Darkness.
Perhaps the worst season of darkness that Francis had was after the establishment of the second Order. An internal agony seized him. Was he, he asked himself, not trying to do something superhuman in uniting a contemplative with an active life. So often he had been told by people much wiser and cleverer than himself that the life he had marked out was humanly impossible! He wrestled and prayed, but nothing could dissipate the heavy blackness that spread itself over his pathway. He determined to appeal to his brethren and follow their advice. His appeal for help gives us a striking instance of how subtly Satan can take the form of an Angel of Light.
"My brethren what do you advise me?" he asked. "Which do you consider best—that I should attend to prayer, or that I should go and preach? I am a simple man, that speaks without art. I have received the gift of prayer more than of speaking. Besides, there is more profit in prayer. It is the source of grace. In preaching, we only distribute to others the gifts we have received. Prayer purifies the heart and affections. It is the union with the one true and solid Good. Preaching makes the feet of even the spiritual man dusty. It is a work that distracts and dissipates, and leads to relaxation of discipline. In short, in prayer we speak to God, and listen to Him. In preaching we must use much condescension towards men, and living among them it is often necessary to see, hear, think, and speak like them in too human fashion. These are very serious objections. And yet there is a reason that seems to give it most weight with God. It is that His only Son left the bosom of the Father to save souls, and to instruct men by His example and word. He gave all He had for our salvation. He kept nothing for Himself. Therefore it seems to me more in conformity with the Divine Will that I renounce a tranquil life and that I go to work abroad. But what is your advice? Speak! What do you think I ought to do?"
The respective merits of the question had been so equally weighed that it is not surprising that the brethren, one andall, declared themselves unable to give any advice. For several days they conferred, but no clear light shone upon their conferences. It was an important matter to decide, because the whole future conduct of the Order hung upon the decision. As Francis would walk, so also would tread his disciples. This fact, together with the general uncertainty, pressed heavily upon his soul. One of the most spiritual of Francis' historians says that God permitted him to pass through this darkness, because He wanted His servant whom He had already made a prophet, to learn by a striking example, that no inspiration comes to us from ourselves. And more than this. He wished the merit and glory of preaching to be consecrated by a species of oracle that could only be attributed to Him.
How the Answer Came.
This is how the answer came.
Francis, always little in his own eyes, was never ashamed of inquiring of any one, the simple as well as the learned, the imperfect as well as the perfect, if he thought that by so doing he would be the better able to extend the Kingdom. In the present instance, getting no light from the brethren, he sent a message to Brother Sylvester, who was now a very old man, and lived by himself on a mountain, and another to Clara, asking them to pray that God would reveal to them his will. The old priest, and the young girl and her companions, gave themselves up to prayer, and God who declares that He will be inquired of, revealed to them His will.
When the messages came, as they did together, Francis was on his knees praying. Both messengers carried the same message. It was God's will, they said, that he should leave his solitude, and preach the Gospel.
Immediately, without losing a moment, Francis got up, put on his mantle, and set of. All his doubt had vanished at once.
"Let us go, my brethren," he said. "Let us go in the name of the Lord!"
It seemed as if he were possessed by a new spirit. Never had he been so fervent. Never had his ardor beenso intense. To all that he did God set His seal in a truly marvellous manner! The inhabitants of the various villages flocked to hear him, and they almost stood upon one another to find places in the churches and cathedrals. In those days the cathedrals and great churches were not seated. The people stood all the time. The men to the front, and the women very often far behind. When there was a large crowd, the crush was fearful.
In Ascoli some thirty men from the Church joined the Minors, and were given the habit. After this event, Francis could not show himself in the street without being surrounded by a crowd. When once he came into a town the population had no thought for any one but him. The churches were filled as soon as ever it was known he was going to speak. Even in the streets they eagerly gathered up his words. Thus it was everywhere he went through Central Italy. His name was in everyone's mouth.
A Great Tree.
