally different. It shows that with all his humility Francis knew how to speak out boldly, and that all his respect for the Church could not hinder his seeing, and, when necessary, saying, that he and his brethren were the lawful sons of the gospel, of which the members of the clergy were only extranei. We shall find in the course of his life more than one example of this indom- itable boldness, which disarmed Innocent III. as well as the future Gregory IX. In a consistory which doubtless was held between the two audiences some of the cardinals expressed the opin- ion that the initiative of the Penitents of Assisi was an innovation, and that their mode of life was entirely be- yond human power. “But,” replied Giovanni di San Paolo, “if we hold that to observe gospel perfection and make profession of it is an irrational and impos- sible innovation, are we not convicted of blasphemy against Christ, the author of the gospel ? These words struck Innocent III. with great force; he knew better than any one that the possessions of the ec- clesiastics were the great obstacles to the reform of the i Bon., 36. » 1 100 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Church, and that the threatened success of the Albigen- sian heresy was especially due to the fact that it preached the doctrine of poverty. Two years before he had accorded his approbation to a group of Waldensians, who under the name Poor Cath- olics had desired to remain faithful to the Church ;1 he therefore gave his approval to the Penitents of Assisi, but, as a contemporary chronicler has well observed, it was in the hope that they would wrest the banner from heresy.? Yet his doubts and hesitations were not entirely dis- sipated. He reserved his definitive approbation, there- fore, while lavishing upon the brothers the most affec- tionate tokens of interest. He authorized them to con- tinue their missions everywhere, after having gained the consent of their ordinaries. He required, however, that they should give themselves a responsible superior to whom the ecclesiastical authorities could always address themselves. Naturally, Francis was chosen. This fact, so humble in appearance, definitively constituted the Franciscan family. | The attempt of Durand of Huesca to create a mendicant order has not yet been studied with sufficient minuteness. Chief of the Wal- denses of Aragon, he was present in 1207 at the conference of Pamiers, and decided to return to the Church. Received with kindness by the pope he at first had a great success, and by 1209 had established com- munities in Aragon, at Carcassonne, Narbonne, Béziers, Nimes, Uzès, Milan. We find in this movement all the lineaments of the institute of St. Dominic; it was an order of priests to whom theological stud- ies were recommended. They disappeared almost completely in the storm of the Albigensian crusade. Innocent III., epistolce, xi., 196, 197, 198, ; xii., 17, 66 ; xiii., 63, 77, 78,94 ; XV., 82, 83, 90, 91, 92, 93, 94, 96, 137, 146. The first of these bulls contains the very curious Rule of this ephemeral order. Upon its disappearance vide Ripoli, Bullarium Prædicatorum, 8 vols., folio, Rome, 1729–1740, t. i., p. 96. Cf. Elie Berger, Registres d'Innocent IV., 2752. ? Burchard, of the order of the Premostrari, who died in 1226. See below, p. 234. 33 Soc., 52 ; Bon., 38. ST. FRANCIS AND INNOCENT III 101 The mystics whom we saw going from village to vil- lage transported with love and liberty accepted the yoke almost without thinking about it. This yoke will pre- serve them from the disintegration of the heretics, but it will make itself sharply felt by those pure souls; they will one day look back to the early days of the Order as the only time when their life was truly conformed to the gospel. When Francis heard the words of the supreme pontiff he prostrated himself at his feet, promising the most perfect obedience with all his heart. The pope blessed them, saying: “Go, my brethren, and may God be with you. Preach penitence to everyone according as the Lord may deign to inspire you. Then when the All- powerful shall have made you multiply and go forward, you will refer to us; we will concede what you ask, and we may then with greater security accord to you even more than you ask.” 1 Francis and his companions were too little familiar with Roman phraseology to perceive that after all the Holy See had simply consented to suspend judgment in view of the uprightness of their intentions and the purity of their faith. The flowers of clerical rhetoric hid from them the shackles which had been laid upon them. The curia, in fact, was not satisfied with Francis's vow of fidelity, it desired in addition to stamp the Penitents with the seal of the Church : the Cardinal of San Paolo was deputed to confer upon them the tonsure. From this time they were all under the spiritual authority of the Roman Church. 2 13 Soc., 52 and 49. St. Antonino, Archbishop of Florence, saw very clearly that it was quædam concessio simplex habitus et modi illius vivendi et quasi permissio. A. SS., p. 839. The expression “ approbation of the Rule" by which the act of Innocent III, is usually designated is therefore erroneous. 102 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS All un- The thoroughly lay creation of St. Francis had become, in spite of himself, an ecclesiastical institution : it must soon degenerate into a clerical institution. awares, the Franciscan movement had been unfaithful to its origin. The prophet had abdicated in favor of the priest, not indeed without possibility of return, for when a man has once reigned, I would say, thought, in liberty- what other kingdom is there on this earth ?-he makes but an indifferent slave; in vain he tries to submit; in spite of himself it happens at times that he lifts his head proudly, he rattles his chains, he remembers the struggles, sadness, anguish of the days of liberty, and weeps their loss. Among the sons of St. Francis many were destined to weep their lost liberty, many to die to conquer it again. CHAPTER VII RIVO-TORTO 1210-1211 THE Penitents of Assisi were overflowing with joy. After so many mortally long days spent in that Rome, so different from the other cities that they knew, exposed to the ill-disguised suspicions of the prelates and the jeers of pontifical lackeys, the day of departure seemed to them like a deliverance. At the thought of once more seeing their beloved mountains they were seized by that homesickness of the child for its native village which sim- ple and kindly souls preserve till their latest breath. Immediately after the ceremony they prayed at the tomb of St. Peter, and then crossing the whole city they quitted Rome by the Porta Salara. Thomas of Celano, very brief as to all that concerns Francis's sojourn in the Eternal City, recounts at full length the light-heartedness of the little band on quitting it. Already it began to be transfigured in their memory; pains, fatigues, fears, disquietude, hesitations were all forgotten; they thought only of the fatherly assurances of the supreme pontiff-the vicar of Christ, the lord and father of the Christian universe — and promised them- selves to make ever new efforts to follow the Rule with fidelity. Full of these thoughts they had set out, without pro- visions, to cross the Campagna of Rome, whose few inhab- itants never venture out in the heat of the day. The 104 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS road stretches away northward, keeping at some distance from the Tiber; on the left the jagged crest of Soracte, bathed in mists formed by the exhalations of the earth, looms up disproportionately as it fades in the distance; on the right, the everlasting undulations of the hillocks with their wide pastures separated by thickets so parched and ragged that they seemed to cry for mercy and pardon. Between them the dusty road which goes straight forward, implacable, showing, as far as the eye can reach, nothing but the quivering of the fiery air. Not a house, not a tree, not a passing breeze, nothing to sustain the traveller under the disquietude which creeps over him. Here and there are a few abandoned huts, their ruins looking like the corpses of departed civilizations, and on the edge of the horizon the hills rising up like gigantic and un- surmountable walls. There are no words to describe the physical and moral sufferings to which he is exposed who undertakes without proper preparation to cross this inhospitable district. To the weakness caused by lack of air soon succeeds an insurmountable lassitude. The feet sink in a soft, tenu- ous dust which every step sends up in clouds ; it covers you, penetrates your skin, and parches your mouth even more than thirst. Little by little all energy ebbs away, a dumb dejection seizes you, sight and thought become alike confused, fever ensues, and you cast yourself down by the roadside, unable to take another step. In their haste to leave Rome Francis and his compan- ions had forgotten all this, and had imprudently set forth. They would have succumbed if a chance traveller had not brought them succor. He was obliged to leave them before they had shaken off the last hallucinations of fe- ver, leaving them amazed with the unexpected succor which Providence had sent them.1 11 Cel., 34; 3 Soc., 53 ; 3on., 39. RIVO-TORTO 105 They were so severely shattered that on arriving at Orte they were obliged to stop awhile. In a desert spot not far from this city they found a shelter admirably adapted to serve them for refuge ;1 it was one of those Etruscan tombs so common in that country, whose chambers serve to this day as a shelter for beggars and gypsies. While some of the brethren hastened to the city to beg for food, the others remained in this solitude enjoying the happi- ness of being together, forming a thousand plans, and more than ever delighting in the charm of freedom from care and renunciation of material goods. This place had so strong an attraction for them that it required an effort of will to quit it at the end of a fort- night. The seduction of a life purely contemplative as- sailed Francis, and he asked himself if instead of preach- ing to the multitudes he would not do better to live in retreat, solely mindful of the inward dialogue between the soul and God.2 This aspiration for the selfish repose of the cloister came back to him several times in his life ; but love al- ways won the victory. He was too much the child of his time not to be at times tempted by that happiness which the Middle Ages regarded as the supreme bliss of the elect in paradise-peace. Beati mortui quia quiescunt ! His distinguishing peculiarity is that he never gave way to it. The reflections of Francis and his companions during their stay at Orte only made their apostolic mission more clear and imperative to them. He, above all, seemed to be filled with a new ardor, and like a valiant knight he burned to throw himself into the thick of the fray. 1 Probably at Otricoli, which lies on the high-road between Rome and Spoleto. Orte is an hour and a half further on. It is the ancient Otric- ulum, where many antiquities have been found. ? 