OUTSIDESAN FRANCESCO
OUTSIDESAN FRANCESCO
It was at Le Carceri that he invited the nightingale to try which could sing longest to the praise and glory of God. Brother Leo declined to join in this trial, but the saint and the nightingale sang on through the night, till Francis, completely exhausted, had to yield victory to the bird.
While we stood gazing at the frescoes, thinking of all these things, Fra Antonio said softly:
"The Signora and the Signori have now seen all I can to-day show them."
We longed to linger, but already the kind man had given us much of his time; he quaintly added, "It is, moreover, my dinner-hour."
Then we took leave of the kind Fra, and said we would come again. We went out by the west door under the fine window, and rejoiced in the very lovely view before us. We wishedour guide a good appetite, and he stood watching us as we went down one flight of the double range of steps leading from the Piazza of the Upper Church to the Lower one.
We were tired when we came out into the sunshine, and we sat down in the shade opposite a fountain, at the foot of the steps.
A girl came presently up the hill behind us, her bare feet white with dust. She carried on her red-kerchiefed head a tall copper pitcher with dinges which bespoke it the worse for wear; her skirt was short and dark, and the light blue bodice laced up behind showed a white undervest. In a minute she began to run fast, deftly balancing the tall pitcher. Then we saw behind her a long-legged lad, evidently bent on arriving first at the fountain. The two figures seemed to fly along the dusty road; the lad outran the girl, and, when she reached him, panting and choking with laughter,he had the courtesy to fill her pitcher for her, and helped her in raising it to her head.
SAN FRANCESCO, THE UPPER CHURCH.
SAN FRANCESCO, THE UPPER CHURCH.
It is wonderful how these women can so surely support the loads they carry on their heads; the burden is sometimes a huge round basket, three feet across, full of grapes or heavy vegetables.
We rarely saw a man thus burdened; he seems to content himself in Italy, as he does in France, with looking on and admiring, while the women do the work.
Our little hotel, the Albergo Subasio, is close to San Francesco, and from its windows commands a most exquisite view of the valley and the richly-tinted hills. If time served, one could spend hours in enjoying the beauty of this landscape, so full of colour and of variety.
We passed by San Francesco, and up the long, solemn street which it seems to guard. Grass grows freely between the stones that pave the street, which mounts very steeply; farther up were shops, but all were full of silence. No one seemed to be alive within the dark openings on either side, though from the wares displayedit was evident that inhabitants were not far off; doubtless all sound asleep at this time of day.
At the top of the street on either side are tall old grey palaces; one of these, on the right, has a projecting roof, supported by long and beautifully-carved brackets. This is the Ospedale, with its curious door. On the left is the Palazzo Allemanni; over every door and window is the legend,In Domino confido.
The blue mountains, each range paler and more exquisite in tint as it rose behind another, were seen through a glimmering veil of sparsely-planted olives, and seemingly ended the street we were mounting; but, going on, we presently came out on the Piazza di Minerva.
Here is a fine, very ancient portico, supported by five columns of travertine, once the front of a temple to Minerva. Behind it is the more modern church of Santa Maria della Minerva. We werenow on the site of old Roman Assisi, for the Forum lies below the Piazza, and one goes down steps to it. Formerly a flight of steps in front of the temple led to the Forum, and the effect must have been very fine; now the artificially raised ground of the Piazza takes away from the apparent height of the portico, which has no longer so lofty a position in the general view as of old. It seems a pity that the space round it is not clearer.
Up a turning not far from the Temple of Minerva we came to the cathedral of Assisi, San Rufino, built by Giovanni da Gubbio in twelfth and early part of thirteenth century. It has an interesting brown façade and a picturesque campanile; its three fine doorways and rose windows are full of beauty, but the interior is comparatively modernised, although a triptych by Niccolo da Foligno is worth seeing. There are many frescoes and pictures in Assisi, by Matteo da Gualdo,Tiberio di Assisi, l'Ingegno, and one at least by that rarely found master, Fiorenzo di Lorenzo. There are some in the small church of San Paolo, near the Temple of Minerva, some in the Palazzo Pubblico, and elsewhere. Beyond the Piazza Grande is the house wherein Metastasio was born.
But we found it difficult to detach our interest from Francis Bernardone, who is truly the moving spirit of Assisi, and, turning downwards to the right, we were soon in the little square of Chiesa Nuova. We knocked at the church door, and, after some delay, a very old monk, wearing the Franciscan habit, opened it.
He only nodded or shook his head in answer to our questions. The interest attaching to Chiesa Nuova lies wholly in the fact that it stands on the site of the Bernardone house. The shop of El Poverello's father is still preserved in the Via Portici. The high altar in Chiesa Nuova is supposed tooccupy the place of the saint's bedchamber; a side-chapel on the right is an unaltered room of the house, that in which his mother, Madonna Pica, dreamed her wonderful dream. The door is still standing at which, in her vision, the angel appeared to her, with the tidings that her expected child would be born in a stable; this is said to be a later invention of the Franciscans. There is a dark cave in the church, said to be part of the cellar in which his father imprisoned Francis to cure him of his so-called fanatical follies. It looked dismayingly dismal. He was probably flung in here on his return from San Damiano. The little Piazza before the church was not that which witnessed the young saint's renunciation of the world, and heard his memorable vow. That scene took place in front of the now decayed romanesque church of Santa Maria Maggiore, near the Bishop's palace. This was one of the churches partly restored by St. Francis,who rebuilt its eastern end. It was probably on the Piazza here that Francis flung down money and clothing, and, sheltered only by the Bishop's mantle, borrowed the serge garment of a rough countryman, and began his new life.
