CHAPTER VIII

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

immediately arose and departed, followed by his companions.

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.[2]

Francis was enchanted; he saw a mysterious harmony, 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 canticle 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

together._"

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.[3] It would be a gross mistake, however,

to suppose that contemplation absorbed them completely during 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 misapprehended 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 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 exception 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 resorted 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 opposite 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.[4]

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.[5] Nothing in this matter better shows the intentions of the

Poverello than the life of Brother Egidio, one of his dearest

companions, 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: "_Alla 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 religious 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 himself

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 itself 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 he

consents to remain with Cardinal Nicholas, bringing to every meal the

bread which he had earned, notwithstanding 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 cardinal's table.[6]

From the very beginning Egidio's life commanded respect; it was at once

so original, so gay, so spiritual,[7] 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.[8] Brother Ginepro, 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 destined 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 above 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, 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 troubles 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

periodical 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 devotees; 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 enjoys. 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?[9]

Poverty not only permitted the Brothers to mingle with the poor and

speak to them with authority, but, removing from them all material

anxiety, it left them free to 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

incident 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 recalls 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

Facean esser cagion de' pensier santi.[10]

To draw the portrait of an ideal knight at the beginning of the

thirteenth century is to draw Francis's very portrait, with this

difference, that what the knight did for his lady, he did for Poverty.

This comparison is not a mere caprice; he himself profoundly felt it and

expressed it with perfect clearness, and it is only by keeping it

clearly present in the mind that we can see into the very depth of his

heart.[11]

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 without faltering,

sometimes with an artlessness which would appear infantine, if something

infinitely sincere and sublime 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

picture 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 poverty 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 refinements of courtesy so frequent in

the morning light of a betrothal, but which one gradually forgets till

they become incomprehensible.[12]

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.[13] 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 him. 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.... Abstain carefully from all evil, and

persevere in the good until the end."[14]

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.

With St. Anthony of Padua ([Cross] June 13, 1231; canonized in 1233[15]),

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 preachers 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.[16]

Like the lark with which he so much loved to compare himself,[17] 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

accompaniment.

"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 receive 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 conquerors

of souls, to find ourselves remaining cold, finding in them all no trace

of animation or originality. It is because 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 disciple

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 agriculturists, and others nobles; the School and the Church

was very little represented among them.[18]

Everything still went on with an unheard-of simplicity. In theory,

obedience to the superior was absolute; in practice, we can see Francis

continually giving his companions complete liberty of action.[19] 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.

One day St. Francis, passing by the desert of Borgo San Sepolcro

came to a place called Monte-Casale,[20] and behold a noble and

refined young man came to him. "Father," he said, "I would

gladly 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 guardian[21] 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,

bringing 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 before 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.[22]

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 himself an unspeakable gratitude. The word _master_

is often 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 admiration and gratitude. We cannot do it, for the

soul has its own bashfulness; but who knows that our disquietude and

embarrassment do not betray us, and unveil, 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 juvenile 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 zeal Francis had repaired several churches; his solicitude 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.

"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, "for a long

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 simplicity, for after his

reception he felt himself bound to imitate every motion of the master,

and when the latter coughed, spat, or sighed, he did the same. At last

Francis noticed it and gently reproved him. Later he became 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.[23]

Ginepro is still more celebrated for his holy follies.

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

neighboring 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

reproaches, suddenly begged pardon, killed the pig and invited all the

Brothers to feast upon it. Ginepro was probably less mad than the story

would lead us to suppose; Franciscan humility never had a more sincere

disciple; 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 children were playing at see-saw; to the great amazement of

the Romans Ginepro joined them, and, without heeding the salutations

addressed to him, remained so absorbed in his play that at last his

indignant admirers departed.[24]

It is clear that the life at Portiuncula must have been very different

from that of an ordinary convent. So much youth,[25] 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 whose members

loved one another more than men love on earth, leading a life of labor,

mirth, and devotion. The humble chapel seemed a new Zion destined to

enlighten the world, and many in their dreams beheld blind humanity

coming to kneel there and recover sight.[26]

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.[27]

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, absorbed in the contemplative life,

he gave spiritual counsels to his brethren as occasion served.[28]

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,

affectionate, 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 Francis's confessor and secretary, treated by him

as his favorite son, he excited much opposition, and was to the end of

his long life the head of the strict observance.[29]

One winter's day, St. Francis was going with Brother Leo from

Perugia 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 consciences 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 convert all infidels to the faith of Christ, write

that not in this is the perfect 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

Angeli, 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 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!"[30]

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;[31] but St. Francis must have had singular moral strength to

impose upon his contemporaries ideas in such absolute contradiction to

their habits and their hopes; for the intellectual 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 families, which, all

through the Middle Ages, were the refuge of the noblest souls; but they

never had this fine simplicity. 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 contained in this

chapter of the Fioretti.[32] From it we foresee what will be his

attitude toward learning, and are helped 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 Franciscan 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--Carceri,

Verna, Greccio.[33]

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. Francis, to

test his humility, made him the porter and cook of the hermitage,[34]

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 arrived at the

intersection of the roads to Sienna, Arezzo, and Florence.