1 Cel., 35; Bon., 40 and 41. 106 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Their way now led through the valley of the Nera. The contrast between these cool glens, awake with a thousand voices, and the desolation of the Roman Cam- pagna, must have struck them vividly; the stream is only a swollen torrent, but it runs so noisily over pebbles and rocks that it seems to be conversing with them and with the trees of the neighboring forest. In proportion as they had felt themselves alone on the road from Rome to Otricoli, they now felt themselves compassed about with the life, the fecundity, the gayety of the country. The account of Thomas of Celano becomes so ani- mated as it describes the life of Francis at this epoch that one cannot help thinking that at this time he must have seen him, and that this first meeting remained al- ways in his memory as the radiant dawn of his spiritual life.1 The Brothers had taken to preaching in such places as they came upon along their route. Their words were always pretty much the same, they showed the blessed- ness of peace and exhorted to penitence. Emboldened by the welcome they had received at Rome, which in all in- nocence they might have taken to be more favorable than it really was, they told the story to everyone they met, and thus set all scruples at rest. These exhortations, in which Francis spared not his hearers, but in which the sternest reproaches were min- gled with so much of love, produced an enormous effect. Man desires above all things to be loved, and when he meets one who loves him sincerely he very seldom re- fuses him either his love or his admiration. It is only a low understanding that confounds love with weakness and compliance. We sometimes see sick 1 The only road connecting Celano with Rome, as well as with all Central and Northern Italy, passes by Aquila, Rieti, and Terni, where it joins the high-roads leading from the north toward Rome. RIVO-TORTO 107 men feverishly kissing the hand of the surgeon who per- forms an operation upon them; we sometimes do the same for our spiritual surgeons, for we realize all that there is of vigor, pity, compassion in the tortures which they inflict, and the cries which they force from us are quite as much of gratitude as of pain. Men hastened from all parts to hear these preachers who were more severe upon themselves than on anyone else. Members of the secular clergy, monks, learned men, rich men even, often mingled in the impromptu audiences gathered in the streets and public places. All were not converted, but it would have been very difficult for any of them to forget this stranger whom they met one day upon their way, and who in a few words had moved them to the very bottom of their hearts with anxiety and fear. Francis was in truth, as Celano says, the bright morn- ing star. His simple preaching took hold on consciences, snatched his hearers from the mire and blood in which they were painfully trudging, and in spite of themselves carried them to the very heavens, to those serene regions where all is silent save the voice of the heavenly Father. “The whole country trembled, the barren land was already covered with a rich harvest, the withered vine began again to blossom." 1 Only a profoundly religious and poetic soul (is not the one the other?) can understand the transports of joy which overflowed the souls of St. Francis's spiritual sons. The greatest crime of our industrial and commercial civilization is that it leaves us a taste only for that which may be bought with money, and makes us overlook the purest and truest joys which are all the time within our reach. The evil has roots far in the past. “Wherefore, said the God of old Isaiah,“ do you weigh money for that which is not meat ? why labor for that which satis- 11 Cel., 36 and 37; 3 Soc., 54; Bon., 45-48. 10€ LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS fieth not? Hearken unto me, and ye shall eat that which is good, and your soul shall delight itself in fat- ness.” 1 Joys bought with money-noisy, feverish pleasures are nothing compared with those sweet, quiet, modest but profound, lasting, and peaceful joys, enlarging, not weary- ing the heart, which we too often pass by on one side, like those peasants whom we see going into ecstasies over the fireworks of a fair, while they have not so much as a glance for the glorious splendors of a sum- mer night. In the plain of Assisi, at an hour's walk from the city and near the highway between Perugia and Rome, was a ruinous cottage called Rivo-Torto. A torrent, almost always dry, but capable of becoming terrible in a storm, descends from Mount Subasio and passes beside it. The ruin had no owner; it had served as a leper hospital before the construction by the Crucigeri? of their hospital 1 Isaiah, lv., 2. 2 This Order deserves to be better known ; it was founded under Alexander III. and rapidly spread all over Central Italy and the East. In Francis's lifetime it had in Italy and the Holy Land about forty houses dedicated to the care of lepers. It is very probable that it was at San Salvatore delle pareti that Francis visited these unhappy sufferers. He there made the particular acquaintance of a Cruciger named Morico. The latter afterward falling ill, Francis sent him a remedy which would cure him, informing him at the same time that he was to become his disciple, which shortly afterward took place. The hospital San Salva- tore has disappeared ; it stood in the place now called Ospedaletto, where a small chapel now stands half way between Assisi and Santa Maria degli Angeli. It was from there that the dying Francis blessed Assisi. For Morico vide 3 Soc., 35 ; Bon., 49; 2 Cel., 3, 128 ; Conform., 63b.- For the hospital vide Bon., 49 ; Conform., 135a, 1; Honorii III. opera, Horoy, t. i., col. 206. Cf. Potthast, 7746 ; L. Auvray, Registres de Grégoire IX., Paris, 1890, 4to, no. 209. For the Crucigeri in the time of St. Francis vide the interesting bull Cum tu fili prior, of July 8, Migne, Inn. op., t. ii., col. 125 ff. Cf. Potthast, 1959, and Cum pastoris, April 5, 1204 · Migne, loc. cit., 319. Cf. Potthast, 2169 and 4474. 1203 ; RIVO-TORTO 109 San Salvatore delle pareti; but since that time it had been abandoned. Now came Francis and his companions to seek shelter there. It is one of the quietest spots in the suburbs of Assisi, and from thence they could easily go out into the neighborhood in all directions; it being about an equal distance from Portiuncula and St. Da- mian. But the principal motive for the choice of the place seems to have been the proximity of the Carceri, as those shallow natural grottos are called which are found in the forests, half way up the side of Mount Subasio. Following up the bed of the torrent of Rivo-Torto one reaches them in an hour by way of rugged and slippery paths where the very goats do not willingly venture. Once arrived, one might fancy oneself a thousand leagues from any human being, so numerous are the birds of prey which live here quite undisturbed.? Francis loved this solitude and often retired thither with a few companions. The brethren in that case shared between them all care of their material wants, after which, each one retiring into one of these caves, they were able for a few days to listen only to the inner voice. These little hermitages, sufficiently isolated to secure them from disturbance, but near enough to the cities to 'permit their going thither to preach, may be found wherever Francis went. They form, as it were, a series of documents about his life quite as important as the written witnesses. Something of his soul may still be found in these caverns in the Apennine forests. He never separated the contemplative from the active life. A precious witness to this fact is found in the regu- '3 Soc., 55. 2 All this yet remains in its primitive state. The road which went from Assisi to the now ruined Abbey of Mount Subasio (almost on the summit of the mountain) passed the Carceri, where there was a little chapel built by the Benedictinus. 