Francis, when he left the Piazza, was free. He at once set to work to repair San Damiano, begging bricks and other needful materials from the more charitable of the citizens. He next restored another chapel in the neighbourhood; this completed, he fell to work on the wayside shrine to which his mother had often taken him as a child, the well-known chapel of the Little Portion of St. Mary, or, as it is to this day called, La Portioncula.
It belonged to the Benedictine abbey on the heights of Subasio, whence a priest occasionally came down the mountain to celebrate mass for worshippers. Francis found much comfort in this service, and it was a delight to him to restore with his own handsthe little building to a weather-proof condition.
One day the Gospel read by the officiating priest greatly impressed Francis; it seemed to him that the life he was leading could not be altogether pleasing to God, because its aim was only the saving of his own soul: he ought surely to incite others to share the light he had received. From this time there began in him that intense hunger after souls which was, next to his love of God, the chief motive-power of his life. He had once been pre-eminent in folly, and by his vainglorious and prodigal example had led many souls to sin: he was bound, he decided, not only to submit himself joyfully to every trial, as a means sent to subdue his will and his self-pleasing nature, but he must try to prevail on others to follow the same discipline.
His character seems to have developed with every fresh demand onhis exertions, a development caused not so much by impulse, as by a humble feeling that he had not done nearly enough to prove his penitence.
He walked to Assisi, and began to preach in its streets. He at once attracted listeners; disciples soon followed.
The first of these was a wealthy noble, called in theFiorettiand elsewhere in connection with Francis, Bernard di Quintavalle. This nobleman, also called in theFioretti, "Bernard of Assisi, who was of the noblest and richest and wisest in the city," wisely began to take heed unto St. Francis,—how exceeding strong must be his contempt of the world, how great his patience in the midst of wrongs, because albeit abominated and despised for two whole years by everyone, he seemed yet more patient; Bernard began to think and to say to himself, "This could not be, unless the Brother has the fulness of God's grace." He invited the preacher that evening to sup and lodge with him, and St.Francis consented thereto.... Thereat Bernard set it in his heart to watch his sanctity, wherefore he let make ready for him a bed in his own proper chamber, in the which, at night-time, ever a lamp did burn. And St. Francis, for to hide his sanctity, when he was come into the chamber, incontinent did throw himself upon the bed, and made as though he slept; and likewise Bernard, after some short space, did lie him down, and fell to snoring loudly.... St. Francis, thinking truly that Bernard slept, rose up from his bed, and set himself to pray ... "My God, my God" at intervals through the night. When morning came, Bernard professed himself ready to become a follower of the new teaching. Francis, though overjoyed in his heart, told his convert that this was a task so great and difficult that it behoved them to seek for Divine guidance in the matter. He proposed that they should go together to the Bishop's house, and find there agood priest he knew; and, after mass had been said for them, that the priest, at the request of Francis, should open the missal thrice and read each time the words at which it opened.
At the first opening the words were, "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast," etc.
At the second opening the words were, "Take nothing for your journey," etc.
At the third, "If any one will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me."
Bernard at once obeyed Christ's words: he sold all his possessions, distributed his money among the poor and suffering, and went to live with El Poverello, as Francis was called, in a small hut not far from the lazar-house. The house of Bernard still stands, also the room in which the friends talked; it is now called Palazzo Sbaraglini, and is in the same street as the home of Clara Scifi.
The next convert who came to seek Francis in the hut, to ask leave to share his labours in tending the lepers, was the learned Pietro di Cataneo, a canon of the cathedral of San Rufino. The third was Fra or Fratello Egidio, called in English "Brother Giles," a poor labourer, who proved to be one of the most remarkable of the group termed by Francis his "Knights of the Round Table." Egidio seems to have been willing as well as able to set his hand to any work he was asked to do. Besides helping to tend the lepers, these men begged their daily bread in the streets of Assisi, and Francis preached constantly, sometimes in several adjacent villages the same day, so fervently that crowds flocked to listen.
The number of penitents soon increased, and, seeing this, Bishop Guido of Assisi, at first so kind, grew jealous of the new power of the penitent brothers. He advised Francis to join either the Dominican community, orthe Benedictines, a branch of whom had already established themselves on the heights of Subasio.
"Your present life," the Bishop said, "is impracticable."
Francis answered that, "as the Bishop knows, money is at the root of all quarrels, therefore I and my brother penitents, wishing to live in peace, prefer to be without it."
As time went on the number of penitents increased. Francis was perplexed how to dispose of them; he felt also that if he could gain the Papal sanction the power of his mission would be strengthened. He resolved to make a pilgrimage to Rome, in order to ask Pope Innocent the Third to consider his Rule, and to give it his approval.