It was some time now since the building at the Portiuncula had become far too small to accommodate all who wished to join the Friars. There had been nothing for it but to overflow into the neighbouring provinces. It is a matter of some regret that but little of the history of this extension has been preserved. We shall see how Bernardo of Quintavelle, and Guido of Cortona, established branches of the Order, and no doubt the story of other new ventures would have been equally interesting, but all that history has handed down to us is a list of names. The tiny seed that Francis had sown in weakness was rapidly becoming a great tree. Though this progress was gratifying to him, it also caused him some suffering. By nature he was intensely affectionate, and when one by one he had to send out from him his old companions to take charge of distant branches, his heart was sad indeed.
One day while he was thinking, as he often did, about his absent friends, the thought occurred to him that something might be done to alleviate this separation. Something, too, that would benefit the entire Order. Twice a year it was arranged that all the brethren, new and old, should meet at the Portiuncula. This ideaproved to be so good that it became one of the fundamental rules of the Order.
A Curious Scene.
The first of these "Chapters," as they were called, was held after Francis had completed his tour in Central Italy. The brethren came from far and near. They came pouring in from all quarters, up from the valleys, and down from the mountains, and from the shining sea-coast, streams of brown-robed, bare-footed men of all classes and conditions of life. And what were they coming to? A little church and convent as poor as themselves, where there were not even provisions enough on hand to supply one-hundredth part of the hundreds that were flocking there with one meal! But in perfect faith and trust they came, plodding along under the blazing sun, some rapt in meditation, others saluting all they met with their gentle salutation, "the peace of God."
Such a sight was never seen in Italy before, and from castle and city poured glittering vividly-colored groups to see the wonderful sight. The richly-colored garments of the crowd, and the gaily-decked cavalcade from the country and castle formed a brilliant foil to the brown-robed stream of friars. The Portiuncula is situated on one of the lowest slopes of the Appenine hills, below it stretches the wide plain. This was the guest-chamber. There were no other beds than the bare ground, with here and there a little straw. But we need not pity them as far as sleeping out of doors goes, because the Umbrian nights are of all things most beautiful. The air was soft and warm, and the brilliant blue-starred heavens above did away with any need of artificial light.
Francis met this crowd with great pleasure and cheerfulness, though he had not a crust to offer them. When they were all assembled he told them with sublime faith to give no thought as to what they were to eat or drink, but only to praise God. And his faith was rewarded. The people came from Perugia, Spoleto, Foligno, and Assisi, and from all the neighboring country to carry meat and drink to that strange congregation. They came with horses and asses, and carts laden with bread and cheeseand beans and other good things, and besides this they brought plates, and jugs, and knives; and knights, and barons, and other noblemen, who had come to look on, waited on the brothers with much devotion. It was such sight as once seen could never be forgotten.
Three Grades.
In these chapters Francis was at his best, and happily the historians of the time have preserved for us details of his mode of work. He was there to spend and be spent. His one desire was that the brethren should gain a renewal of spiritual strength in the days passed together, and at the same time that the Order in general should be benefited. To attain the first end, he employed what we have pointed out before as being one of his strongest points—private and individual dealing. As we have also already intimated, we feel sure that the greater part of his phenomenal success resulted from this. In his own mind he had the brethren carefully graded. There were three divisions. First, the fervent; second, the troubled in spirit; and thirdly, the tepid. The correctness with which he assigned everyone to his proper place was well-nigh divine. At the time of writing the fervent were numerous, but they were likely to be carried away by an exaggerated zeal. Some of them wore chains, and were ruining their health with over-watchings and fastings. Francis boldly forbade this. He would have none of it. He spoke to such kindly and tenderly, but he also spoke forcibly in commending that reason which must regulate piety, as it regulates human life. By precise and detailed rules he delivered the fervent from exhausting their strength before its time, and thus preserved them for their work. But it was not an easy task that of controlling the fervent, especially when there was a spice of self-will in addition to the fervency.
In a large community, such as Francis now had on his hands, there is always sure to be a large percentage of troubled ones. Francis well knew this, he knew that the devil was always on the alert, that trials without and within are the lot of every mortal. These troubled ones found in their leader a tower of strength. Tohim they poured out their most secret confidences. The difficulties they had with uncongenial brethren, their interior doubts and fears, and awful dread that such might one day cause them to fall away. Francis showed all such the sincerest compassion. They knew and felt or that he loved them. His sympathy was a remedy in itself. They left him cheered and refreshed and strengthened.