110 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS 1 lations for the brethren during their sojourn in her- mitage. The return of the Brothers to Rivo-Torto was marked by a vast increase of popularity. The prejudiced attacks to which they had formerly been subjected were lost in a chorus of praises. Perhaps men suspected the ill-will of the bishop and were happy to see him checked. How- ever this may be, a lively feeling of sympathy and admi- ration was awakened ; the people recalled to mind the indifference manifested by the son of Bernardone a few months before with regard to Otho IV. going to be crowned at Rome. The emperor had made a progress through Italy with a numerous suite and a pomp de- signed to produce an effect on the minds of the populace; but not only had Francis not interrupted his work to go and see him, he had enjoined upon his friars also to ab- stain from going, and had merely selected one of them to carry to the monarch a reminder of the ephemeral nature of worldly glory. Later on it was held that he had pre- dicted to the emperor his approaching excommunication. This spirited attitude made a vivid impression on the popular imagination. Perhaps it was of more service in forming general opinion than anything he had done thus far. The masses, who are not often alive to delicate sentiments, respond quickly to those who, whether rightly or wrongly, do not bow down before power. This time they perceived that where other men would see the poor, the rich, the noble, the common, the learned, Francis 1 Illi qui religiose volunt stare in eremis sint tres aut quatuor ad plus. Duo ex ipsis sint matres, et habeant duos filios, vel unum ad minus. Illi duo teneant vitam Marthe et alii duo vitam Marice Magdalenæ. Assisi MS., 338, 43a-b ; text given also in Conf., 143a, 1, from which Wadding borrows it for his edition of the Opuscules of St. Francis. Cf. 2 Cel., 3, 113. It is possible that we have here a fragment of the Rule, which must have been composed toward 1217. ? 1 Cel., 42 and 43 ; 3 Soc., 55 ; Bon., 41. RIVO-TORTO 111 saw only souls, which were to him the more precious as they were more neglected or despised. No biographer informs us how long the Penitents re- mained at Rivo-Torto. It seems probable, however, that they spent there the latter part of 1210 and the early months of 1211, evangelizing the towns and villages of the neighborhood. They suffered much; this part of the plain of Assisi is inundated by torrents nearly every autumn, and many times the poor friars, blockaded in the lazaretto, were forced to satisfy their hunger with a few roots from the neighboring fields. The barrack in which they lived was so narrow that, when they were all there at once, they had much diffi- culty not to crowd one another. To secure to each one his due quota of space, Francis wrote the name of each brother upon the column which supports the building. But these minor discomforts in no sense disturbed their happiness. No apprehension had as yet come to cloud Francis's hopes ; he was overflowing with joy and kind- liness; all the memories which Rivo-Torto has left with the Order are fresh and sweet pictures of him. One night all the brethren seemed to be sleeping, when he heard a moaning. It was one of his sheep, to speak after the manner of the Franciscan biographer, who had denied himself too rigorously and was dying of hunger. Francis immediately rose, called the brother to him, brought forth the meagre reserve of food, and himself began to eat to inspire the other with courage, explaining to him that if penitence is good it is still necessary to temper it with discretion.? 11 Cel., 42-44. * 2 Cel., 1,15; Bon., 65. These two authors do not say where the event f.ook place ; but there appears to be no reason for suspecting the indica won of Rivo-Torto given by the Speculum, fo. 21a. 112 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Francis had that tact of the heart which divines the secrets of others and anticipates their desires. At an- other time, still at Rivo-Torto, he took a sick brother by the hand, led him to a grape vine, and, presenting him with a fine cluster, began himself to eat of it. It was nothing, but the simple act so bound to him the sick man's heart that many years after the brother could not speak of it without emotion." But Francis was far from neglecting his mission. Ever growing more sure, not of himself but of his duty toward men, he took part in the political and social affairs of his province with the confidence of an upright and pure heart, never able to understand how stupidity, per- verseness, pride, and indolence, by leaguing themselves together, may check the finest and most righteous im- pulses. He had the faith which removes mountains, and was wholly free from that touch of scepticism, so com- mon in our day, which points out that it is of no more use to move mountains than to change the place of difficulties. When the people of Assisi learned that his Rule had been approved by the pope there was strong excitement; every one desired to hear him preach. The clergy were obliged to give way; they offered him the Church of St. George, but this church was manifestly insufficient for the crowds of hearers; it was necessary to open the cathedral to him. St. Francis never said anything especially new; to win hearts he had that which is worth more than any arts of oratory--an ardent conviction; he spoke as compelled by the imperious need of kindling others with the flame that burned within himself. When they heard him recall the horrors of war, the crimes of the populace, the laxity of the great, the rapacity which dishonored the Church, ' 2 Cel., 3, 110. Cf. Spec., 22a. RIVO-TORTO 113 the age-long widowhood of Poverty, each one felt himself taken to task in his own conscience. An attentive or excited crowd is always very impres- sionable, but this peculiar sensitiveness was perhaps stronger in the Middle Ages than at any other time. Nervous disturbances were in the air, and upon men thus prepared the will of the preacher impressed itself in a manner almost magnetic. To understand what Francis's preaching must have been like we must forget the manners of to-day, and transport ourselves for a moment to the Cathedral of Assisi in the thirteenth century; it is still standing, but the centuries have given to its stones a fine rust of pol- ished bronze, which recalls Venice and Titian's tones of ruddy gold. It was new then, and all sparkling with whiteness, with the fine rosy tinge of the stones of Mount Subasio. It had been built by the people of Assisi a few years before in one of those outbursts of faith and union which were almost everywhere the prelude of the communal movement. So, when the peo- ple thronged into it on their high days, they not merely had none of that vague respect for a holy place which, though it has passed into the customs of other countries, still continues to be unknown in Italy, but they felt themselves at home in a palace which they had built for themselves. More than in any other church they there felt themselves at liberty to criticise the preacher, and they had no hesitation in proving to him, either by mur- murs of dissatisfaction or by applause, just what they thought of his words. We must remember also that the churches of Italy have neither pews nor chairs, that one must listen standing or kneeling, while the preacher walks about gesticulating on a platform; add to this the general curiosity, the clamorous sympathies of many, the disguised opposition of some, and we shall have a vague 8 114 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS notion of the conditions under which Francis first entered the pulpit of San Rufino. His success was startling. The poor felt that they had found a friend, a brother, a champion, almost an avenger. The thoughts which they hardly dared murmur beneath their breath Francis proclaimed at the top of his voice, daring to bid all, without distinction, to repent and love bne another. His words were a cry of the heart, an ap- peal to the consciences of all his fellow-citizens, almost recalling the passionate utterances of the prophets of Israel. Like those witnesses for Jehovah the little poor man ” of Assisi had put on sackcloth and ashes to de- nounce the iniquities of his people, like theirs was his courage and heroism, like theirs the divine tenderness in his heart. It seemed as if Assisi were about to recover again the feeling of Israel for sin. The effect of these appeals was prodigious; the entire population was thrilled, conquered, desiring in future to live only according to Francis's counsels; his very companions, who had remained behind at Rivo-Torto, hearing of these marvels, felt in them- selves an answering thrill, and their vocation took on a new strength; during the night they seemed to see their master in a chariot of fire, soaring to heaven like a new Elijah." This almost delirious enthusiasm of a whole people was not perhaps so difficult to arouse as might be sup- posed: the emotional power of the masses was at that time as great all over Europe as it was in Paris during certain days of the Revolution. We all know the tragic and touching story of those companies of children from the north of Europe who appeared in 1212 in troops of several thousands, boys and girls mingled together pell- mell. Nothing could stop them, a mania had overtaken 11 Cel., 47 ; Bon., 43. RIVO-TORTO 115 them, in all good faith they believed that they were to deliver the Holy Land, that the sea would be dried up to let them pass. They perished, we hardly know how, , perhaps being sold into slavery. They were accounted martyrs, and rightly; popular devotion likened them to the Holy Innocents, dying for a God whom they knew not. These children of the crusade also perished for an unknown ideal, false no doubt; but is it not better to die for an unknown and even a false ideal than to live for the vain realities of an utterly unpoetic existence? In the end of time we shall be judged neither by philoso- phers nor by theologians, and if we were, it is to be hoped that even in this case love would cover a multitude of sins and pass by many follies. Certainly if ever there was a time when religious affec- tions of the nerves were to be dreaded, it was that which