Eleven of the brothers went with him cheerfully to the Imperial City, singing hymns of praise as they walked. They were received very coldly: it was considered that such a dusty, travel-soiledhandful of men, with so small and insignificant a leader, could not have the capacity to found a new Order, and that its Rule of Poverty, Obedience, and Chastity was unseemly and preposterous.
But when at length Francis was admitted to the Pope's presence, Innocent saw in the face of his suppliant something that pleaded too powerfully to be resisted, and, after a little more delay, against the advice of his worldly, pleasure-loving cardinals, he gave his sanction to the objectionable Rule, and named the new community, The Order of Brothers Minor.
They quitted Rome as soon as they could; they seem to have suffered much privation on their homeward journey, so that they were glad, as they approached Assisi, to find and take refuge in a small, empty dwelling at Rivo Torto, near the leper-house.
They established themselves here, but their number increased so rapidlythat they soon outgrew their quarters, and were shown that they were unwelcome guests.
When he found that he and his followers could no longer live by themselves at Rivo Torto, Francis went to Guido, the Bishop of Assisi, and begged to be allowed the use of an oratory, or of any chapel, in which he and his brethren could say the Hours of Prayer. He was told that no such building could be allotted him; and, almost weeping with earnestness and baffled hope, Francis climbed the side of Subasio till he reached, near the top, the abbey of the Benedictines. As this side of the great hill belonged to the Abbot, the kindly man, who seems to have fully sympathised with Francis, granted him the chapel of "the Little Portion of St. Mary," to have and to hold for his own.
At once the overjoyed Francis and his disciples, as has been said, set to work and built themselves huts to dwell in, near their place of worship.
Next to the rapidity with which the new Order made its way, its most remarkable feature was its social aspect.
In those days, when the haughty nobles and the still more haughty Church dignitaries seem to have ignored the existence of the peasantry, we find in the Franciscan brotherhood, from its beginning, a complete union of all classes. Its first four members were a canon, a nobleman, a rich merchant's son, and a labourer.
The Palazzo Scifi, in which the future Santa Chiara (the first member of the Second Order founded by St. Francis) was born, is only a very short distance from the church, afterwards built on the site of the old San Giorgio, and called, in memory of the Abbess of the Poor Clares, Santa Chiara.
On his return from Rome, when it became public talk that he had received tonsure, with the Pope's sanction to his Rule for the Order of Brothers Minor,—Frati Minori, as they werecalled,—Francis found himself in much higher favour with the Assisans.
Instead of the street preaching he and his Brothers had daily practised, he was offered the pulpit of San Giorgio; but that church was found too small for the multitudes who flocked to hear El Poverello, he was therefore invited to preach in the cathedral of San Rufino. This was considered a great honour, and it fixed public attention on the founder of the new brotherhood.
It was in San Rufino that this beautiful young girl, named Clara Scifi, daughter of the powerful Count Favorini Scifi, as despotic as he was powerful, heard the new preacher. Listening with rapt attention to these new doctrines of Poverty, Obedience, and Chastity for the love and glory of God, and in imitation of his life, the girl contrasted this teaching with the life lived around her. This new way, the way of the Cross, opened out to her a new revelation.
At that time, her father, a cruel and violent despot, had just laid his commands on her, his elder daughter, to wed a young noble of Assisi. While the girl listened to the saintly preacher, her heart and mind were deeply stirred; she determined to ask the Poverello's advice in her trouble. How could she follow out the purpose that had formed in her heart, that of leading the life he pictured, if she wedded the husband destined for her by her father. Her mother, the Lady Ortolana del Fiume, a daughter of the Fiumi, those hated enemies of the Baglioni of Perugia, and rivals of the Nepi of Assisi, was a devout and good woman. But Clara shrank from consulting her on this subject, lest she might breed discord between her parents; she therefore opened her heart to her aunt, Bianca Guelfucci, who seems fully to have sympathised with her niece's perplexity.
Francis was sorely troubled when thetrembling girl sought him out at the Portioncula, and begged him to advise her. He said she must not act rashly, she must prove the reality of her vocation before he could counsel her to take the veil, and thus withdraw herself from her parents' guardianship. He bade her wrap herself in a sackcloth robe, with a hood drawn over her head so as to conceal her face, and thus, clad like a mendicant, beg her bread from door to door through the town of Assisi. Clara did this secretly; but it only added to the fervent strength of her vocation, and finally Francis consented to her wish.
On the night of Palm Sunday the girl quitted the Scifi Palace, and, accompanied by her aunt Bianca Guelfucci and a waiting-maid, went rapidly out by the Porta Nuova, and across the starlit plain. As they drew near the little brown chapel, surrounded by a thick wood, they heard the Brothers of the Poor chanting a Psalm, and,waiting till this had ceased, the trembling Clara knocked on the door and asked leave to enter.
Francis bade her come in, and he questioned her a little, then bade her kneel; she obeyed, and took the vows he prescribed, after which he cut off all her golden hair and laid it as an offering on the altar. When her companion had wrapped her in the veil and sackcloth garment of the Order, El Poverello led her and her aunt, through the dark night, to the way they had to follow to reach the convent of the nuns of San Paolo, about an hour's distance from Assisi. He told her that she would there be safe from persecution.
