Life of St. Francis of Assisi Part 39

Praise ye and bless the Lord, and give thanks unto him and serve him with great humility.

Joy had returned to Francis, joy as deep as ever. For a whole week he forsook his breviary and pa.s.sed his days in repeating the Canticle of the Sun.

During a night of sleeplessness he had heard a voice saying to him, "If thou hadst faith as a grain of mustard seed, thou wouldst say to this mountain, 'Be thou removed from there,' and it would move away." Was not the mountain that of his sufferings, the temptation to murmur and despair? "Be it, Lord, according to thy word," he had replied with all his heart, and immediately he had felt that he was delivered.[20]

He might have perceived that the mountain had not greatly changed its place, but for several days he had turned his eyes away from it, he had been able to forget its existence.

For a moment he thought of summoning to his side Brother Pacifico, the King of Verse, to retouch his canticle; his idea was to attach to him a certain number of friars, who would go with him from village to village, preaching. After the sermon they would sing the Hymn of the Sun; and they were to close by saying to the crowd gathered around them in the public places, "We are G.o.d's jugglers. We desire to be paid for our sermon and our song. Our payment shall be that you persevere in penitence."[21]

"Is it not in fact true," he would add, "that the servants of G.o.d are really like jugglers, intended to revive the hearts of men and lead them into spiritual joy?"

The Francis of the old raptures had come back, the layman, the poet, the artist.

The Canticle of the Creatures is very n.o.ble: it lacks, however, one strophe; if it was not upon Francis's lips, it was surely in his heart:

Be praised, Lord, for Sister Clara; thou hast made her silent, active, and sagacious, and by her thy light s.h.i.+nes in our hearts.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Thirty-sixth and last strophe of the song

_Amor de caritade Perche m' hai si ferito?_

found in the collection of St. Francis's works.

[2] By the Abbe Amoni, at the close of his edition of the Fioretti, Rome, 1 vol., 12mo, 1889, pp. 390-392. We can but once more regret the silence of the editor as to the ma.n.u.script whence he has drawn these charming pages. Certain indications seem unfavorable to the author having written it before the second half of the thirteenth century; on the other hand, the object of a forgery is not evident. An apochryphal piece always betrays itself by some interested purpose, but here the story is of an infantine simplicity.

[3] 2 Cel., 3, 104; Bon., 119; _Fior. ii. consid._

[4] _Parti san Francesco per Monte-Acuto prendendo la via di Monte-Arcoppe e del foresto._ This road from the Verna to Borgo San-Sepolero is far from being the shortest or the easiest, for instead of leading directly to the plain it lingers for long hours among the hills. Is not all Francis in this choice?

[5] 2 Cel., 3, 41; Bon., 141; _Fior. iv. consid._

[6] 1 Cel., 63 and 64; _Fior. iv. consid._

[7] 1 Cel., 70; _Fior. iv. consid._

[8] 1 Cel., 109; 69; Bon. 208. Perhaps we must refer to this circuit the visit to Celano. 2 Cel., 3, 30; _Spec._, 22; Bon., 156 and 157.

[9] 1 Cel., 97 and 98; 2 Cel., 3, 137; Bon., 205 and 206.

[10] Richard of St. Germano, _ann. 1225_. Cf. Potthast, 7400 ff.

[11] 1 Cel., 98 and 99; 2 Cel., 3, 137; _Fior._, 19.

[12] 2 Cel., 3, 110; Rule of 1221, _cap._ 10.

[13] See the reference to the sources after the Canticle of the Sun.

[14] 2 Cel., 3, 138.

[15] This incident appeared to the authors so peculiar that they emphasized it with an _ut oculis videmus_. 2 Cel., 3, 67; _Spec._, 119a.

[16] _Spec._, 123a; 2 Cel., 3, 58.

[17] I have combined Celano's narrative with that of the Conformities. The details given in the latter doc.u.ment appear to me entirely worthy of faith. It is easy to see, however, why Celano omitted them, and it would be difficult to explain how they could have been later invented. 2 Cel., 3, 138; _Conform._, 42b, 2; 119b, 1; 184b, 2; 239a, 2; _Spec._, 123a ff.; _Fior._, 19.