produced such movements as these. All Europe seemed to be beside itself; women appeared stark naked in the streets of towns and villages, slowly walking up and down, silent as phantoms. We can understand now the 1 There are few events of the thirteenth century that offer more docu- ments or are more obscure than this one. The chroniclers of the most diſferent countries speak of it at length. Here is one of the shortest but most exact of the notices, given by an eye-witness (Annals of Genoa of the years 1197–1219, apud Mon. Germ. hist. Script., t. 18): 1212 in mense Augusti, die Sabbati, octava Kalendarum Septembris, intravit civi- tutem Janue quidam puer Teutonicus nomine Nicholaus peregrinationis causa, et cum eo multitudo maxima pelegrinorum defferentes cruces et bor. donos atque scarsellas ultra septem millia arbitratu boni viri inter homines et feminas et puellos et puellus. Et die dominica sequenti de civitate exierunt. —Cf. Giacomo di Viraggio : Muratori, t. ix., col. 46 : Dicebant quod mare debebat apud Januam siccari et sic ipsi debebant in Hierusalem proficisci. Multi autem inter eos erant filii Nobilium, quos ipsi etiam cum meretricibus destinarunt (!) The most tragic account is that of Alberic, who relates the fate of the company that embarked at Marseilles. Mon. Ger. hist. Script., t. 23, p. 894. ? The Benedictine chronicler, Albert von Stade (Mon. Ger. hist. Script., t. 16, pp. 271-379), thus closes his notice of the children's cra 116 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS accounts which have come down to us, so fantastic at the first glance, of certain popular orators of this time; of Berthold of Ratisbon, for example, who drew together crowds of sixteen thousand persons, or of that Fra Gio- vanni Schio di Vicenza, who for a time quieted all North- ern Italy and brought Guelphs and Ghibellines into one another's arms. 1 That popular eloquence which was to accomplish so many marvels in 1233 comes down in a straight line from the Franciscan movement. It was St. Francis who set the example of those open-air sermons given in the vul- gar tongue, at street corners, in public squares, in the fields. To feel the change which he brought about we must read the sermons of his contemporaries; declamatory, scholastic, subtile, they delighted in the minutiæ of exe- gesis or dogma, serving up refined dissertations on the most obscure texts of the Old Testament, to hearers starv- ing for a simple and wholesome diet. With Francis, on the contrary, all is incisive, clear, practical. He pays no attention to the precepts of the rhetoricians, he forgets himself completely, thinking only of the end desired, the conversion of souls. And con- version was not in his view something vague and indis- tinct, which must take place only between God and the hearer. No, he will have immediate and practical proofs of conversion. Men must give up ill-gotten gains, re- nounce their enmities, be reconciled with their adver- saries. sade: Adhuc quo devenerint ignoruntur sed plurimi redierunt, a quibus cum quæreretur causa cursus dixerunt se nescire. Nudo etiam mulieres circa idem tempus nihil loquentes per villas et civitates cucurrerunt. Loc. cit., p. 355. 1 Chron. Veronese, ann. 1238 (Muratori, Scriptores Rer. Ital., t. viii., p. 626). Cf. Barbarano de' Mironi: Hist. Eccles. di Vicenza, t. ii., pp. 79-84. RIVO-TORTO 117 At Assisi he threw himself valiantly into the thick of civil dissensions. The agreement of 1202 between the parties who divided the city had been wholly ephemeral. The common people were continually demanding new liberties, which the nobles and burghers would yield to them only under the pressure of fear. Francis took up the cause of the weak, the minores, and succeeded in rec- onciling them with the rich, the majores. His spiritual family had not as yet, properly speaking, a name, for, unlike those too hasty spirits who baptize their productions before they have come to light, he was waiting for the occasion that should reveal the true name which he ought to give it. One day someone was reading the Rule in his presence. When he came to the passage, “Let the brethren, wherever they may find them- selves called to labor or to serve, never take an office which shall put them over others, but on the contrary, let them be always under (sint minores) all those who may be in that house," 2 these words sint minores of the Rule, in the circumstances then existing in the city, suddenly appeared to him as a providential indication. His institution should be called the Order of the Brothers Minor We may imagine the effect of this determination. The Saint, for already this magic word had burst forth where he appeared, the Saint had spoken. It was he who was about to bring peace to the city, acting as arbiter be- tween the two factions which rent it. We still possess the document of this pace civile, ex- 1 The Brothers were at first called Viri pænitentiales de civitate As- sisië (3 Soc., 37) ; it appears that they had a momentary thought of call- ing themselves Pauperes de Assisio, but they were doubtless dissuaded from this át Rome, as too closely resembling that of the Pauperes de Lugduno. Vide Burchardi chronicon., p. 376 ; vide Introd., cap. 5. ? Vide Rule of 1221, cap. 7. Cf. 1 Cel., 38, and Bon., 78. 1 Col., 36. 3 118 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS humed, so to speak, from the communal archives of As- sisi by the learned and pious Antonio Cristofani. The opening lines are as follows: " In the name of God! "May the supreme grace of the Holy Spirit assist us! To the honor of our Lord Jesus Christ, the blessed Virgin Mary, the Emperor Otho, and Duke Leopold. “This is the statute and perpetual agreement between the Majori and Minori of Assisi. “Without common consent there shall never be any sort of alliance either with the pope and his nuncios or legates, or with the emperor, or with the king, or with their nuncios or legates, or with any city or town, or with any important person, except with a common accord they shall do all which there may be to do for the honor, safety, and advan- tage of the commune of Assisi," What follows is worthy of the beginning. The lords, in consideration of a small periodical payment, should renounce all the feudal rights; the inhabitants of the villages subject to Assisi were put on a par with those of the city, foreigners were protected, the assessment of taxes was fixed. On Wednesday, November 9, 1210, this agreement was signed and sworn to in the public place of Assisi ; it was made in such good faith that exiles were able to return in peace, and from this day we find in the city registers the names of those émigrés who, in 1202, had betrayed their city and provoked the disastrous war with Perugia. Francis might well be happy. Love had triumphed, and for several years there were at Assisi neither victors nor vanquished. In the mystic marriages which here and there in his- tory unite a man to a people, something takes place of which the transports of sense, the delirium of love, seem to be the only symbol; a moment comes in which saints, · Storia d'Assisi, t. l., pp. 123–129. RIVO-TORTO 119 or men of genius, feel unknown powers striving mightily within them; they strive, they seek, they struggle until, triumphing over all obstacles, they have forced trembling, swooning humanity to conceive by them. This moment had come to St. Francis CHAPTER VITT PORTIUNCULA 1211 It was doubtless toward the spring of 1211 that the Brothers quitted Rivo-Torto. They were engaged in prayer one day, when a peasant appeared with an ass, which he noisily drove before him into the poor shelter. “Go in, go in!” he cried to his beast; "we shall be most comfortable here.” It appeared that he was afraid that if the Brothers remained there much longer they would begin to think this deserted place was their own.1 Such rudeness was very displeasing to Francis, who im- mediately arose and departed, followed by his compan- ions. Now that they were so numerous the Brothers could no longer continue their wandering life in all respects as in the past; they had need of a permanent shelter and above all of a little chapel. They addressed themselves in vain first to the bishop and then to the canons of San Rufino for the loan of what they needed, but were more fortunate with the abbot of the Benedictines of Mount Subasio, who ceded to them in perpetuity the use of a chapel already very dear to their hearts, Santa Maria degli Angeli or the Portiuncula. Francis was enchanted; he saw a mysterious harmo- 11 Cel., 44 ; 3 Soc., 55. * 3 Soc., 56 ; Spec., 32b; Conform., 217b, 1; Fior. Bibl. Angelo, Amoni, p. 378. PORTIUNCULA 121 ny, ordained by God himself, between the name of the humble sanctuary and that of his Order. The brethren quickly built for themselves a few huts; a quickset hedge served as enclosing wall, and thus in three or four days was organized the first Franciscan convent. For ten years they were satisfied with this. These ten years are the heroic period of the Order. St. Francis, in full possession of his ideal, will seek to inculcate it upon his disciples and will succeed sometimes; but already the too rapid multiplication of the brotherhood will provoke some symptoms of relaxation. The remembrance of the beginning of this period has drawn from the lips of Thomas of Celano a sort of can- ticle in honor of the monastic life. It is the burning and untranslatable commentary of the Psalmist's cry: “Behold how sweet and pleasant it is to be brethren and to dwell to- gether." Their cloister was the forest which then extended on all sides of Portiuncula, occupying a large part of the plain. There they gathered around their master to receive his spiritual counsels, and thither they retired to meditate and pray. It would be a gross mistake, however, to