Human weakness is never slow in showing itself, and the tepid were easily recognized. They were generally those who had made a very good beginning, but had allowed their zeal to cool and were becoming unfaithful to the grace God had given them, and to the rules of the Order. Francis was always gentle to these as he was gentle to all, but he knew how to maintain his authority—to reprove, blame, and correct. He followed the Divine recommendation, "If thy brother shall offend thee, go and rebuke him between thee and him alone." His happiness was complete if he could gain the tepid brother.
Duty of Humility.
In the general meetings where all the brethren were assembled he dealt with the interests of the whole work. He was very strong at these times on the duty of humility.
"Make yourselves small and humble to everyone," he would say, "but above all, be humble to the priests. The care of souls has been entrusted to them. We are only auxiliaries, to do what they cannot do." They were never to enter any field of labor without the invitation, or at least the consent, of the local clergy. And then, when they had received this permission they must never act as though they were masters. This policy acted well. The local clergy had no misgivings in seeking their assistance. They knew that these men would not try to make the people discontented with their own pastors, but rather sow content.
Another spirit Francis strove to get into his followers—that was the spirit of tolerance. He warned them against carrying their attitude, in regard to riches, to excess, and to say that all men must see as they did or remain unsaved. Other reformers had done this and were extinguished.The rule of poverty was God's leading for Francis. All men he recognized were not called to follow this track, though some of his disciples, in their enthusiasm, would have it that they were. To them Francis said—
"Do not use the sacrifices you impose upon yourselves as a weapon. Beware of haughty reproofs. We must show the same mercy that has been shown to us. The God Who has called us may also call them by-and-bye. I wish all that are here never to call the rich anything but brothers and lords. They are our brothers, since they have the same Creator as we, and they are our lords also because without them we could not persevere in the poverty that we have made our law."
This spirit of tolerance was to extend to the sinners. He did not like to hear them berated.
"Many who are the children of the devil to-day," he said, "will become true disciples. Perhaps they will go before us. This thought alone ought to keep us from all violence of language. We have been sent to bring back to the truth those who are ignorant and in error. That is our office, and one that is not accomplished by the use of cutting words and sharp reproaches.... It is not enough that our compassion be in words only. The important thing is that it should be in our deeds, that all who see us may, by occasion of us, praise our common Father, Who is in Heaven."
Holiness.
He was also strong on holiness. He taught that there must be a true light within that shines only from a clean heart, before it can shine on the outer world, and without this no good work could be accomplished. Francis was full of the grace and wisdom of Jesus Christ. Of the spiritual effect of the first chapter a historian writes—
"The brethren valued the gift they had received. Not one of them cared to talk of profane matters. They talked about the holy examples given by some amongst them, and sought together ways of growing in grace and in the knowledge of Jesus Christ."
"Ah, the people needed helping—Needed love—(for love and HeavenAre the only gifts not bartered,They alone are freely given)."
"Ah, the people needed helping—Needed love—(for love and HeavenAre the only gifts not bartered,They alone are freely given)."
It is rather a pity that there have not been more detailed accounts handed down to us of the converts who could point to Francis as their spiritual father. It would have given us yet another side of that life which was the most glorious spiritual light of the dark age in which he lived! From the few that we meet incidentally, here and there, we have no doubt that such documents, were they forthcoming, would be of immense value. But, alas, the age in which Francis lived was not an essentially literary one, and writing was one of the accomplishments left to the few! So we must therefore make the best of such scanty material as we have at our disposal, and try to give you an idea of the different species of humanity that were attracted by the kindly, gracious, Christ-like personality of Francis.
We have seen how at first, he had no idea of his call extending any further than himself and his own life and conduct. Then one by one, at first, and more quickly afterwards, men ranged themselves under his standard, and claimed him as their leader. Naturally, and simply, he took up his new position, and the duties attached thereto. He seemed to know by intuition those whom God had singled out to be his followers, and one after another heard Francis, as the voice of God calling them to leave all and follow the lowly despised Christ.
Soldiers in the Christian Army.
One of the first of these was a laborer named John.