This Second Order of Franciscans was called, when Clara had established herself at San Damiano, the Sisterhood of "the Poor Clares." Her sister Agnes soon joined Clara, provoking the stormy displeasure of her father and her uncle, who was savagely cruel in his treatment of this young girl. Thechurch of Santa Chiara was built after Clara's death by Fra Campello, in red and cream-coloured marble. It has a graceful campanile, and the flying buttresses are very remarkable; they spring completely across the pathway beside the church.
The building was begun in the year after Santa Clara's death, but the nuns remained at San Damiano for fifteen years longer; then the body of their foundress was removed to Santa Chiara, and they took up their abode in the convent adjoining the church. There are interesting pictures in this fine building, especially in the chapel of San Giorgio, and by this date the chapel probably contains the famous and very ancient crucifix brought here from San Damiano, before which Francis was kneeling when he heard the voice bidding him rebuild the ruined houses of God. This crucifix was, I think, when we saw it, in the convent of Santa Chiara, but we heardthat it would be placed by the altar of the chapel.
Santa Chiara was built on the site of the old church, San Giorgio, the first burial-place of Francis, but it is not clear how much of the original edifice was spared by Fra Campello when he designed the new building; there is much mention of the older church in theLife of Francis Bernardone. Clara was buried in the chapel of San Giorgio, but her tomb there was not discovered till 1850.
There was great rejoicing in the town at this discovery; her remains were carried through Assisi with much splendour of ceremonial, and were followed by an immense procession. The coffin was reburied in a crypt made to receive it in front of the high altar, reached by a double flight of steps. The public are permitted to go down to view the body of the saint in a glass case; candles are ever burning before it.
We did not, however, visit the crypt, and our gentle-faced conductress seemed surprised by our lack of devotion.
When we set out to visit San Damiano, and again passed by the church of Santa Chiara, we noticed the contrast of colour between the rose-tinted church and the brown convent walls.
We followed the road till it reached a gate on the brow of the hill. Here is a lovely view over rugged hill and fertile valley, wilder and more picturesque than any we saw from Perugia. A breeze had sprung up; now and again a light purple cloud-shadow varied the rosy tint of Subasio, already darkened in places by ravines that gaped in his rugged side, while the glint of a mountain rill showed here and there like a stray gem on the grassy tufts that helped to mark its course. Leaving the gate, we went down the steep descent on the right, between silvery veils, the deep valleys being clothedwith olive-groves; their pale leaves gleamed in the sunshine against bright green berries, and ancient trunks so gnarled and shrunken that we wondered at the abundant crop of fruit overhead. Huge brown patches glowed like velvet on these grey trunks; and through the silver veil we saw ranges of hills in varied shades of blue, a more delicate tint indicating the valleys that lay between them.
There was not anywhere a hope of shade, unless we climbed the bank and walked on the rough ground under the olive-trees, but these did not grow closely enough to give shelter worth having, and the road under foot being fairly smooth, we trudged downhill in the sunshine.
The way proved longer than we expected. At last, concealed among trees, we found San Damiano.
We rang a bell beside the entrance; after a long pause, our summons was answered by a beautiful youngFranciscan, who showed us about very courteously. He first took us into the quaint little chapel, and pointed out an ancient crucifix; he told us how an angel had come during the night, and had carved the unfinished head of the figure. He showed us on the right of the entrance the hole below the window into which St. Francis flung the money gained at Foligno by the sale of his possessions; also, he showed the little cracked bell with which Santa Chiara summoned her Sisters to prayer.
It is interesting to learn that, though she ran away from her father's house at night to adopt a religious life, Clara's mother, the Lady Ortolana, after Count Scifi's death, was received into the Second Order, and joined the community under her daughter's rule, then called the Poor Ladies of San Damiano.
Behind the little chapel is the choir of the nuns, left just as it was when Santa Chiara died. The refectory on the otherside of the cloisters is also unaltered, and above it is the dormitory of the nuns; at the end is Clara's cell. Every step makes the poetic history more real. There is still the little garden in which this sweet, brave woman took daily exercise, and tended the flowers she so dearly loved.
When we came out we found the artist of our party sketching. Beside him was a small boy about seven years old, a curiosity as to clothing. He had on part of some ragged knee-breeches, the remains of a shirt, and a portion of a straw hat; he seemed a bright, intelligent little fellow. He was very much interested in the sketch, and delighted to be talked to in his own language. Between his praises he held out a grimy little hand, in a saucy, smiling way.
Said the artist, "How much would you like, my man,—would a hundred lire suit you?"
The urchin grinned all over. "Si,Signore, I should much like a hundred lire, but I would take less!"
We went back up the olive-bordered hills to the pleasant little inn, which seems to hang over the lovely valley behind the house. Just before reaching Hotel Subasio there is a picturesque view looking upwards, the great convent and churches of San Francesco towering above us.
Even apart from the touching interest with which the story of St. Francis invests the little town, Assisi is delightful, so many churches and religious houses exist there, full of picturesque charm is the exquisite setting of landscape beyond and around them.