sup- pose that contemplation absorbed them completely dur- ing the days which were not consecrated to missionary tours: a part of their time was spent in manual labor. The intentions of St. Francis have been more misap- prehended on this point than on any other, but it may be said that nowhere is he more clear than when he ordains that his friars shall gain their livelihood by the work of their hands. He never dreamed of creating a mendicant order, he created a laboring order. It is true we shall often see him begging and urging his disciples to do as much, but these incidents ought not to mislead us; they 1 This forest has disappeared. Some of Francis's counsels have been collected in the Admonitions. See 1 Cel., 37-41. f 122 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS are meant to teach that when a friar arrived in any locality and there spent his strength for long days in dispensing spiritual bread to famished souls, he ought not to blush to receive material bread in exchange. To work was the rule, to beg the exception; but this excep- tion was in nowise dishonorable. Did not Jesus, the Virgin, the disciples live on bread bestowed ? Was it not rendering a great service to those to whom they re- sorted to teach them charity ? Francis in his poetic language gave the name of mensa Domini, the table of the Lord, to this table of love around which gathered the little poor ones. The bread of charity is the bread of angels; and it is also that of the birds, which reap not nor gather into barns. We are far enough, in this case, from that mendicity which is understood as a means of existence and the essential condition of a life of idleness. It is the oppo- site extreme, and we are true and just to St. Francis and to the origin of the mendicant orders only when we do not separate the obligation of labor from the praise of mendicity. No doubt this zeal did not last long, and Thomas of Celano already entitles his chapters, “ Lament before God over the idleness and gluttony of the friars ; ” but we must not permit this speedy and inevitable decadence to veil from our sight the holy and manly beauty of the origin. With all his gentleness Francis knew how to show an inflexible severity toward the idle; he even went so far as to dismiss a friar who refused to work. Nothing in | Vide Angelo Clareno, Tribul. cod. Laur., 3b. 9 2 Cel., 3, 97 and 98. The Conformities, 142a, 1, cite textually 97 as coming from the Legenda Antiqua. Cf. Spec., 64b.—2 Cel., 3, 21. Cf. Conform., 171a, 1; Spec., 19b. See especially Rule of 1221, cap. 7; Rule of 1223, cap. 5; the Will and 3 Soc. 41. The passage, liceat eis habere ferramenta et instrumenta suis artibus necessaria, sufficiently proves that certain friars had real trades. PORTIUNCULA 123 - Alla this matter better shows the intentions of the Poverello than the life of Brother Egidio, one of his dearest com- panions, him of whom he said with a smile: “He is one · of the paladins of my Round Table.” Brother Egidio had a taste for great adventures, and is a living example of a Franciscan of the earliest days; he survived his master twenty-five years, and never ceased to obey the letter and spirit of the Rule with freedom and simplicity We find him one day setting out on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. Arrived at Brindisi, he borrowed a water-jug that he might carry water while he was awaiting the departure of the ship, and passed a part of every day in crying through the streets of the city : fresca ! Alla fresca ! ” like other water-carriers. But he would change his trade according to the country and the circumstances; on his way back, at Ancona, he procured willow for making baskets, which he afterward sold, not for money but for his food. It even happened to him to be employed in burying the dead. Sent to Rome, every morning after finishing his relig- ious duties, he would take a walk of several leagues, to a certain forest, whence he brought a load of wood. Coming back one day he met a lady who wanted to buy it; they agreed on a price, and Egidio carried it to her house. But when he arrived at the house she perceived him to be a friar, and would have given him more than the price agreed upon. “My good lady,” he replied, “I will not permit myself to be overcome by avarice," and he departed without accepting anything at all. In the olive season he helped in the gathering ; in grape season he offered himself as vintager. One day on the Piazza di Roma, where men are hired for day's work, he saw a padrone who could not find a man to thrash his walnut tree; it was so high that no one dared risk him- 124 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS self in it. “If you will give me part of the nuts,” said Egidio, “I will do it willingly.” The bargain struck and the tree thrashed, there proved to be so many nuts that he did not know where to put his share. Gathering up his tunic he made a bag of it and full of joy returned to Rome, where he distributed them among all the poor whom he met. Is not this a charming incident? Does it not by it- self alone reveal the freshness, the youth, the kindness of heart of the first Franciscans? There is no end to the stories of the ingenuousness of Brother Egidio. All kinds of work seemed good to him provided he had time enough in the morning for his religious duties. Now he is in the service of the Cellarer of the Four Crowns at Rome, sifting flour and carrying water to the convent from the well of San Sisto. Now he is at Rieti, where le consents to remain with Cardinal Nicholas, bringing to every meal the bread which he had earned, notwith- standing the entreaties of the master of the house, who would gladly have provided for his wants. One day it rained so hard that Brother Egidio could not think of going out; the cardinal was already making merry over the thought that he would be forced to accept bread that he had not earned. But Egidio went to the kitchen, and finding that it needed cleaning he persuaded the cook to let him sweep it, and returned triumphant with the bread he had earned, which he ate at the car- dinal's table,1 From the very beginning Egidio's life commanded re- spect; it was at once so original, so gay, so spiritual,? 1 A. SS., Aprilis, t. iii., pp. 220-248; Fior. Vita d'Egidio ; Spec., 158 ff; Conform., 53-60. 2 Other examples will be found below; it may suffice to recall here his sally : “The glorious Virgin Mother of God had sinners for par. onts, she never entered any religious order, and yet she is what she is!" A. SS., loc. cit., p. 234. PORTIUNCULA 125 and so mystical, that even in the least exact and most expanded accounts his legend has remained almost free from all addition. He is, after St. Francis, the finest incarnation of the Franciscan spirit. The incidents which are here cited are all, so to speak, illustrations of the Rule; in fact there is nothing more explicit than its commands with respect to work. The Brothers, after entering upon the Order, were to continue to exercise the calling which they had when in the world, and if they had none they were to learn one. For payment they were to accept only the food that was necessary for them, but in case that was insufficient they might beg. In addition they were naturally permitted to own the instruments of their calling. Brother Gin- epro, whose acquaintance we shall make further on, had an awl, and gained his bread wherever he went by mending shoes, and we see St. Clara working even on her death-bed. This obligation to work with the hands merits all the more to be brought into the light, because it was des- tined hardly to survive St. Francis, and because to it is due in part the original character of the first generation of the Order. Yet this was not the real reason for the being of the Brothers Minor. Their mission consisted Labove all in being the spouses of Poverty. Terrified by the ecclesiastical disorders of the time, haunted by painful memories of his past life, Francis saw in money the special instrument of the devil; in moments of excitement he went so far as to execrate it, 1 The passage of the Will, firmiter volo quod omnes laborent, has a capital importance because it shows Francis renewing in the most solemn manner injunctions already made from the origin of the Order. Cf. 1 Cel., 38 and 39 ; Conform., 219b. 1: Juvabant Fratres pauperes homines in agris eorum et ipsi dabant postea eis de pane amore Dei. Spec., 34 ; 69. Vide also Archiv., t. ii., pp. 272 and 299 ; Eccleston, 1 and 15; 2 Cel., 1, 12. 126 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS as if there had been in the metal itself a sort of magical power and secret curse. Money was truly for him the sacrament of evil. This is not the place for asking if he was wrong ; grave authors have demonstrated at length the economic troub- les which would have been let loose upon the world if men had followed him. Alas! his madness, if madness it were, is a kind of which one need not fear the contagion. He felt that in this respect the Rule could not be too absolute, and that if unfortunately the door was opened to various interpretations of it, there would be no stopping-point. The course of events and the period- ical convulsions which shook his Order show clearly enough how rightly he judged. I do not know nor desire to know if theologians have yet come to a scientific conclusion with regard to the poverty of Jesus, but it seems evident to me that poverty with the labor of the hands is the ideal held up by the Galilean to the efforts of his disciples. Still it is easy to see that Franciscan poverty is neither to be confounded with the unfeeling pride of the stoic, nor with the stupid horror of all joy felt by certain devo- tees; St. Francis renounced everything only that he might the better possess everything. The lives of the immense majority of our contemporaries are ruled by the fatal error that the more one possesses the more one en- joys. Our exterior, civil liberties continually increase, but at the same time our inward freedom is taking flight; how many are there among us who are literally possessed by what they possess ? 