[18] After the a.s.sisan MS., 338, f^o 33a. Vide p. 354. Father Panfilo da Magliano has already published it after this ma.n.u.script: _Storia compendiosa di San Francesco_, Rome, 2 vols., 18mo, 1874-1876. The Conformities, 202b, 2-203a 1, give a version of it which differs from this only by insignificant variations. The learned philologue Monaci has established a very remarkable critical text in his _Crestomazia italiana dei primi secoli_. Citta di Castello, fas. i., 1889, 8vo, pp. 29-31. This thoroughly scrupulous work dispenses me from indicating ma.n.u.scripts and editions more at length.

[19] Matthew Arnold, Essays in Criticism, First Series.

Macmillan & Company, 1883.

[20] 2 Cel., 3, 58; _Spec._, 123a.

[21] _Spec._, 124a. Cf. _Miscellanea_ (1889), iv., p. 88.

CHAPTER XIX

THE LAST YEAR

September, 1225-End of September, 1226

What did Ugolini think when they told him that Francis was planning to send his friars, transformed into _Joculatores Domini_, to sing up and down the country the Canticle of Brother Sun? Perhaps he never heard of it. His _protege_ finally decided to accept his invitation and left St.

Damian in the course of the month of September.

The landscape which lies before the eyes of the traveller from a.s.sisi, when he suddenly emerges upon the plain of Rieti, is one of the most beautiful in Europe. From Terni the road follows the sinuous course of the Velino, pa.s.ses not far from the famous cascades, whose clouds of mist are visible, and then plunges into the defiles in whose depths the torrent rushes noisily, choked by a vegetation as luxuriant as that of a virgin forest. On all sides uprise walls of perpendicular rocks, and on their crests, several hundred yards above your head, are feudal fortresses, among others the Castle of Miranda, more giddy, more fantastic than any which Gustave Dore's fancy ever dreamed.

After four hours of walking, the defile opens out and you find yourself without transition in a broad valley, sparkling with light.

Rieti, the only city in this plain of several leagues, appears far away at the other extremity, commanded by hills of a thoroughly tropical aspect, behind which rise the mighty Apennines, almost always covered with snow.

The highway goes directly toward this town, pa.s.sing between tiny lakes; here and there roads lead off to little villages which you see, on the hillside, between the cultivated fields and the edge of the forests; there are Stroncone, Greccio, Cantalice, Poggio-Buscone, and ten other small towns, which have given more saints to the Church than a whole province of France.

Between the inhabitants of the district and their neighbors of Umbria, properly so called, the difference is extreme. They are all of the striking type of the Sabine peasants, and they remain to this day entire strangers to new customs. One is born a Capuchin there as elsewhere one is born a soldier, and the traveller needs to have his wits about him not to address every man he meets as Reverend Father.

Francis had often gone over this district in every direction. Like its neighbor, the hilly March of Ancona, it was peculiarly prepared to receive the new gospel. In these hermitages, with their almost impossible simplicity, perched near the villages on every side, without the least care for material comfort, but always where there is the widest possible view, was perpetuated a race of Brothers Minor, impa.s.sioned, proud, stubborn, almost wild, who did not wholly understand their master, who did not catch his exquisite simplicity, his impossibility of hating, his dreams of social and political renovation, his poetry and delicacy, but who did understand the lover of nature and of poverty.[1] They did more than understand him; they lived his life, and from that Christmas festival observed in the woods of Greccio down to to-day they have remained the simple and popular representatives of the Strict Observance. From them comes to us the Legend of the Three Companions, the most life-like and true of all the portraits of the Poverello, and it was there, in a cell three paces long, that Giovanni di Parma had his apocalyptic visions.

The news of Francis's arrival quickly spread, and long before he reached Rieti the population had come out to meet him.

To avoid this noisy welcome he craved the hospitality of the priest of St. Fabian. This little church, now known under the name of Our Lady of the Forest, is somewhat aside from the road upon a gra.s.sy mound about a league from the city. He was heartily welcomed, and desiring to remain there for a little, prelates and devotees began to flock thither in the next few days.

It was the time of the early grapes. It is easy to imagine the disquietude of the priest on perceiving the ravages made by these visitors among his vines, his best source of revenue, but he probably exaggerated the damage. Francis one day heard him giving vent to his bad humor. "Father," he said, "it is useless for you to disturb yourself for what you cannot hinder; but, tell me, how much wine do you get on an average?"