CHAPTER XVII
THE CANTICLE OF THE SUN
Autumn, 1224-Autumn, 1225
The morning after St. Michael's Day (September 30, 1224) Francis quitted
Verna and went to Portiuncula. He was too much exhausted to think of
making the journey on foot, and Count Orlando put a horse at his
disposal.
We can imagine the emotion with which he bade adieu to the mountain on
which had been unfolded the drama of love and pain which had consummated
the union of his entire being with the Crucified One.
Amor, amor, Gesu desideroso,
Amor voglio morire,
Te abrazando
Amor, dolce Gesu, meo sposo,
Amor, amor, la morte te domando,
Amor, amor, Gesu si pietoso
Tu me te dai in te transformato
Pensa ch'io vo spasmando
Non so o io me sia
Gesu speranza mia
Ormai va, dormi in amore.
So sang Giacopone dei Todi in the raptures of a like love.[1]
If we are to believe a recently published document,[2] Brother Masseo,
one of those who remained on the Verna, made a written account of the
events of this day.
They set out early in the morning. Francis, after having given his
directions to the Brothers, had had a look and a word for everything
around; for the rocks, the flowers, the trees, for brother hawk, a
privileged character which was authorized to enter his cell at all
times, and which came every morning, with the first glimmer of dawn, to
remind him of the hour of service.[3]
Then the little band set forth upon the path leading to
Monte-Acuto.[4] Arrived at the gap from whence one gets the last sight
of the Verna, Francis alighted from his horse, and kneeling upon the
earth, his face turned toward the mountain, "Adieu," he said, "mountain
of God, sacred mountain, _mons coagulatus, mons pinguis, mons in quo
bene placitum est Deo habitare_; adieu Monte-Verna, may God bless thee,
the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; abide in peace; we shall never
see one another more."
Has not this artless scene a delicious and poignant sweetness? He must
surely have uttered these words, in which suddenly the Italian does not
suffice and Francis is obliged to resort to the mystical language of
the breviary to express his feelings.
A few minutes later the rock of the ecstacy had disappeared. The descent
into the valley is rapid. The Brothers had decided to spend the night at
Monte-Casale, the little hermitage above Borgo San-Sepolcro. All of
them, even those who were to remain on the Verna, were still following
their master. As for him, absorbed in thought he had become entirely
oblivious to what was going on, and did not even perceive the noisy
enthusiasm which his passage aroused in the numerous villages along the
Tiber.
At Borgo San-Sepolcro he received a real ovation without even then
coming to himself; but when they had some time quitted the town, he
seemed suddenly to awake, and asked his companion if they ought not soon
to arrive there.[5]
The first evening at Monte Casale was marked by a miracle. Francis
healed a friar who was possessed.[6] The next morning, having decided
to pass several days in this hermitage, he sent the brothers back to the
Verna, and with them Count Orlando's horse.
In one of the villages through which they had passed the day before a
woman had been lying several days between death and life unable to give
birth to her child. Those about her had only learned of the passage of
the saint through their village when he was too far distant to be
overtaken. We may judge of the joy of these poor people when the rumor
was spread that he was about to return. They went to meet him, and were
terribly disappointed on finding only the friars. Suddenly an idea
occurred to them: taking the bridle of the horse consecrated by the
touch of Francis's hands, they carried it to the sufferer, who, having
laid it upon her body, gave birth to her child without the slightest
pain.[7]
This miracle, established by narratives entirely authentic, shows the
degree of enthusiasm felt by the people for the person of Francis. As
for him, after a few days at Monte-Casale, he set out with Brother Leo
for Città di Castello. He there healed a woman suffering from frightful
nervous disorders, and remained an entire month preaching in this city
and its environs. When he once more set forth winter had almost closed
in. A peasant lent him his ass, but the roads were so bad that they were
unable to reach any sort of shelter before nightfall. The unhappy
travellers were obliged to pass the night under a rock; the shelter was
more than rudimentary, the wind drifted the snow in upon them, and
nearly froze the unlucky peasant, who with abominable oaths heaped
curses on Francis; but the latter replied with such cheerfulness that he
made him at last forget both the cold and his bad humor.
On the morrow the saint reached Portiuncula. He seems to have made only
a brief halt there, and to have set forth again almost immediately to
evangelize Southern Umbria.