1 Poverty not only permitted the Brothers to mingle with the poor and speak to them with authority, but, remov- ing from them all material anxiety, it left them free to 1 Nihil volebat proprietatis habere ut omnia plenius posset in Domino possidere. B. de Besse, 102a. PORTIUNCULA 127 enjoy without hindrance those hidden treasures which nature reserves for pure idealists. The ever-thickening barriers which modern life, with its sickly search for useless comfort, has set up between us and nature did not exist for these men, so full of youth and life, eager for wide spaces and the outer air. This is what gave St. Francis and his companions that quick susceptibility to Nature which made them thrill in mysterious harmony with her. Their communion with Nature was so intimate, so ardent, that Umbria, with the harmonious poetry of its skies, the joyful outburst of its spring-time, is still the best document from which to study them. The tie between the two is so indissoluble, that after having lived a certain time in company with St. Francis, one can hardly, on reading certain passages of his biographers, help seeing the spot where the inci- dent took place, hearing the vague sounds of creatures and things, precisely as, when reading certain pages of a beloved author, one hears the sound of his voice. The worship of Poverty of the early Franciscans had in it, then, nothing ascetic or barbarous, nothing which re- calls the Stylites or the Nazirs. She was their bride, and like true lovers they felt no fatigues which they might endure to find and remain near her. La lor concordia e lor lieti sembianti, Amor e maraviglia e dolce sguardo Faсean esser cagion de' pensier santi. To draw the portrait of an ideal knight at the begin- ning of the thirteenth century is to draw Francis's very portrait, with this difference, that what the knight did for 1 Their concord and their joyous semblances The love, the wonder and the sweet regard They made to be the cause of holy thought. DANTE : Paradiso, canto xi., verses 76-78. Longfellow's translation. 128 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS his lady, he did for Poverty. This comparison is not a mere caprice; he himself profoundly felt it and ex- pressed it with perfect clearness, and it is only by keep- ing it clearly present in the mind that we can see into the very depth of his heart.1 To find any other souls of the same nature one must come down to Giovanni di Parma and Jacoponi di Todi. The life of St. Francis as troubadour has been written; it would have been better to write it as knight, for this is the explanation of his whole life, and as it were the heart of his heart. From the day when, forgetting the songs of his friends and suddenly stopped in the public place of Assisi, he met Poverty, his bride, and swore to her faith and love, down to that evening when, naked upon the naked earth of Portiuncula, he breathed out his life, it may be said that all his thoughts went out to this lady of his chaste loves. For twenty years he served her with- out faltering, sometimes with an artlessness which would appear infantine, if something infinitely sincere and sub- lime did not arrest the smile upon the most sceptical lips. Poverty agreed marvellously with that need which men had at that time, and which perhaps they have lost less than they suppose, the need of an ideal very high, very pure, mysterious, inaccessible, which yet they may pict- ure to themselves in concrete form. Sometimes a few privileged disciples saw the lovely and pure Lady descend from heaven to salute her spouse, but, whether visible or not, she always kept close beside her Umbrian lover, as she kept close beside the Galilean; in the stable of the nativity, upon the cross at Golgotha, and even in the borrowed tomb where his body lay. During several years this ideal was not alone that of St. Francis, but also of all the Brothers. In pov- 1 Amor factus castis eam, stringit amplexibus nec ad horam patitur non esse maritus. 2 Cel., 3, 1; cf.1 Cel., 35 ; 51 ; 75; 2 Cel., 3, 128; 3 Soc., 15; 22 ; 33; 35; 50; Bon., 87; Fior. 13. PORTIUNOULA 129 erty the gente poverelle had found safety, love, liberty; and all the efforts of the new apostles are directed to the keeping of this precious treasure. Their worship sometimes might seem excessive. They showed their spouse those delicate attentions, those re- finements of courtesy so frequent in the morning light of a betrothal, but which one gradually forgets till they become incomprehensible.? The number of disciples continually increased ; almost every week brought new recruits; the year 1211 was without doubt devoted by Francis to a tour in Umbria and the neighboring provinces. His sermons were short appeals to conscience; his heart went out to his hearers in ineffable tones, so that when men tried to repeat what they had heard they found themselves incapable.? The Rule of 1221 has preserved for us a summary of these appeals: “Here is an exhortation which all the Brothers may make when they think best: Fear and honor God, praise and bless him. Give thanks unto bim. Adore the Lord, Almighty God, in Trinity and unity, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. Repent and make fruits meet for repentance, for you know that we shall soon die. Give, and it shall be given unto you. Forgive, and you shall be forgiven ; for if you forgive not, God will not forgive you. Blessed are they who die repenting, for they shall be in the kingdom of heaven. Ab- stain carefully from all evil, and persevere in the good until the end."' We see how simple and purely ethical was the early Franciscan preaching. The complications of dogma and scholasticism are entirely absent from it. To understand how new this was and how refreshing to the soul we must study the disciples that came after him. 1 Bon., 93.-Prohibuit fratrem qui faciebat coquinam ne poneret legu- mina de sero in aqua calida quæ debebat dare fratribus ad manducan- dum die sequenti ut observaverint illud verbum Evangelii : Nolite solliciti esse de crastino. Spec., 15. 22 Cel., 3, 50. 3 Cap., 21. Cf. Fior., I. consid. , 18; 30; Conform., 103a, 2; 2 Cel., 3, 99 ; 100; 121. Vide Müller, Anfänge, p. 187. 130 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS With St. Anthony of Padua (* June 13, 1231 ; canon. ized in 1233'), the most illustrious of them all, the descent is immense. The distance between these two men is as great as that which separates Jesus from St. Paul. I do not judge the disciple; he was of his time in not knowing how to say simply what he thought, in always desiring to subtilize it, to extract it from passages in the Bible turned from their natural meaning by efforts at once laborious and puerile; what the alchemists did in their continual making of strange mixtures from which they fancied that they should bring out gold, the preach- ers did to the texts, in order to bring out the truth. The originality of St. Francis is only the more brilliant and meritorious; with him gospel simplicity reappeared upon the earth. Like the lark with which he so much loved to compare himself, he was at his ease only in the open sky. He remained thus until his death. The epistle to all Christians which he dictated in the last weeks of his life repeats the same ideas in the same terms, perhaps with a little more feeling and a shade of sadness. The evening breeze which breathed upon his face and bore away his words was their symbolical ac- companiment. | Vide his Opera omnia postillis illustrata, by Father de la Haye, 1739, fº. For his life, Surius and Wadding arranged and mutilated the sources to which they had access; the Bollandists had only a legend of the fifteenth century. The Latin manuscript 14,363 of the Bibliothèque Nationale gives one which dates from the thirteenth. Very Rev. Father Hilary, of Paris : Saint Antoine de Padone, sa légende primitive, Mon- treuil-sur-Mer, Imprimerie Notre-Dame-des-Prés, 1890, 1 vol., 8vo. Cf. Legendu seul vita et miracula S. Antonii sæculo xiii concinnata er cod. memb. antonince bibliothecæ a P. M. Antonio Maria Josa min. comv, Bologna, 1883, 1 vol., 8vo. · This evangelical character of his mission is brought out in relief by all his biographers. 1 Cel. 56 ; 84; 89 ; 3 Soc. 25 ; 34; 40; 43 ; 45; 48; 51 ; 57; 2 Cel. 3, 8 ; 50 ; 93. Spec., 134; 2 Cel., 3, 128. 