Wherever one looks between the old grey houses, one sees the valley full of rich colour, and the far-off, softened outlines of the hills. The town on market-days is very bright and cheerful.
It is a steep climb up to the old grey castle, the Rocca di Assisi; it sits there crowning the hill like a falcon in itseyrie, the little town beneath its feet; and what a wonderful prospect it dominates!
To the west is Perugia, on its group of hills; eastward glistens many another town, sometimes sheltered in a hollow of the hills, sometimes standing out as Foligno does on the plain beyond.
Behind the castle there is the wildest of ravines; Monte Subasio is full of strange nooks and glens, of which the most interesting is that of Le Carceri, the group of cells built in the mountain caves by Francis and his brethren. He retired here for prayer and penance when he found his life at the Portioncula distracting. Close by is the little mountain stream of the Tescio, and the ilex-wood in which Francis held discourse with the nightingale.
In thinking and writing about St. Francis, one forgets the history of Assisi. Till the Roman invasion of Umbria, this history seems chiefly traditional. Dardanus is said to have built Assisibefore he built Troy; in consequence of a dream that came to him while he lay sleeping on the slope of Subasio, he founded the famous Temple of Minerva, and the city grew up round it.
Goethe greatly displeased the Assisans by journeying to their city only to see this temple; he passed by San Francesco without so much as entering the church.
The number of subterranean passages leading to the Rocca from all parts of the town seems to prove that the little city greatly needed shelter from surrounding foes.
From the time that the Etruscans possessed themselves of a large part of Umbria, and built the city of Perugia, Assisi was constantly persecuted by this powerful neighbour, till the Romans overspread the country, conquering the Etruscans, and the grim, hitherto unconquered city of Perugia, burning most of it to the ground.
In the Middle Ages, Assisi had frequently to submit to the despotismof great leaders of Condottieri and others who bore rule in Perugia,—Galeazzo Visconti, Biordo Michelotti, Forte Braccio of Montone, Nicola Piccinino, Sforza, and others. Before these, however, Charlemagne is said to have taken the city and utterly destroyed it. After its destruction, the citizens built walls around their new town, they also built the castle on the hilltop. This was at one time occupied by Frederick Barbarossa, and then by Conrad of Suabia and other despots.
The two noble houses of the Fiumi and the Nepi, one being Guelph and the other Ghibelline, though less bloodthirsty than the Baglioni and the Oddi of Perugia, seem to have been constantly at strife till the advent of St. Francis, who prevailed on them to live more peaceably.
Later on there was again terrible strife and carnage in Assisi, and when his lordship the Magnifico Gianpaolo Baglione took upon himself to settlematters, famine and misery almost destroyed the inhabitants of the brave little city. Miss Lina Duff Gordon, in the chapter called "War and Strife" of her charmingStory of Assisi, gives a vivid account of this siege.
It is better, perhaps, after visiting Chiesa Nuova, to go next to St. Mary of the Angels at the foot of the hill, instead of visiting San Francesco, the saint's memorial church; for at the Portioncula, within the walls of Santa Maria, Francis lived and worked and died. Most of the Brothers whose names have come down to us were received into the Order within the walls of the little chapel.
The vast baldness of Santa Maria's nave, rebuilt less than a hundred years ago, in consequence of the damage caused by an earthquake, was veryuninteresting, but at the east end is the brown Portioncula, the home of Francis and of his first followers; for the little chapel remained uninjured when the earthquake shattered the walls of the outer church.
The dark walls of the Portioncula are covered with votive offerings, and over the entrance is a fresco by Overbeck. Looking within, it is difficult to imagine how the events recorded in theFioretticould have found room to happen in the tiny place.
On the right is a chapel, the site of the cell of St. Francis; his portrait is over the altar, and there are frescoes of his companions. Our guide, a Franciscan, looked as if he had come direct from the thirteenth century, but he had not brought thence the warm, loving glow that must have radiated from the founder of his Order.
The great interest of the place is its story. The Portioncula was a well-known shrine, and had existed for yearsbefore Francis restored it from its ruinous condition. It has been told how, when he was a child, the saint was often taken by his mother to the little chapel, and prayed there beside her. Two years after he renounced his home and his father, Francis was kneeling here in prayer when he received his second inspiration. According to his biographers, he hastily rose, and, taking up a bit of cord near at hand, tied it round his waist, as the outward badge of the Order of Poor Brethren.
Our guide's scanty hair stood erect, and his red-veined blue eyes stared at us, as the Gorgons did in the Etruscan tomb. At first he would scarcely speak. He may have thought heretics would not appreciate his information. When we came to the little rose-garden outside the Chapel of the Roses, and talked to him about flowers, he thawed; he told us how an unbelieving English traveller had begged a rose-tree, so that he might try it in English soil,and how next year the Englishman had written to say that the rose-tree was covered with thorns; whereas at Santa Maria degli Angeli, these roses, brought here from St. Benedict's monastery near Subiaco, have been thornless ever since the day when St. Francis carried the original bushes from the Benedictine garden at Il Sacro Speco, and planted them here.