It is impossible to follow him in this mission. Brother Elias
accompanied him, but so feeble was he that Elias could not conceal his
uneasiness as to his life.[8]
Ever since his return from Syria (August, 1220), he had been growing
continually weaker, but his fervor had increased from day to day.
Nothing could check him, neither suffering nor the entreaties of the
Brothers; seated on an ass he would sometimes go over three or four
villages in one day. Such excessive toil brought on an infirmity even
more painful than any he had hitherto suffered from: he was threatened
with loss of sight.[9]
Meanwhile a sedition had forced Honorius III. to leave Rome (end of
April, 1225). After passing a few weeks at Tivoli, he established
himself at Rieti, where he remained until the end of 1226.[10]
The pope's arrival had drawn to this city, with the entire pontifical
court, several physicians of renown; Cardinal Ugolini, who had come in
the pope's train, hearing of Francis's malady, summoned him to Rieti for
treatment. But notwithstanding Brother Elias's entreaties Francis
hesitated a long time as to accepting the invitation.[11] It seemed to
him that a sick man has but one thing to do; place himself purely and
simply in the hands of the heavenly Father. What is pain to a soul that
is fixed in God![12]
Elias, however, at last overcame his objections, and the journey was
determined upon, but first Francis desired to go and take leave of
Clara, and enjoy a little rest near her.
He remained at St. Damian much longer than he had proposed to do[13]
(end of July to beginning of September, 1225). His arrival at this
beloved monastery was marked by a terrible aggravation of his malady.
For fifteen days he was so completely blind that he could not even
distinguish light. The care lavished upon him produced no result, since
every day he passed long hours in weeping--tears of penitence, he said,
but also of regret.[14] Ah, how different they were from those tears
of his moments of inspiration and emotion, which had flowed over a
countenance all illumined with joy! They had seen him, in such moments,
take up two bits of wood, and, accompanying himself with this rustic
violin, improvise French songs in which he would pour out the abundance
of his heart.[15]
But the radiance of genius and hope had become dimmed. Rachel weeps for
her children, and will not be comforted because they are not. There are
in the tears of Francis this same _quia non sunt_ for his spiritual
sons.
But if there are irremediable pains there are none which may not be at
once elevated and softened, when we endure them at the side of those who
love us.
In this respect his companions could not be of much help to him. Moral
consolations are possible only from our peers, or when two hearts are
united by a mystical passion so great that they mingle and understand
one another.
"Ah, if the Brothers knew what I suffer," St. Francis said a few days
before the impression of the stigmata, "with what pity and compassion
they would be moved!"
But they, seeing him who had laid cheerfulness upon them as a duty
becoming more and more sad and keeping aloof from them, imagined that he
was tortured with temptations of the devil.[16]
Clara divined that which could not be uttered. At St. Damian her friend
was looking back over all the past: what memories lived again in a
single glance! Here, the olive-tree to which, a brilliant cavalier, he
had fastened his horse; there, the stone bench where his friend, the
priest of the poor chapel, used to sit; yonder, the hiding-place in
which he had taken refuge from the paternal wrath, and, above all, the
sanctuary with the mysterious crucifix of the decisive hour.
In living over these pictures of the radiant past, Francis aggravated
his pain; yet they spoke to him of other things than death and regret.
Clara was there, as steadfast, as ardent as ever. Long ago transformed
by admiration, she was now transfigured by compassion. Seated at the
feet of him whom she loved with more than earthly love she felt the
soreness of his soul, and the failing of his heart. After that, what did
it matter that Francis's tears became more abundant to the point of
making him blind for a fortnight? Soothing would come; the sister of
consolation would give him peace once more.
And first she kept him near her, and, herself taking part in the labor,
she made him a large cell of reeds in the monastery garden, that he
might be entirely at liberty as to his movements.
How could he refuse a hospitality so thoroughly Franciscan? It was
indeed only too much so: legions of rats and mice infested this retired
spot; at night they ran over Francis's bed with an infernal uproar, so
that he could find no repose from his sufferings. But he soon forgot all
that when near his sister-friend. Once again she gave back to him faith
and courage. "A single sunbeam," he used to say, "is enough to drive
away many shadows!"
Little by little the man of the former days began to show himself, and
at times the Sisters would hear, mingling with the murmur of the olive
trees and pines, the echo of unfamiliar songs, which seemed to come from
the cell of reeds.