3 PORTIUNCULA 131 “I, Brother Francis, the least of your servants, pray and conjure you by that Love which is God himself, willing to throw myself at your feet and kiss them, to ive with humility and love these words and all others of our Lord Jesus Christ, to put them to profit and carry them out.” This was not a more or less oratorical formula. Hence conversions multiplied with an incredible rapidity. Often, as formerly with Jesus, a look, a word sufficed Francis to attach to himself men who would follow him until their death. It is impossible, alas ! to analyze the best of this eloquence, all made of love, intimate apprehension, and fire. The written word can no more give an idea of it than it can give us an idea of a sonata of Beethoven or a painting by Rembrandt. We are often amazed, on reading the memoirs of those who have been great con- querors of souls, to find ourselves remaining cold, finding in them all no trace of animation or originality. It is be- cause we have only a lifeless relic in the hand; the soul is gone. It is the white wafer of the sacrament, but how shall that rouse in us the emotions of the beloved dis- ciple lying on the Lord's breast on the night of the Last Supper? The class from which Francis recruited his disciples was still about the same; they were nearly all young men of Assisi and its environs, some the sons of agri- culturists, and others nobles; the School and the Church was very little represented among them.? The Order was at first essentially lay (at the present time it is, so far as I know, the only one in which there is no difference of costume be- tween laymen and priests). Vide Ehrle, Archiv., iii., p. 563. It is the influence of the friars from northern countries which has especially changed it in this matter. General Aymon, of Faversham (1240–1243), decided that laymen should be excluded from all charges ; laicos ad officia inhabilitavit, quce usque tunc ut clerici exercebant. (Chron. xxiv. gen. cod. Gadd. relig., 53, fº 110a). Among the early Brothers who 132 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS Everything still went on with an unheard-of simplic ity. In theory, obedience to the superior was absolute; in practice, we can see Francis continually giving his com- panions complete liberty of action.i Men entered the Order without a novitiate of any sort; it sufficed to say to Francis that they wanted to lead with him a life of evangelical perfection, and to prove it by giving all that they possessed to the poor. The more unpretending were the neophytes, the more tenderness he had for them. Like his Master, he had a partiality for those who were lost, for men whom regular society casts out of its limits, but who with all their crimes and scandals are nearer to sainthood than mediocrities and hypocrites. " Father,” he said, “I would gladly One day St. Francis, passing by the desert of Borgo San Sepolcro came to a place called Monte-Casale, ? and behold a noble and refined young man came to him. adly be one of your disciples.” 'My son,” said St. Francis, " you are young, refined, and noble; you will not be able to follow poverty and live wretched like us." “But, my father, are not you men like me ? What you do I can do with the grace of Jesus.” This reply was well-pleasing to St. Francis, who, giving him his blessing, incontinently received him into the Order under the name of Brother Angelo. He conducted himself so well that a little while after he was made refused ordination there were surely some who did so from humility, but this sentiment is not enough to explain all the cases. There were also with certain of them revolutionary desires and as it were a vagu. memory of the prophecies of Gioacchino di Fiore upon the age succeed ing that of the priests : Fior., 27. Frate Pellegrino non volle mas andare come chierico, ma come laico, benche fassi molto litterato e grande decretalista, Cf. Conform., 71 a., 2. Ar. Thomas Hibernicus sibi pollecem amputavit ne ad sacerdotium cogeretur. Conform., 124b, 2. See, for example, the letter to Brother Leo. Cf. Conform., 53b, 2. Fratri Egidio dedit licentiam liberam ut iret quocumque vellet et staret ubicumque sibi placeret. 2 The hermitage of Monte-Casale, at two hours walk northeast from Borgo San Sepolcro, still exists in its original state. It is one of the most significant and curious of the Franciscan deserts. PORTIUNCULA 133 guardian' of Monte-Casale. Now, in those times there were three famous robbers who did much evil in the country. They came to the hermitage one day to beg Brother Angelo to give them something to eat; but he replied to them with severe reproaches : What! robbers, evil-doers, assassins, have you not only no shame for stealing the goods of others, but you would farther devour the alms of the servants of God, you who are not worthy to live, and who have respect neither for men nor for God your Creator. Depart, and let me never see you here again ! They went away full of rage. But behold, the Saint returned, bring- ing a wallet of bread and a bottle of wine which had been given him, and the guardian told him how he had sent away the robbers; then St. Francis reproved him severely for showing himself so cruel. “I command thee by thine obedience," said he, to take at once this loaf and this wine and go seek the robbers by hill and dell until you have found them, to offer them this as from me, and to kneel there be- fore them and humbly ask their pardon, and pray them in my name no longer to do wrong but to fear God ; and if they do it, I promise to provide for all their wants, to see that they always have enough to eat and drink. After that you may humbly return hither." Brother Angelo did all that had been commanded him, while St. Francis on his part prayed God to convert the robbers. They returned with the brother, and when St. Francis gave them the assurance of the pardon of God, they changed their lives and entered the Order, in which they lived and died most holily.? . What has sometimes been said of the voice of the blood is still more true of the voice of the soul. When a man truly wakens another to moral life, he gains for him- self an unspeakable gratitude. The word master is often 1 The office of guardian (superior of a monastery) naturally dates from the time when the Brothers stationed themselves in small groups in the villages of Umbria--that is to say, most probably from the year 1211. A few years later the monasteries were united to form a custodian Finally, about 1215, Central Italy was divided unto a certain number of provinces with provincial ministers at their head. All this was done little by little, for Francis never permitted himself to regulate what did not yet exist. ? Fior., 26 ; Conform., 119b, 1. Cf. Rule of 1221, cap. vii. Quicumque ad eos (fratres) venerint, amicus vel adversarius, fur vel latro benigne recipiatur. 134 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS profaned, but it can express the noblest and purest of earthly ties. Who are those among us, who in the hours of manly innocence when they examine their own consciences, do not see rising up before them from out of the past the ever beloved and loving face of one who, perhaps without knowing it, initiated them into spiritual things ? At such a time we would throw ourselves at the feet of this father, would tell him in burning words of our ad- miration and gratitude. We cannot do it, for the soul has its own bashfulness; but who knows that our dis- quietude and embarrassment do not betray us, and un- veil, better than words could do, the depths of our heart? The air they breathed at Portiuncula was all impregnated with joy and gratitude like this. To many of the Brothers, St. Francis was truly a saviour; he had delivered them from chains heavier than those of prisons. And therefore their greatest desire was in their turn to call others to this same liberty. We have already seen Brother Bernardo on a mission to Florence a few months after his entrance into the Order. Arrived at maturity when he put on the habit, he appears in some degree the senior of this apostolic college. He knew how to obey St. Francis and remain faithful to the very end to the ideal of the early days; but he had no longer that privilege of the young-of Brother Leo, for example of being able to transform himself almost entirely into the image of him whom he admired. His physiognomy has not that touch of juve- nile originality, of poetic fancy, which is so great a charm of the others. Toward this epoch two Brothers entered the Order, men such as the successors of St. Francis never received, whose history throws a bright light on the simplicity of the early days. It will be remembered with what PORTIUNCULA 135 zeal Francis had repaired several churches; his solici- tude went further; he saw a sort of profanation in the negligence with which most of them were kept; the want of cleanliness of the sacred objects, ill-concealed by tinsel, gave him a sort of pain, and it often happened that when he was going to preach somewhere he secretly called together the priests of the locality and implored them to look after the decency of the service. But even in these cases he was not content to preach only in words; binding together some stalks of heather he would make them into brooms for sweeping out the churches. One day in the suburbs of Assisi he was performing this task when a peasant appeared, who had left his oxen and cart out in the fields while he came to gaze at him. " for a long Brother," said he on entering, “give me the broom. I will help you,” and he swept out the rest of the church. When he had finished, “Brother,” he said to Francis, time I have decided to serve God, especially when I heard men speak of you. But I never knew how to find you. Now it has pleased God that we should meet, and henceforth I shall do whatever you may please to command me." Francis seeing his fervor felt a great joy ; it seemed to him that with his simplicity and honesty he would become a good friar. It appears indeed that he had only too much simplic- ity, for after his reception he felt himself bound to imi- tate every motion of the master, and when the latter coughed, spat, or sighed, he did the same. At last Fran- cis noticed it and gently reproved him. Later he be- came so perfect that the other friars admired him greatly, and after his death, which took place not long after, St. Francis loved to relate his conversion, calling him not Brother John, but Brother St. John.1 Ginepro is still more celebrated for his holy follies. 