Our guide said we ought to pay our next visit when the roses were in blossom, "a sight to be met with in no other place." He took us into a chapel, where, under the altar, is the den into which the saint retired for penance—a most wretched hole; then we went into the sacristy, to see a Perugino. In another little chapel is the portrait of El Poverello, a very remarkable face, painted on a plank which once formed part of the saint's bed. There is a terra-cotta statue of him by Andrea della Robbia.
We went back to the church, and looked again at the Portioncula. In itClara, or Chiara, took the vows, and here her beautiful hair was shorn from her head by St. Francis. Other memories of Santa Chiara cling about this church of Santa Maria. Perhaps the Third, or universal, Order was here determined on. The space outside has never been built on, because it was here that the memorable meeting took place between Clara and St. Francis, in answer to her repeated petitions that they might eat bread together. The meeting is very quaintly described inI Fioretti. Clara had often asked for this privilege; this time the Brothers seconded her request, and Francis granted it. He had, as soon as was possible, obtained for her the little church of San Damiano, and had built up little huts beside it for her and the poor ladies, who so soon joined her community. Clara passed the rest of her life among the Sisters, and died Abbess of the "Poor Clares" of San Damiano.
The community of Brethren met on the open space twice yearly; the great chapter of the Order convened by St. Francis eleven years after its beginning, recorded in theFioretti, took place on this vacant ground. The number of the brethren must have increased very rapidly, for several thousands came over the hills and along the valleys from far-off parts of Italy to look their founder in the face, and to receive his instructions and his blessing. Among others came San Dominic, with some of his followers, and the Bishop of Ostia, Cardinal Ugolino, afterwards Pope GregoryIX.
The space occupied by Santa Maria must have been covered by the village of huts built by St. Francis and his Brothers. In an old map, these huts are shown built at regular distances on three sides of the Portioncula; among them is one larger than the rest, probably the Refectory or the Infirmary of the Brothers. Doubtless they lived here ahappy family life, though Francis began early to send them out to found branches of the Order in other directions. The first sent away from the nest-like home was Bernard of Quintavalle, to Bologna; here he had to suffer insult and persecution, but he soon won many converts by his preaching, and established a community of Brothers Minor in that city, over which Francis appointed him guardian. This enterprise was repeated over and over again, with success, till, in his hunger after souls, several years later, El Poverello set forth with a couple of Brothers to Damietta to convert the Soldan, who is said to have permitted him to visit the Holy Sepulchre. His visit failed in its object, but it is spoken of by Jacques de Vitry, Bishop of Acre, as a fact.
He was never tired of exhorting his brethren to live joyfully, so as to make others happy. Their cares and the sorrow for sin which would from time to time beset them, they should, hetold them, pour out to God in their prayers; he also exhorted them to live always according to the Rule of the Order.
The Popes seem to have troubled him by their persistent efforts to persuade him to alter the extreme simplicity of this Rule, and to assimilate his teaching with that of the other Orders. But St. Francis, always most humble and gentle in his denials, pleaded so earnestly and so sweetly for the original lines on which he had begun, that he succeeded in gaining his point both with Innocent the Third, and his successor Honorius. Even his dear friend Ugolino, the Cardinal Bishop of Ostia, tried hard, when he succeeded to the Papacy as Pope Gregory the Ninth, to convince El Poverello that union with the Dominican Order would be a gain to the Church, but the saint's sweet humility at last conquered Ugolino. These discussions, however, which made needful journeys to and from Rome,involved much loss of time, as well as mental weariness, and wore out his decreasing strength.
He was, after a time, constantly suffering, but always cheerful and uncomplaining. His greatest trial seems to have been the tendency he saw, especially in the more recent converts, to relax the strictness of the Rule in regard to Poverty; when he heard, during a journey which would take him past Bologna, that larger and more comfortable houses had been built for the Brethren there, he at once showed his displeasure by passing by the city without stopping to greet the Franciscans therein.
He always returned with fresh joy to the Portioncula, and his life there with his dear sons; a hard life, supported by the work of their own hands.
The gentle saint seems to have had plenty of dignity when called on to rebuke a wrongful act; we see this in his dealings with one of his early converts, Brother Juniper, that delightfullysimple but most indiscreet of the Minor Brothers, yet of whom Francis said, after pondering on his simplicity and patience in the hour of trial:
"Would to God that I had a whole forest of such Junipers."
Indeed, on that day Brother Juniper was in sad disgrace with the other monks. He was visiting a sick Brother, and, being afire with the love of God, asked the sick man with much compassion, "Can I do thee any service?"
Replied the sick man:
"Much comfort would it give me if thou couldst get me a pig's trotter."
Straightway cried Brother Juniper:
"Leave that to me; you shall have one directly."
So he went and took a knife from the kitchen, and in fervour of spirit ran through the wood in which certain pigs were feeding; he threw himself on one of them, cut off its foot and ran away. Returning to the house, he washed and dressed and cooked the foot; andwhen, with much diligence, he had prepared it, he brought the foot right lovingly to the sick man.
And the sick man ate it up greedily, to the great comfort and delight of Brother Juniper, who with glee told his invalid how he had made assault upon the pig.
Meanwhile the swineherd, who saw Brother Juniper cut off the foot, went and told all the story to his lord, who, when he was ware of it, came to the house of the Brothers, crying out that they were hypocrites and thieves and knaves.