"Which one shall we take?" asked Masseo.

"Whichever one God wills."

"But how shall we know which one God wills?"

"You shall see. Go and stand at the crossing of the roads, turn round

and round as the children do, and do not stop until I bid you."

Brother Masseo began to turn; seized with a vertigo, he was nearly

falling, but caught himself up at once. Finally Francis called out,

"Stop! which way are you facing?"

"Toward Sienna."

"Very well; God wills that we go to Sienna."[35]

Such a method of making up one's mind is doubtless not for the daily

needs of life, but Francis employed still others, like it, if not in

form at least in fact.

Up to this time we have seen the brethren living together in their

hermitages or roving the highways, preaching repentance. It would,

however, be a mistake to think that their whole lives were passed thus.

To understand the first Franciscans we must absolutely forget what they

may have been since that time, and what monks are in general; if

Portiuncula was a monastery it was also a workshop, where each brother

practised the trade which had been his before entering the Order; but

what is stranger still to our ideas, the Brothers often went out as

servants.[36]

Brother Egidio's case was not an exception, it was the rule. This did

not last long, for very soon the friars who entered a house as domestics

came to be treated as distinguished guests; but in the beginning they

were literally servants, and took upon themselves the most menial

labors. Among the works which they might undertake Francis recommended

above all the care of lepers. We have already seen the important part

which these unfortunates played in his conversion; he always retained

for them a peculiar pity, which he sought to make his disciples share.

For several years the Brothers Minor may be said to have gone from

lazaretto to lazaretto, preaching by day in the towns and villages, and

retiring at night to these refuges, where they rendered to these

_patients of God_ the most repugnant services.

The Crucigeri, who took charge of the greater number of leper-houses,

always welcomed these kindly disposed aides, who, far from asking any

sort of recompense, were willing to eat whatever the patients might have

left.[37] In fact, although created solely for the care of lepers, the

Brothers of this Order sometimes lost patience when the sufferers were

too exacting, and instead of being grateful had only murmurs or even

reproaches for their benefactors. In these desperate cases the

intervention of Francis and his disciples was especially precious. It

often happened that a Brother was put in special charge of a single

leper, whose companion and servant he continued to be, sometimes for a

long period.[38]

The following narrative shows Francis's love for these unfortunates, and

his method with them.[39]

It happened one time that the Brothers were serving the lepers

and the sick in a hospital, near to the place where St. Francis

was. Among them was a leper who was so impatient, so

cross-grained, so unendurable, that everyone believed him to be

possessed by the devil, and rightly enough, for he heaped

insults and blows upon those who waited upon him, and what was

worse, he continually insulted and blasphemed the blessed Christ

and his most holy Mother the Virgin Mary, so that there was no

longer anyone who could or would wait upon him. The Brothers

would willingly have endured the insults and abuse which he

lavished upon them, in order to augment the merit of their

patience, but their souls could not consent to hear those which

he uttered against Christ and his Mother. They therefore

resolved to abandon this leper, but not without having told the

whole story exactly to St. Francis, who at that time was

dwelling not far away.

When they told him St. Francis betook himself to the wicked

leper; "May God give thee peace, my most dear brother," he said

to him as he drew near.

"And what peace," asked the leper, "can I receive from God, who

has taken away my peace and every good thing, and has made my

body a mass of stinking and corruption?"

St. Francis said to him: "My brother, be patient, for God gives

us diseases in this world for the salvation of our souls, and

when we endure them patiently they are the fountain of great

merit to us."

"How can I endure patiently continual pains which torture me day

and night? And it is not only my disease that I suffer from, but

the friars that you gave me to wait upon me are unendurable, and

do not take care of me as they ought."

Then St. Francis perceived that this leper was possessed by the

spirit of evil, and he betook himself to his knees in order to

pray for him. Then returning he said to him: "My son, since you

are not satisfied with the others, I will wait upon you."

"That is all very well, but what can you do for me more than

they?"

"I will do whatever you wish."

"Very well; I wish you to wash me from head to foot, for I smell

so badly that I disgust myself."

Then St. Francis made haste to heat some water with many

sweet-smelling herbs; next he took off the leper's clothes and

began to bathe him, while a Brother poured out the water. And

behold, by a divine miracle, wherever St. Francis touched him

with his holy hands the leprosy disappeared and the flesh became

perfectly sound. And in proportion as the flesh was healed the

soul of the wretched man was also healed, and he began to feel a

lively sorrow for his sins, and to weep bitterly.... And being

completely healed both in body and soul, he cried with all his

might: "Woe unto me, for I have deserved hell for the abuses and

outrages which I have said and done to the Brothers, for my

impatience and my blasphemies."