It was always a great grief to Francis when he saw a church left dirty and neglected. It gave him positive pain to think that anyone could neglect the House of God, and give it less care than they would their own homes. When he went on different preaching tours he used to call the priests of the locality together, and beg of them to look after the decency of the churches. He was not content merely to preach, but often he bound stalks of heather together and made himself a broom, and set to work and showed them an example.
One day he was busily engaged in sweeping out a church when a peasant appeared. He had left his cart and come to see what was going on. After he had stared for a time, he went over to Francis and said—
"Brother, let me have the broom and I will help you." He took the broom, and finished the church.
When his task was ended, he said—
"Brother, for a long time, ever since I heard men speak of you, I have decided to serve God. I never knew where to find you. Now it has pleased God that we should meet, and henceforth I will do whatever you command me."
Francis was convinced that he would make a good friar, so he accepted him. This John was renowned afterwards for his piety, the other friars admired him greatly. He did not live very long, and after his death, Francis used to love to tell the story of his conversion, always speaking of him as BrotherSaintJohn.
Angelo Tancredi was a young knight, rich, and of noble family. Francis met him one day in the neighbourhood of Rieti. He had never seen him before, he knew nothing whatever of him, but inspired by God, he went up to him and said—
"My brother, thou hast long worn belt, sword and spurs. Henceforth thy belt must be a rope, thy sword the Cross of Jesus Christ, and for spurs thou must have dust and mud. Follow me. I will make thee a soldier in the Christian Army."
Angelo's heart must have been prepared by God forthis call, because we read that "the brave soldier immediately followed Francis as the Apostles followed our Lord."
New Recruits.
Those who lived with him say that he was distinguished by a "glorious simplicity," meaning, no doubt, that while he accepted the humility of his new life, he retained something of his distinguished manners, and chivalrous bearing. He was a personal friend of Francis', and one to whom he could always unburden his soul.
Guido of Cortono is said to have been a born Franciscan. Passing through Cortono, on a preaching tour, Francis found him ready, and almost waiting for him. He was a young man of singular purity of character. He had neither father nor mother, and lived quietly on the means they had left him. What was over from his income, he gave to the poor. After he had heard Francis preach, he went up to him and begged that he would come to his house, and make it his home as long as he stayed in Cortono. Francis consented, and as he and his companion followed Guido home, Francis said—
"By the grace of God this young man will be one of us, and will sanctify himself among his fellow-citizens."
After they had eaten and rested, Guido offered himself to Francis to be one of his disciples. Francis agreed to receive him upon condition that he should sell all his goods. This was done, apparently on the spot, for we read that the three went round the town, distributing the money. After this Francis conducted Guido into the Church, and there clothed him with the "beast" colored robe.
Guido retired to a place outside the city, and became the founder of a branch of the work. A small monastery was built, and such of his converts in the locality, as were called to be friars, Guido received.
Sometimes the very talk about what Francis was doing, was used of God to re-kindle the flame of love to Him in hearts where it had nearly been extinguished. Simply hearing of the crowds that were seeking forgiveness of sins, roused others to a sense of their eternal needs. Amongst this number was John Parenti.
Parenti was a magistrate, a clever, thinking man, who lived in the neighbourhood of Florence. He had long been very careless about his soul, and what little religion he ever had had was fast slipping out of his careless hold. He had heard of Francis, and the reformation that was taking place in Umbria, and meditated long and deeply on all that he heard, wondering, no doubt, if there was really "anything in it," or was it not "all mere excitement." Still, he was more than ever convinced that he himself had very little religion to boast of.
The Swineherd and his Pigs.
One evening he was taking a walk in the country when he met a swine-herd. This youth was in great difficulty over his contrary flock. As is the nature of pigs, mediæval or otherwise, they went in every direction except that in which they were wanted to go! Parenti stood looking on amused at the boy's efforts. With much labor at last he got them towards the stable door, and as they were rushing in he cried—
"Go in, you beasts, go in as the magistrates and judges go into hell!"
It was only the uncouth speech of an equally uncouth swine-herd, but God used it to the salvation of his soul. He began to think about the dangers of his profession, and the state in which he was living, and where he should really go to if he died. The business of salvation looked to him that evening as the only one worth taking up, and the straight and narrow road the only safe place.