"Why have ye cut off my pig's foot?" he shouted.
At the noise he made, St. Francis and the Brothers came out, and with all humility the saint made excuses, and promised to make reparation for the outrage.
But for all that he was no whit appeased, but with much insult and threats went away from the Brothers, full of anger.
And St. Francis bethought him, and said within his heart, "Can Brother Juniper in his indiscreet zeal have done this thing?"
He called Juniper to him secretly, and said:
"Didst thou cut off the foot of a pig in the wood?"
Whereat Brother Juniper, not as if he had committed a crime, but as if he had done a deed of charity, answered cheerfully:
"It is true, dear Father, I cut off that pig's foot. Touching the reason why, I went out of charity to visit a sick Brother." He then narrated the facts, and added, "I tell thee, Father, that, considering the comfort given by the said foot to our Brother, if I had cut off the feet of a hundred pigs as I did of one, in very sooth methinks God would have said, 'Well done.'"
Whereat St. Francis said very severely, and with righteous zeal:
"Brother Juniper, why hast thoucaused so great a scandal? Not without reason doth this man complain of us; he is perhaps already noising it in the city. Wherefore I command thee, by thy obedience, that thou run after him till thou come up with him, and throw thyself on the ground, and confess thy fault, promising to make such satisfaction that he may have no cause to complain of us, for of a truth this has been too grievous an offence."
Brother Juniper marvelled much at the words, being surprised that anyone should be angry at so charitable a deed. He answered:
"Doubt not, Father, that I will straightway pacify him; why should he be so disquieted, seeing that this pig was rather God's than his, and that great charity hath been done thereby?"
Francis was constantly journeying about, preaching in all the villages through which they passed, as well as in the castles which frowned down on them, founding new houses of theOrder in and near the larger towns; he travelled great distances, and carried everywhere with him the element of joy, showing it forth in the lovely hymns which he and his Brothers carolled along the high-road to lighten the fatigue of their journeys.
Reading theFioretti, one feels intimately acquainted with several of the Brothers Minor,—with gentle Fra Leone, "the little sheep of God"; with Fra Rufino, styled by Francis "one of the three most holy souls in the world"; with Fra Masseo, who seems, in one recorded instance, to have affected incredulity in regard to the saint's humility.
In those days the Portioncula and its village were surrounded by a wood, and St. Francis often said his prayers therein; one day as he came from them, he was met at the entrance of the wood by Fra Masseo of Marignano, a man of much sanctity, discretion, and grace, for the which cause St. Francis loved him much.
Said Masseo, "Why to thee? Why to thee? Why to thee?"
Quoth Francis, "What is thy meaning?"
Brother Masseo answered:
"I say, why doth all the world come straight to thee? and why do all men long to see thee, to hear thee, and obey thee? Thou art not a man comely to look at, thou hast not much learning, thou art not noble: whence is it, then, that to thee the whole world comes?"
Hearing this, St. Francis, all overjoyed in spirit, lifting up his face to Heaven, stood for a great while wrapped in meditation.
Anon returning to himself again, he knelt him down, and rendered thanks and praises unto God; and then with great fervour of spirit he turned him to Brother Masseo, and said:
"Wilt thou know why to me? Wilt thou know why to me? Wilt thou know why to me the whole world doth run? This cometh unto me from theeyes of the most High God, which behold in every place the evil and the good: for those most holy eyes have seen among sinners none more vile, none more lacking, no worse sinner than I.... Therefore hath He chosen me to confound the nobleness and the strength and the greatness and the beauty and wisdom of the world, to the intent that men may know that all virtue and all goodness come from Him, and not from the creature, and that no man may glory in himself; but whoso will glory may glory in the Lord."
He often told his Brothers they must never forsake the Portioncula, which he and they also so dearly loved. But his strength was almost spent, and when he was only forty-two, two years before his death, he appointed Brother Bernard vicar-general of the Order, so that he might give himself up more completely to meditation and prayer before the end came.
He had founded a community nearRome, and appointed a good and discreet Guardian thereto; but this Brother seems to have had some difficulty in controlling the outbreaks of Brother Juniper, who had been sent to this Roman home.
There came a time when all the other Brethren had to go out.
Quoth the Guardian, "Brother Juniper, we are all going out; see to it that when we return you have cooked a little food for the refreshment of the Brothers."
Replied Brother Juniper, "Right willingly; leave that to me."
Said Brother Juniper to himself, "It is a pity that one Brother should always have to be in the kitchen, instead of saying prayers with the rest. Of a surety, now that I am left behind to cook, I will make ready so much food that all the Brothers will have enough for a fortnight, and the cook will have less to do."
So he went with all diligence into the country, and begged several large cookingpots; he got also meat, fowls, eggs, vegetables, and firewood in plenty; then he put all the eatables in the pots to cook, to wit, the fowls with their feathers on, the eggs in their shells, and so with the rest.
After a while the Brothers came back to the home, and one of them going to the kitchen, saw many great pots on an enormous fire; he sat him down and looked on with amazement, but said nothing, watching the care with which Brother Juniper did his cooking, and how he hurried from one pot to the other. Having watched it all with great delight, the Brother left the kitchen, and, finding the other Friars, said to them:
"I have to tell you Brother Juniper is making a marriage feast." But the Brothers took his word as a jest.