One day he had seated himself at the monastery table after a long
conversation with Clara. The meal had hardly begun when suddenly he
seemed to be rapt away in ecstasy.
"_Laudato sia lo Signore!_" he cried on coming to himself. He had just
composed the Canticle of the Sun.[17]
TEXT[18]
INCIPIUNT LAUDES CREATURARUM
QUAS FECIT BEATUS FRANCISCUS AD LAUDEM ET HONOREM
DEI
CUM ESSET INFIRMUS AD SANCTUM DAMIANUM.
ALTISSIMU, onnipotente, bon signore,
tue so le laude la gloria e l'onore et onne benedictione.
Ad te sole, altissimo, se konfano
et nullu homo ene dignu te mentovare.
Laudato sie, mi signore, cum tucte le tue creature
spetialmente messor lo frate sole,
lo quale jorna, et illumini per lui;
Et ellu è bellu e radiante cum grande splendore;
de te, altissimo, porta significatione.
Laudato si, mi signore, per sora luna e le stelle,
in celu l' ài formate clarite et pretiose et belle.
Laudato si, mi signore, per frate vento
et per aere et nubilo et sereno et onne tempo,
per le quale a le tue creature dai sustentamento.
Laudato si, mi signore, per sor acqua,
la quale è multo utile et humele et pretiosa et casta.
Laudato si, mi signore, per frate focu,
per lo quale ennallumini la nocte,
ed ello è bello et jucundo et robustoso et forte.
Laudato si, mi signore, per sora nostra matre terra,
la quale ne sustenta et governa
et produce diversi fructi con colorite flori et herba.
Laudato si, mi signore, per quilli ke perdonano per lo tuo amore
et sosteugo infirmitate et tribulatione,
beati quilli ke sosterrano in pace,
ka da te, altissimo, sirano incoronati.
Laudato si, mi signore, per sora nostra morte corporale,
de la quale nullu homo vivente po skappare:
guai a quilli ke morrano ne le peccata mortali;
beati quilli ke se trovarà ne le tue sanctissime voluntati,
ka la morte secunda nol farrà male.
Laudate et benedicete mi signore et rengratiate
et serviteli cum grande humilitate.
TRANSLATION.[19]
O most high, almighty, good Lord God, to thee belong praise,
glory, honor, and all blessing! {To thee alone, Most High, do
they belong, and no mortal lips are worthy to pronounce thy
Name.}
Praised be my Lord God with all his creatures, and specially our
brother the sun, who brings us the day and who brings us the
light; fair is he and shines with a very great splendor: O Lord,
he signifies to us thee!
Praised be my Lord for our sister the moon, and for the stars,
the which he has set clear and lovely in heaven.
Praised be my Lord for our brother the wind, and for air and
cloud, calms and all weather by the which thou upholdest life in
all creatures.
Praised be my Lord for our sister water, who is very serviceable
unto us and humble and precious and clean.
Praised be my Lord for our brother fire, through whom thou
givest us light in the darkness; and he is bright and pleasant
and very mighty and strong.
Praised be my Lord for our mother the earth, the which doth
sustain us and keep us, and bringeth forth divers fruits and
flowers of many colors, and grass.
Praised be my Lord for all those who pardon one another for his
love's sake, and who endure weakness and tribulation; blessed
are they who peaceably shall endure, for thou, O most Highest,
shalt give them a crown.
Praised be my Lord for our sister, the death of the body, from
which no man escapeth. Woe to him who dieth in mortal sin!
Blessed are they who are found walking by thy most holy will,
for the second death shall have no power to do them harm.
Praise ye and bless the Lord, and give thanks unto him and serve
him with great humility.
Joy had returned to Francis, joy as deep as ever. For a whole week he
forsook his breviary and passed his days in repeating the Canticle of
the Sun.
During a night of sleeplessness he had heard a voice saying to him, "If
thou hadst faith as a grain of mustard seed, thou wouldst say to this
mountain, 'Be thou removed from there,' and it would move away." Was not
the mountain that of his sufferings, the temptation to murmur and
despair? "Be it, Lord, according to thy word," he had replied with all
his heart, and immediately he had felt that he was delivered.[20]
He might have perceived that the mountain had not greatly changed its
place, but for several days he had turned his eyes away from it, he had
been able to forget its existence.