He went home and confided all his hopes and fears to his son. Together they decided that they would go and find Francis, and tell him they wanted to change their life. They saw Francis, and before they left him, they had made up their minds to become friars. They came back, sold all their goods, and then put on the garment of the Order. Parenti was a valuable acquisition to the Order, and rose to considerable eminence in after days.
The Prince of Poets.
Perhaps one of the most remarkable of Francis' converts was Pacificus, as he was known in the Order. This man was a noted poet and musician. He was known throughout Italy as "The King of the Verses," and wasconsidered to be the very prince of poets. He excelled in songs, and was greatly appreciated everywhere. His supremacy was so undoubted that several times he had received the poet's crown from the hands of the Emperor of Germany, that very same crown that afterwards adorned the brows of Petrarch and Tasso. He was visiting at San Severino when he met Francis.
A house of "Poor Ladies" had just been founded in this place, and Francis was preaching in their chapel. Some friends of Pacificus had relatives among the "Poor Ladies," and as they were going to visit them they asked him to come along too. He went, and as Francis was preaching they stopped to hear him. The tone, and the eloquence of the preacher, arrested Pacificus, and he could not hide his emotion as one truth after another struck his conscience. Francis perceiving that one hearer at least was touched by his words, turned the point of his discourse straight at him. The longer Pacificus listened, the more he was convinced not only that the hand of the Lord was upon him, but that a great work was required of him. As soon as the sermon was over, he asked to speak with Francis. That conversation completely won Pacificus. Francis spoke to him of the judgments of God, and the vanities of the world.
"Enough of words," cried the Poet, "let us have deeds! Withdraw me, I pray you, from men, and restore me to the supreme Emperor."
Francis was always a lover of decision, and the next day he gave him the habit, and took him on to Assisi with him. Ever after this the poet was known as Pacificus, in memory of the peace of Christ that that day flowed into his soul. His life was beautiful in its simplicity. His historian writes, "he seemed rather to forget what he had been, than have to make any violent effort to force himself to a new life." In other words, his life "was hid with Christ in God."
This conversion of Pacificus attracted a great deal of attention and did much towards advertising the Franciscans all over Europe.
Professor Pepoli.
Professor Pepoli filled an important chair in the Bologna University. He was converted through the preaching of Francis in Bologna. Of this preaching an eye witness writes:—
"I, Thomas, Archdeacon of the Cathedral Church, studying at Bologna, saw Francis preach in the square, where nearly the whole town was assembled. He spoke first of angels, and men, and devils. He explained the spiritual natures with such exactitude and eloquence that his hearers were astonished that such words could come from the mouth of so simple a man. Nor did he follow the usual course of preachers. His discourse resembles rather those harangues that are made by popular orators. At the conclusion he spake only of the extinction of hatred, and the urgency of concluding treaties of peace and compacts of union. His garment was soiled and torn, his person mean, his face pale, but God gave his words unheard of power. He even converted noblemen, whose unrestrained fury had bathed the country in blood, and many of them were reconciled."
Professor Pepoli came under the spell of this preaching. A little later all Bologna was electrified by hearing that he was about to give up his professorship and become one of Francis' disciples. His friends did all in their power to keep him. They pointed out to him how much he loved his studies and the glory that was his. All in vain. Professor Pepoli had already been accepted by Francis.
Three years later he died, greatly mourned by an entire monastery of which he had been the founder.
If there were one class of men that Francis took more interest in than another, after the lepers, it was the thieves and robbers that abounded all over Europe. One day a number of them came begging at the monastery. Angelo Tancredi opened the door to them and, true to his soldierly instincts, was very wroth at their impudence.
The Robbers.
"What!" he cried, "Robbers, evil-doers, assassins, have you no shame for stealing the goods of others, but would you devour the goods of the servants of God? You who are not worthy to live, and respect neither men orGod. Get you hence, and never let me see you here again!"
The robbers departed, full of rage. Francis next appeared close on their heels, carrying with him some bread and wine that had been given to him. Angelo told him of the impudence of the robbers, and how he had served them. To his surprise, Francis was much grieved at his conduct, and reproved him for his cruelty.
"Go at once," he said, "and take this bread and wine and seek those robbers till you have found them, and offer them this bread from me, then ask their pardon, and pray them in my name to no longer do wrong, but fear God."