One day, Brother John, whose simplicity we have already seen, and who

had been especially put in charge of a certain leper, took him for a

walk to Portiuncula, as if he had not been the victim of a contagious

malady. Reproaches were not spared him; the leper heard them and could

not hide his sadness and distress; it seemed to him like being a second

time banished from the world. Francis was quick to remark all this and

to feel sharp remorse for it; the thought of having saddened one of

_God's patients_ was unendurable; he not only begged his pardon, but he

caused food to be served, and sitting down beside him he shared his

repast, eating from the same porringer.[40] We see with what

perseverance he pursued by every means the realization of his ideal.

The details just given show the Umbrian movement, as it appears to me,

to be one of the most humble and at the same time the most sincere and

practical attempts to realize the kingdom of God on earth. How far

removed we are here from the superstitious vulgarity of the mechanical

devotion, the deceitful miracle-working of certain Catholics; how far

also from the commonplace, complacent, quibbling, theorizing

Christianity of certain Protestants!

Francis is of the race of mystics, for no intermediary comes between God

and his soul; but his mysticism is that of Jesus leading his disciples

to the Tabor of contemplation; but when, overflooded with joy, they long

to build tabernacles that they may remain on the heights and satiate

themselves with the raptures of ecstasy, "Fools," he says to them, "ye

know not what ye ask," and directing their gaze to the crowds wandering

like sheep having no shepherd, he leads them back to the plain, to the

midst of those who moan, who suffer, who blaspheme.

The higher the moral stature of Francis the more he was exposed to the

danger of being understood only by the very few, and disappointed by

those who were nearest to him. Reading the Franciscan authors, one feels

every moment how the radiant beauty of the model is marred by the

awkwardness of the disciple. It could not have been otherwise, and this

difference between this master and the companions is evident from the

very beginnings of the Order. The greater number of the biographers have

drawn the veil of oblivion over the difficulties created by certain

Brothers as well as those which came from the ecclesiastical hierarchy,

but we must not allow ourselves to be deceived by this almost universal

silence.

Here and there we find indications all the more precious for being, so

to say, involuntary. Brother Rufino, for example, the same who was

destined to become one of the intimates of Francis's later days, assumed

an attitude of revolt shortly after his entrance into the Order. He

thought it foolish in Francis when, instead of leaving the friars to

give themselves unceasingly to prayer, he sent them out in all

directions to wait upon lepers.[41] His own ideal was the life of the

hermits of the Thebaïde, as it is related in the then popular legends of

St. Anthony, St. Paul, St. Paconius, and twenty others. He once passed

Lent in one of the grottos of the Carceri. Holy Thursday having arrived,

Francis, who was also there, summoned all the brethren who were

dispersed about the neighborhood, whether in grottos or huts, to observe

with him the memories to which this day was consecrated. Rufino refused

to come; "For that matter," he added, "I have decided to follow him no

longer; I mean to remain here and live solitary, for in this way I

shall be more surely saved than by submitting myself to this man and his

nonsense."

Young and enthusiastic for the most part, it was not always without

difficulty that the Brothers formed the habit of keeping their work in

the background. Agreeing with their master as to fundamentals, they

would have liked to make more of a stir, attract public attention by

more obvious devotion; there were some among them whom it did not

satisfy to be saints, but who also wished to appear such.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] 1 Cel., 44; 3 Soc., 55.

[2] 3 Soc., 56; _Spec._, 32b; _Conform._, 217b, 1; _Fior. Bibl.

Angel._, Amoni, p. 378.

[3] This forest has disappeared. Some of Francis's counsels have

been collected in the Admonitions. See 1 Cel., 37-41.

[4] Vide Angelo Clareno, _Tribul._ cod. Laur., 3b.

[5] 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.

[6] A. SS., Aprilis, t. iii., pp. 220-248; _Fior. Vita

d'Egidio_; _Spec._, 158 ff; _Conform._, 53-60.

[7] Other examples will be found below; it may suffice to recall

here his sally: "The glorious Virgin Mother of God had sinners

for parents, she never entered any religious order, and yet she

is what she is!" A. SS., _loc. cit._, p. 234.

[8] 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.

[9] _Nihil volebat proprietatis habere ut omnia plenius posset

in Domino possidere._ B. de Besse, 102a.

[10] 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.

[11] _Amor factus ... castis eam, stringit amplexibus nec ad

horam patitur non esse muritus._ 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.

[12] Bon., 93.--_Prohibuit fratrem qui faciebat coquinam ne

poneret legumina de sero in aqua calida quæ debebat dare

fratribus ad manducandum die sequenti ut observaverint illud

verbum Evangelii: Nolite solliciti esse de crastino._ _Spec._,

15.