For a moment he thought of summoning to his side Brother Pacifico, the
King of Verse, to retouch his canticle; his idea was to attach to him a
certain number of friars, who would go with him from village to village,
preaching. After the sermon they would sing the Hymn of the Sun; and
they were to close by saying to the crowd gathered around them in the
public places, "We are God's jugglers. We desire to be paid for our
sermon and our song. Our payment shall be that you persevere in
penitence."[21]
"Is it not in fact true," he would add, "that the servants of God are
really like jugglers, intended to revive the hearts of men and lead them
into spiritual joy?"
The Francis of the old raptures had come back, the layman, the poet, the
artist.
The Canticle of the Creatures is very noble: it lacks, however, one
strophe; if it was not upon Francis's lips, it was surely in his heart:
Be praised, Lord, for Sister Clara; thou hast made her silent,
active, and sagacious, and by her thy light shines in our
hearts.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] Thirty-sixth and last strophe of the song
_Amor de caritade
Perche m' hai si ferito?_
found in the collection of St. Francis's works.
[2] By the Abbé Amoni, at the close of his edition of the Fioretti,
Rome, 1 vol., 12mo, 1889, pp. 390-392. We can but once more
regret the silence of the editor as to the manuscript whence
he has drawn these charming pages. Certain indications seem
unfavorable to the author having written it before the second
half of the thirteenth century; on the other hand, the object
of a forgery is not evident. An apochryphal piece always
betrays itself by some interested purpose, but here the story
is of an infantine simplicity.
[3] 2 Cel., 3, 104; Bon., 119; _Fior. ii. consid._
[4] _Parti san Francesco per Monte-Acuto prendendo la via di
Monte-Arcoppe e del foresto._ This road from the Verna to Borgo
San-Sepolero is far from being the shortest or the easiest, for
instead of leading directly to the plain it lingers for long
hours among the hills. Is not all Francis in this choice?
[5] 2 Cel., 3, 41; Bon., 141; _Fior. iv. consid._
[6] 1 Cel., 63 and 64; _Fior. iv. consid._
[7] 1 Cel., 70; _Fior. iv. consid._
[8] 1 Cel., 109; 69; Bon. 208. Perhaps we must refer to this
circuit the visit to Celano. 2 Cel., 3, 30; _Spec._, 22; Bon.,
156 and 157.
[9] 1 Cel., 97 and 98; 2 Cel., 3, 137; Bon., 205 and 206.
[10] Richard of St. Germano, _ann. 1225_. Cf. Potthast, 7400 ff.
[11] 1 Cel., 98 and 99; 2 Cel., 3, 137; _Fior._, 19.
[12] 2 Cel., 3, 110; Rule of 1221, _cap._ 10.
[13] See the reference to the sources after the Canticle of the
Sun.
[14] 2 Cel., 3, 138.
[15] This incident appeared to the authors so peculiar that they
emphasized it with an _ut oculis videmus_. 2 Cel., 3, 67;
_Spec._, 119a.
[16] _Spec._, 123a; 2 Cel., 3, 58.
[17] I have combined Celano's narrative with that of the
Conformities. The details given in the latter document appear to
me entirely worthy of faith. It is easy to see, however, why
Celano omitted them, and it would be difficult to explain how
they could have been later invented. 2 Cel., 3, 138; _Conform._,
42b, 2; 119b, 1; 184b, 2; 239a, 2; _Spec._, 123a ff.; _Fior._,
19.
[18] After the Assisan MS., 338, f^o 33a. Vide p. 354. Father
Panfilo da Magliano has already published it after this
manuscript: _Storia compendiosa di San Francesco_, Rome, 2
vols., 18mo, 1874-1876. The Conformities, 202b, 2-203a 1, give a
version of it which differs from this only by insignificant
variations. The learned philologue Monaci has established a very
remarkable critical text in his _Crestomazia italiana dei primi
secoli_. Citta di Castello, fas. i., 1889, 8vo, pp. 29-31. This
thoroughly scrupulous work dispenses me from indicating
manuscripts and editions more at length.
[19] Matthew Arnold, Essays in Criticism, First Series.
Macmillan & Company, 1883.
[20] 2 Cel., 3, 58; _Spec._, 123a.
[21] _Spec._, 124a. Cf. _Miscellanea_ (1889), iv., p. 88.
* * * * *