Angelo departed, while Francis stayed at home and prayed for the success of his undertaking. The robbers were found, and Angelo brought them back to the monastery where they not only sought the pardon of their sins, but became friars, and lived and died in true holiness.
One day Francis and some of the friars were passing round the foot of a great castle. It was evident there was some festival going on inside! The banner of the house floated over the gates, and the sound of trumpets were heard half over the country-side. The young Count of Montefeltro was about to be knighted.
"Come," said Francis, suddenly inspired, "let us go to the Castle, and with God's help perhaps we may make some spiritual knight."
As soon as the ceremony was ended, and the company began to pour out into the courtyard, Francis stood up on a low wall and began to preach. He spoke of the worthlessness of all earthly pleasures compared to the heavenly ones. He showed what the love of God could do in the human soul, pointing them to the apostles and martyrs as illustration, and contrasting the chivalry of the Christian heroes with that which was human glory only. It was an appropriate subject, and the people listened attentively.
Amongst the audience was a valiant knight, Count Orlando, Lord of Chiusi. Immediately after the sermon, he went to Francis and said—
"I should like to talk to you about the salvation of my soul."
"Most willingly," replied Francis, always courteous, "but this is not quite a fitting moment. You must honor those who have invited you. First go and dine with them, and after the repast we will converse at leisure."
Count Orlando did so, and returning to Francis they talked together. Very soon Orlando was happier than he had ever been in his life before, because he knew that his sins were all pardoned. Before he parted with Francis he said—
"I have in my domains a mountain called La Vernia. It is exactly suited to men who wish to live in solitude. If it please thee I will give it to thee most willingly."
Francis accepted the offer, and the mountain was used as a place where the brethren could go to pray, and rest when worn out with the fatigue of their work. It was really a huge plateau on top of a steep mountain, covered with trees. Amongst these, some little cells were constructed, and a quieter, more restful place it would be hard to imagine.
The Peasant's Advice.
It was when Francis was climbing this mountain once, that a peasant, who took him up on his ass, asked him—
"Are you the Francis of Assisi that is so much talked of?"
"Yes," said Francis, "I am."
"Well," responded the man, "You will have hard work to be as good as they say you are. They have such confidence in you, it is difficult for you to be equal to it, at least that ismyopinion."
Francis was charmed with this opinion, and thanked the man for his charitable advice, but before that journey was ended, the peasant was convinced that Francis was as good as "they" said he was.
Our readers must not imagine that Francis' converts were all men. Far from it. Many women, besides Clara and Agnes, had to thank God that he ever came their way and taught them how to love and serve God.
"Our Brother Jacqueline!"
There was Jacqueline. She was of noble family, and though she did not leave the world like Clara, yet she served the cause right nobly. She was a most unusual woman for her times. We are told that "she was not afraid of business!" She went in person and treated with the Benedictines, and induced them to give up certain buildings in favor of the Friars Minor. All her riches and influence she put at the disposal of the Franciscans, who had no more active patron than Jacqueline. Francis used to call her jokingly "our brother Jacqueline!"
On one of the last tours Francis was able to make, he suffered much from pain and depression. To cheer him, says a historian, God gave him a piece of work to do for Him. He was passing through a place called Voluisiano, when a young lady, the wife of the baron of the place, ran after him. When she caught up with him she was very much out of breath. Francis looked at her with interest, and asked—
"What can I do for you, Madam?"
"I want you to bless me," she said.
"Are you married?" went on Francis.
"Oh, yes," said the girl, "and my husband is very stern. He sets himself against my serving Jesus Christ. He is my great trouble. I have received a right will from Heaven, and I cannot follow it on account of him. Will you pray that God may soften his heart?"
"My daughter," Francis said in great compassion, "Go, I am assured your husband will become your consolation. Tell him this from God and me, 'Now is the time of salvation, recompense will surely come.'"
Then he gave her his blessing.
The lady went home, and finding her husband, gave him Francis' message. The Spirit of God carried it to his inmost soul.
"He is right," he said to his wife, "Let us serve God together, and save our souls in our own house!"
"The Lord be praised," cried his wife, and together they thanked God for the gift of His wonderful salvation. They lived for a great many years in godliness andholiness, and passed away to be with Christ, the one in the morning and the other in the evening of the same day.