12 Cel., 3, 120 ; Spec., 37 ; Conform., 538, 1. See below, p. 385, n. 1. ܪ 136 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS One day he went to see a sick Brother and offered him his services. The patient confessed that he had a great longing to eat a pig's foot; the visitor immediately rushed out, and armed with a knife ran to the neighbor- ing forest, where, espying a troop of pigs, he cut off a foot of one of them, returning to the monastery full of pride over his trophy. The owner of the pigs shortly followed, howling like mad, but Ginepro went straight to him and pointed out with so much volubility that he had done him a great service, that the man, after overwhelming him with re- proaches, suddenly begged pardon, killed the pig and in- vited all the Brothers to feast upon it. Ginepro was probably less mad than the story would lead us to sup- pose; Franciscan humility never had a more sincere dis- ciple; he could not endure the tokens of admiration which the populace very early lavished on the growing Order, and which by their extravagance contributed so much to its decadence. One day, as he was entering Rome, the report of his arrival spread abroad, and a great crowd came out to meet him. To escape was impossible, but he suddenly had an inspiration ; near the gate of the city some chil- dren were playing at see-saw; to the great amazement of the Romans Ginepro joined them, and, without heed- ing the salutations addressed to him, remained so ab- sorbed in his play that at last his indignant admirers departed. It is clear that the life at Portiuncula must have been very different from that of an ordinary convent. So much youth, simplicity, love, quickly drew the eyes of men toward it. From all sides they were turned to those thatched huts, where dwelt a spiritual family | Fior., Vita di fra Ginepro ; Spec., 174–182 ; Conform. 62b. * A. SS., p. 600. PORTIUNCULA 137 1 whose members loved one another more than men lovo on earth, leading a life of labor, mirth, and devotion. The humble chapel seemed a new Zion destined to en- lighten the world, and many in their dreams beheld blind humanity coming to kneel there and recover sight. Among the first disciples who joined themselves to St. Francis we must mention Brother Silvestro, the first priest who entered the Order, the very same whom we have already seen the day that Bernardo di Quintevalle distributed his goods among the poor. Since then he had not had a moment's peace, bitterly reproaching himself for his avarice; night and day he thought only of that, and in his dreams he saw Francis exorcising a horrid monster which infested all the region.? By his age and the nature of the memory he has left behind him Silvestro resembles Brother Bernardo. He was what is usually understood by a holy priest, but nothing denotes that he had the truly Franciscan love of great enterprises, distant journeys, perilous missions. Withdrawn into one of the grottos of the Carceri, ab- sorbed in the contemplative life, he gave spiritual coun- sels to his brethren as occasion served. The typical Franciscan priest is Brother Leo. The date of his entrance into the Order is not exactly known, but we are probably not far from the truth in placing it about 1214. Of a charming simplicity, tender, affec- tionate, refined, he is, with Brother Elias, the one who plays the noblest part during the obscure years in which the new reform was being elaborated. Becoming Fran- cis's confessor and secretary, treated by him as his 3 1 3 Soc., 56 ; 2 Cel., 1, 13; Bon., 24. ? Bon., 30; 3 Soc., 30, 31 ; 2 Cel., 3, 52. Cf. Fior., 2. The dragon of this dream perhaps symbolizes heresy. Bon., 83 ; 172 ; Fior., 1, 16 ; Conform., 49a, 1, and 110b, 1 ; 2 Cel., 3, 51. 3 138 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS favorite son, he excited much opposition, and was to the end of his long life the head of the strict observance. Messiaen St Françar fo One winter's day, St. Francis was going with Brother Leo from Pe- rugia to Santa Maria degli Angeli, and the cold, being intense, made them shiver ; he called Brother Leo, who was walking a little in advance, and said : “O Brother Leo, may it please God that the Brothers Minor all over the world may give a great example of holiness and edification ; write, however, and note with care, that not in this is the perfect joy." St. Francis, going on a little farther, called him a second time : “O Brother Leo, if the Brothers Minor gave sight to the blind, healed the infirm, cast out demons, gave hearing to the deaf, or even what is much more, if they raised the four days dead, write that not in this is the perfect joy." Going on a little farther he cried : "O Brother Leo, if the Brother Minor knew all languages, all science, and all scriptures, if he could prophesy and reveal not only future things but even the secrets of con- sciences and of souls, write that not in this consists the perfect joy." Going a little farther St. Francis called to him again : “ O Brother Leo, little sheep of God, if the Brother Minor could speak the language of angels, if he knew the courses of the stars and the virtues of plants, if all the treasures of earth were revealed to him, and he knew the qualities of birds, fishes, and all animals, of men, trees, rocks, roots, and waters, write that not in these is the perfect joy." And advancing still a little farther St. Francis called loudly to him : “O Brother Leo, if the Brother Minor could preach so well as to con- vert all infidels to the faith of Christ, write that not in this is the per- fect joy." While speaking thus they had already gone more than two miles, and Brother Leo, full of surprise, said to him : Father, I pray you in God's name tell me in what consists the perfect joy." And St. Francis replied : “When we arrive at Santa Maria degli An- geli, soaked with rain, frozen with cold, covered with mud, dying of hunger, and we knock and the porter comes in a rage, saying, 'Who are you?' and we answer, We are two of your brethren,' and he says, 'You lie, you are two lewd fellows who go up and down corrupting the world and stealing the alms of the poor. Go away from here!' and he does not open to us, but leaves us outside shivering in the snow and rain, frozen, starved, till night; then, if thus maltreated and turned away, we patiently endure all without murmuring against him, if we Bernard de Besse, De laudibus, Turin MS., fº. 102b and 96a. He died November 15, 1271. A. SS., Augusti, t. ii., p. 221. PORTIUNCULA 135 think with humility and charity that this porter really knows us truly and that God makes him speak thus to us, then, O Brother Leo, write that in this is the perfect joy. Above all the graces and all the gifts which the Holy Spirit gives to his friends is the grace to conquer oneself, and willingly to suffer pain, outrages, disgrace, and evil treatment, for the love of Christ!” Although by its slight and somewhat playful character this story recalls the insipid statues of the fourteenth century, it has justly become celebrated, its spirit is thoroughly Franciscan; that transcendent idealism, which sees in perfection and joy two equivalent terms, and places perfect joy in the pure and serene region of the perfecting of oneself; that sublime simplicity which so easily puts in their true place the miracle-worker and the scholar, these are perhaps not entirely new ;? but St. Francis must have had singular moral strength to impose upon his contemporaries ideas in such absolute contra- diction to their habits and their hopes; for the intellect- ual aristocracy of the thirteenth century with one accord found the perfect joy in knowledge, while the people found it in miracles. Doubtless we must not forget those great mystical fam- ilies, which, all through the Middle Ages, were the refuge of the noblest souls; but they never had this fine simplic- ity. The School is always more or less the gateway to mysticism; it is possible only to an elect of subtile minds; a pious peasant seldom understands the Imitation. It may be said that all St. Francis's philosophy is con- tained in this chapter of the Fioretti.3 From it we foresee what will be his attitude toward learning, and are helped '1 Fior, 8 ; Spec., 89b ff.; Conform., 30b, 2, and 140a, 2. -9-I need not here point out the analogy in form between this chapter and St. Paul's celebrated song of love, 1 Cor. xiii. 3 We find the same thoughts in nearly the same terms in cap. v. of the Verba sacrae admonitionis. 140 LIFE OF ST. FRANCIS 1 to understand how it happens that this famous saint was so poor a miracle-worker. Twelve centuries before, Jesus had said, "Blessed are the poor in spirit. Blessed are they who suffer.” The words of St. Francis are only a commentary, but this commentary is worthy of the text. It remains to say a word concerning two disciples who were always closely united with Brother Leo in the Fran- ciscan memorials-Rufino and Masseo. Born of a noble family connected with that of St. Clara, the former was soon distinguished in the Order for his visions and ecstasies, but his great timidity checked him as soon as he tried to preach: for this reason he is always to be found in the most isolated hermitages--Car- ceri, Verna, Greccio. Masseo, of Marignano, a small village in the environs of Assisi, was his very opposite; handsome, well made, witty, he attracted attention by his fine presence and his great facility of speech; he occupies a special place in popular Franciscan tradition. He deserves it. St. Fran- cis, to test his humility, made him the porter and cook of the hermitage, but in these functions Masseo showed himself to be so perfectly a Minor that from that time the master particularly loved to have him for companion in his missionary journeys. One day they were travelling together, when they ar- rived at the intersection of the roads to Sienna, Arezzo, and Florence. " Which one shall we take ?” asked Masseo. " Whichever one God wills." · He is the second of the Three Companions. 3 Soc., 1; cf. 1 Cel., 95; Fior., 1; 29, 30, 31 ; Eccleston, 12; Spec., 1104-114b ; Conform., 51b ff. ; cf. 2 Cel., 2, 4. Very probably that of the Carceri, though the name is not indicated. Vide 3 Soc., 1; Fior., 4; 10 ; 11; 12; 13; 16; 27; 32 ; Conform., 51b, 1ff ; Tribul. Archiv., t. ii., p. 263. PORTIUNCULA 141