Presently Brother Juniper lifted the pots from the fire, and rang the dinner bell. The Brothers sat down to table, and he came into the refectory with his dishes, red-faced with his exertions.
Quoth he, "Eat well, and then let us all go and pray: no one need think of the kitchen for a while; I have cooked enough food for a fortnight."
And Brother Juniper set his stew on the table. But there is not a pig in the whole countryside that would have partaken of it.
Then Juniper, seeing that the Brothers did not eat thereof, said:
"These fowls are strengthening for the brain, and this stew is so good it will refresh the body." But while the Brothers were full of wonder at his simplicity, the Guardian was wroth with the waste of so much good food, and reproved him roughly.
Then Brother Juniper threw himself on the ground and humbly confessed his fault, saying, "I am the worst of men."
After this he went sorrowfully out of the refectory. The Guardian, touched by his humility, asked the Brethren to be kind to Juniper, who had, with good intentions, erred through ignorance.
Such pity had Brother Juniper for the poor, that when he saw anyone ill-clad or naked he would at once take off his tunic, and the cowl of his cloak, and give it to the beggar.
Wherefore the Guardian commanded him that he should give to no poor person his tunic or any part of his habit.
Now it happened that a few days after, he met a poor man half-naked, who asked alms for the love of God.
"I have nothing," quoth he, "I could give thee save my tunic, and my Superior hath enjoined me not to give it to anyone, but if thou take it off my back I will not say thee nay."
He spoke not to the deaf, for straightway the poor man pulled his tunic off his back and went away with it.
And when Brother Juniper returned to the house, and was asked what had become of his tunic, he answered—
"A poor man took it off my back and went away with it." His charity had become incessant.
More than once our gentle saint had visited La Vernia, a bleak and rugged mountain some four thousand feet above the Casentino valley. On these occasions, his friend the Count Orlando Cattani of Chiusi, had caused a hut to be built for him near the hilltop. On this last visit, Francis felt a pressing need of solitude, so that he might more entirely give himself to prayer. He took with him the three men who are said to have written the charming sketch of him, called, in the French version of it,La Légende des trois Compagnons, Fra Leone, Fra Masseo, and Fra Angelo.
When they had travelled for two days, Francis became so weak he could go no farther, so the Brothers found a peasant with an ass, and persuaded him to lend it to their teacher. In doing this they gave his name, Francis of Assisi.
The peasant was greatly impressed, for, throughout Italy and beyond, this name was a name of power; some wayup the mountain of La Vernia, or, as it is also called, Alvernia, the peasant leading the ass said to its rider:
"I hear that you are Francis of Assisi; well, then, I will give you a bit of advice: Try to be as good as people say you are, and then they will not be deceived in you."
For answer Francis scrambled down from the ass's back, and, kneeling before the amazed peasant, he thanked him with all his heart and soul for his counsel.
There is a plateau at the hilltop surrounded by pines and huge beech-trees, but before reaching this the whole party was so exhausted by the long climb in the heat of August sunshine, that they sat down to rest beneath the spreading branches of an oak-tree. The birds, accustomed to live in solitude, came fluttering round them, and settled especially on the shoulders and head of St. Francis.
When they reached the top, Francis bade his companions stay in their customaryrefuge while he went on by himself. He seems to have stayed alone, in a shelter contrived by the Brothers, for forty days, during which Fra Leone brought every night and morning some bread and water, which he left at the door of the refuge. A falcon used to tap at the door at dawn to awaken St. Francis. He is said to have received the vision of the Stigmata here on Michaelmas Day, and soon afterwards, leaving two of the Brothers in charge of the retreat on the mount, he took a touching leave of them, and of the place itself. He thanked the birds who had so lovingly welcomed his arrival, and especially Brother Falcon, as he termed it, for his daily summons.
He then took his way, on horseback this time, with as little delay as possible, accompanied by his devoted Leo, till he reached the Portioncula, sorely exhausted and full of pain. Still he was bent on starting at once for the south, and seeking to win fresh souls for Christ.His strength rapidly decreased, and his sight had begun to fail him. He was advised to make a journey to Rieti, where Pope Honorius, being driven out of Rome, was then staying, The Pope had with him a famous doctor, who it was hoped might cure St. Francis. But he had not much faith in earthly remedies, and declined to go to Rieti; when, however, St. Clare and some of the Brethren pressed him to spend a little time of rest and refreshment at San Damiano, he was glad to go there.
Though he was in constant suffering, he seems really to have enjoyed this visit. Saint Clare had caused a willow hut to be built for him in her garden, and though at night rats and mice tormented him, his joyousness and his poetic power returned with their early vigour; for it was during these weeks of peaceful outer life, though blind, and suffering from hæmorrhage of the lungs, that he composed his famous Canticle.
It happened that one day, while seated at table in the refectory of San Damiano, before the meal began, Francis seemed all at once to be wrapped in a kind of ecstasy. When he roused from this, and became fully conscious, he exclaimed, "May God be praised!"
He had just composed the Canticle of the Sun.