A Catalogue of Names.
Other equally interesting incidents, we have no doubt cluster round what, unfortunately, the historians present to us in the form of a catalogue of mere names.
"God the Father, give us graceTo walk in the light of Jesu's Face.God the Son, give us a part,In the hiding place of Jesu's Heart.God the Spirit, so hold us up,That we may drink of Jesu's Cup."
"God the Father, give us graceTo walk in the light of Jesu's Face.God the Son, give us a part,In the hiding place of Jesu's Heart.God the Spirit, so hold us up,That we may drink of Jesu's Cup."
They were five in number. Their names were Berard, Peter, Otho, Adjutorius, and Accurtius. When they first started out for Morocco, a sixth, Vital, was with them, but at an early stage of the journey he fell sick, and rather than the mission should be delayed on his account he insisted on their leaving him behind. He never recovered, but died about the same time as his brothers were martyred.
About these martyrs historians are divided in their minds. Some say that they were foolish and extreme and courted persecution, others declare that they were animated by the Holy Ghost, and others that it was a part of God's great plan for the encouraging of the Franciscan movement. Certain it is, that in their case, the blood thus spilled was fruitful, and brought to life rich fruit, and we have no doubt that to-day they are among that mighty throng who are clothed in white raiment, and bear palms in their hands, who on earth "counted not their life dear to them." The memory of such souls is always fragrant, and supreme love, even though it may appear ill-regulated, is better than a tepid affection which is unworthy the name.
The five travelled by way of Portugal, where they were well received. At Seville they stopped in the house of a Christian merchant for eight days, which time they spent inprayer. At the end of the eight days they informed the gentleman why they had come, and further said that they were about to commence a little preaching in Seville. Seville was at this period in the hands of the Moors. The poor merchant was utterly horrified at their proposals, he threw every obstacle in their way, telling them that they would do no good, and only make it hard for the Christian merchants who were allowed to trade there! Needless to say, such worldly reasoning had no effect upon the disciples of Francis.
Preaching in at Mosque.
Their first attempt was, of all places, in a mosque! While the Moors were engaged in devotion one day, they were electrified to hear a loud voice proclaim to them Jesus Crucified. They immediately rose up and drove the intruders out with blows and curses. The five next repaired to a larger mosque, and sought to obtain a hearing there. Again they were thrown out. Then a brilliant idea occurred to the leader, Berard.
"We will go to the King," he said. "If we gain him, the victory over the others will be easy!"
In spite of all difficulties, they managed to gain admission to the Court, and present their plea. The King was enraged at their audacity, and ordered them to be scourged and beheaded, which was the summary mode in which justice was dealt out in that era. If it had not been for the intercession of the King's son, this sentence would have been carried into effect, as it was they were taken away and imprisoned in a tower.
A few hours later all Seville gathered to see a strange sight! There, on top of the prison tower, stood the five, brown-robed, bare-footed strangers, singing with all their might praises to the one true God! They were then taken and thrust into the darkest and deepest dungeon. But as solitary confinement was unknown then, they found that they had a congregation all ready to listen to them, and, as long as they stayed there, they never ceased to preach repentance to the prisoners.
They were not left in prison very long. The King sent for them again, and began by coaxing them to leave offpreaching. He promised them riches and honor, if they would only stop talking about Jesus Christ. They thanked him courteously, and Berard said—
"Would to God, noble prince, you would show mercy to yourself! You need it more than we do. Treat us as you will, you can, at the utmost, only deprive us of life, and that is a matter of little moment to us who hope for eternal joys!"
What to do with these strange men the King did not know! Their courage and heroism he could not but admire, still they were very dangerous. After a consultation with his officers, they decided that the best thing to be done was to get them quietly out of the country. Accordingly they were placed in a vessel bound to Morocco. This exile filled the five with joy! At last they were to begin work in an infidel country!
Don Pedro.