[13] 2 Cel., 3, 50.

[14] _Cap._, 21. Cf. _Fior., I. consid._, 18; 30; _Conform._,

103a, 2; 2 Cel., 3, 99; 100; 121. Vide Müller, _Anfänge_, p.

187.

[15] Vide his _Opera omnia postillis illustrata_, by Father de

la Haye, 1739, f^o. 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_,

Montreuil-sur-Mer, Imprimerie Notre-Dame-des-Prés, 1890, 1 vol.,

8vo. Cf. _Legenda seu vita et miracula S. Antonii sæculo xiii

concinnata ex cod. memb. antoniæ bibliothecæ_ a P.M. Antonio

Maria Josa min. comv. Bologna, 1883, 1 vol., 8vo.

[16] 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.

[17] _Spec._, 134; 2 Cel., 3, 128.

[18] 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 between 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, quæ usque tunc ut clerici exercebant_. (_Chron._

xxiv. _gen._ cod. Gadd. relig., 53, f^o 110a). Among the early

Brothers who 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 vague memory of the

prophecies of Gioacchino di Fiore upon the age succeeding that

of the priests: _Fior._, 27. _Frate Pellegrino non volle mai

andare come chierico, ma come laico, benche fassi molto

litterato e grande decretalista._ Cf. _Conform._, 71a., 2. _Fr.

Thomas Hibernicus sibi pollecem amputavit ne ad sacerdotium

cogeretur._ _Conform._, 124b, 2.

[19] 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._

[20] The hermitage of Monte-Casale, at two hours walk northeast

from Borgo San Sepolero, still exists in its original state. It

is one of the most significant and curious of the Franciscan

deserts.

[21] 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 custodia. 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.

[22] _Fior._, 26; Conform., 119b, 1. Cf. Rule of 1221, cap. vii.

_Quicumque ad eos (fratres) venerint, amicus vel adversarius,

fur vel latro benigne recipiatur._

[23] 2 Cel., 3, 120; _Spec._, 37; _Conform._, 53a, 1. See below,

p. 385, n. 1.

[24] _Fior._, Vita di fra Ginepro; _Spec._, 174-182; _Conform._,

62b.

[25] A. SS., p. 600.

[26] 3 Soc., 56; 2 Cel., 1, 13; Bon., 24.

[27] Bon., 30; 3 Soc., 30, 31; 2 Cel., 3, 52. Cf. _Fior._, 2.

The dragon of this dream perhaps symbolizes heresy.

[28] Bon., 83; 172; _Fior._, 1, 16; _Conform._, 49a, 1, and

110b, 1; 2 Cel., 3, 51.

[29] Bernard de Besse, _De laudibus_, Turin MS., f^o. 102b and

96a. He died November 15, 1271. A. SS., Augusti, t. ii., p. 221.

[30] _Fior._, 8; _Spec._, 89b ff.; _Conform._, 30b, 2, and 140a,

2.

[31] I need not here point out the analogy in form between this

chapter and St. Paul's celebrated song of love, 1 Cor. xiii.

[32] We find the same thoughts in nearly the same terms in

_cap._ v. of the _Verba sacræ admonitionis_.

[33] He is the second of the Three Companions. 3 Soc., 1; cf. 1

Cel., 95; _Fior._, 1; 29, 30, 31; Eccleston, 12; _Spec._,

110a-114b; _Conform._, 51b ff.; cf. 2 Cel., 2, 4.

[34] 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, 1 ff; _Tribul. Archiv._, t. ii., p. 263.

[35] _Fior._, 11; _Conform._, 50b, 2; _Spec._, 104a.

[36] Rule of 1221, chap. 7. _Omnes fratres, in quibuscumque

locis fuerint apud aliquos ad serviendum, vel ad laborandum, non

sint camerarii, nec cellarii, nec præsint in domibus corum

quibus serviunt._ Cf. 1 Cel., 38 and 40; A. SS., p. 606.

[37] 1 Cel., 103; 39; _Spec._, 28; Reg. 1221, ix.; _Giord._, 33

and 39.

[38] Vide _Spec._, 34b.; _Fior._, 4.

[39] All the details of this story lead me to think that it

refers to Portiuncula and the hospital _San Salvatore delle

Pareti_. The story is given by the _Conform._, 174b, 2, as taken

from the _Legenda Antiqua_. Cf. _Spec._, 56b; _Fior._, 25.

[40] In the _Speculum_, f^o 41a, this story ends with the

phrase: _Qui vidit hæc scripsit et testimonium perhibet de

hiis_. The brother is here called _Frater Jacobus simplex_. Cf.

_Conform._, 174b.

[41] _Conform._, 51b, 1. Cf. 2 Cel., 2, 4; _Spec._, 110b;

_Fior._, 29.

* * * * *