Now, Don Pedro, the brother of King Alphonso of Portugal, a nominal Christian, had had some kind of a dispute with the King, in consequence of which he had come to live in Morocco. Notwithstanding his Christianity, he had been placed at the head of a Mussulman army. To him the missionaries repaired. By this time their personal appearance was anything but improved. Suffering and imprisonment had done their work, their faces were wan and thin, and their garments were all but in rags. Nevertheless, Don Pedro received them kindly, and promised to befriend them. He warned them against being too extreme, cautioned them to moderation, and begged that they would not expose themselves to danger.
But Don Pedro knew nothing about that love, which is as fire in the bones, and is strong as death; so strong that no barriers can keep it within bounds. The next morning found the missionaries hard at work. They had learned that there was going to be some kind of a public procession through the town as the King was going to visit the tomb of his ancestors.
Prison and Torture.
A procession to the five meant people, a concourse of sinners and infidels, a glorious opportunity, and if they did not make the best of it, they would be unworthy thename they bore. Just as the King was passing, Berard, who could speak Arabic, mounted a cart and began to preach. Instead of stopping when the royal train passed, as a Mussulman would have done, he waxed more vehement. To the King this seemed either insolence or madness, and having charitably decided on madness, he ordered the missionaries to be banished. Don Pedro, who by this time had had enough of his troublesome guests, gave them an escort to the nearest seaport, and hurried their departure. Again he reckoned without his host. It was to the Moors the five were sent to preach, and to the Moors they were bound to go, so they escaped from their escort, returned to Morocco, and began to preach again in the streets.
This was too much for the King, and he had them thrown into the vilest of dungeons, where for several weeks they languished in great misery, with barely enough to eat. One of the nobles of the Court who was secretly inclined to the Friars, advised the King to let them out, but place them under proper care. This was done, and they were handed over to the unfortunate Don Pedro, who was far from cheerful at seeing them back again. He was about to start off on a military expedition into the interior, and not daring to leave his awkward charge behind, he took them with him. Nothing much is known of their doings till they got back again to Morocco, whereupon they began their preaching again without any more delay. Yet again the King commanded that they should be thrown into prison, and this time they were sentenced to torture. Albozaida was the name of the officer who was to carry out this sentence. In his heart he pitied and admired the missionaries, and notwithstanding the order he had received, he merely had them shut up, and begged of the King to pardon them. But it was no use. The King was very angry, and demanded that his will be carried out without delay. So there was nothing for Albozaida to do but to hand them over to the executioner.
The End.
Alas for them! this man was a renegade Christian, and no torture was too great for him to inflict upon them. Theywere dragged through the streets with cords round their necks, they were beaten, they were rolled over pieces of glass and broken tiles, and when evening came, vinegar was poured into their open wounds, lest the night should bring too much cessation from pain. But they smiled at pain, and praised God in the midst of the greatest tortures. This treatment failing to kill them, the King desired to see them again. He spoke to them at first as though he had never seen them before.
"Are you the impious men who despise the true faith, the madmen who blaspheme the Prophet of the Lord?" he said.
"Oh King," they replied, "far from despising the true faith, we are ready to die for it. It is true that our faith is not your faith."
The King did not appear to be displeased with this bold statement. He had another argument at hand. He sent for a number of richly-dressed women, and presenting them to the missionaries he said, "If you will follow the law of Mahomet, I will give you these women for wives, and you shall have positions of honor and power in my kingdom. If not, you shall die by the sword!"
"Prince," they answered, "We want neither your women nor your honors. Be such things yours, and Jesus Christ ours. Make us suffer all your tortures, kill us. Pain will be light to us. We look to Heaven!"
Maddened by his own insufficiency the King got up, seized a sword, and cleft their heads as though he were but a common executioner. Thus perished the first Franciscan Martyrs.
And did they accomplish nothing? Was their mission an utter failure, as some historians write it? Let us see for ourselves.
As soon as the missionaries had been killed, the mob took their bodies, and dragged them in the mire, and horribly mutilated them. However, Don Pedro, who up till now had been but a very poor representative of the Church of Christ, was deeply touched by the death of the five, and his once half-sleeping conscience was awakened intoactivity. He got possession of the battered bodies, and resolving that he would have nothing further to do with the enemies of Christianity, took them, and went back to his own country. As soon as he arrived at Coimbra, King Alphonse came out to meet him, and with great rejoicing the remains of the Missionary Martyrs were carried to the Church.