CHAPTER V
FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE
Spring of 1209—Summer of 1210
- 71 -The very next morning Francis went up to Assisi and began to preach. His
words were simple, but they came so straight from the heart that all who
heard him were touched.
It is not easy to hear and apply to one's self the exhortations of
preachers who, aloft in the pulpit, seem to be carrying out a mere
formality; it is just as difficult to escape from the appeals of a
layman who walks at our side. The amazing multitude of Protestant sects
is due in a great degree to this superiority of lay preaching over
clerical. The most brilliant orators of the Christian pulpit are bad
converters; their eloquent appeals may captivate the imagination and
lead a few men of the world to the foot of the altar, but these results
are not more brilliant than ephemeral. But let a peasant or a workingman
speak to those whom he meets a few simple words going directly to the
conscience, and the man is always impressed, often won.
Thus the words of Francis seemed to his hearers like a flaming sword
penetrating to the very depths of their conscience. His first attempts
were the simplest possible; in general they were merely a few words
addressed to men whom he knew well enough to recognize their weak points
and strike at them with the holy boldness of love.- 72 - His person, his
example, were themselves a sermon, and he spoke only of that which he
had himself experienced, proclaiming repentance, the shortness of life,
a future retribution, the necessity of arriving at gospel
perfection.1 It is not easy to realize how many waiting souls there
are in this world. The greater number of men pass through life with
souls asleep. They are like virgins of the sanctuary who sometimes feel
a vague agitation; their hearts throb with an infinitely sweet and
subtile thrill, but their eyelids droop; again they feel the damp cold
of the cloister creeping over them; the delicious but baneful dream
vanishes; and this is all they ever know of that love which is stronger
than death.
It is thus with many men for all that belongs to the higher life.
Sometimes, alone in the wide plain at the hour of twilight, they fix
their eyes on the fading lights of the horizon, and on the evening
breeze comes to them another breath, more distant, fainter, and almost
heavenly, awaking in them a nostalgia for the world beyond and for
holiness. But the darkness falls, they must go back to their homes; they
shake off their reverie; and it often happens that to the very end of
life this is their only glimpse of the Divine; a few sighs, a few
thrills, a few inarticulate murmurs—this sums up all our efforts to
attain to the sovereign good.
Yet the instinct for love and for the divine is only slumbering. At the
sight of beauty love always awakes; at the appeal of holiness the divine
witness within us at once responds; and so we see, streaming from all
points of the horizon to gather around those who preach in the name of
the inward voice, long processions of souls athirst for the ideal. The
human heart so naturally yearns to offer itself up, that we have only to
meet along- 73 - our pathway some one who, doubting neither himself nor us,
demands it without reserve, and we yield it to him at once. Reason may
understand a partial gift, a transient devotion; the heart knows only
the entire sacrifice, and like the lover to his beloved, it says to its
vanquisher, "Thine alone and forever."
That which has caused the miserable failure of all the efforts of
natural religion is that its founders have not had the courage to lay
hold upon the hearts of men, consenting to no partition. They have not
understood the imperious desire for immolation which lies in the depths
of every soul, and souls have taken their revenge in not heeding these
too lukewarm lovers.
Francis had given himself up too completely not to claim from others an
absolute self-renunciation. In the two years and more since he had
quitted the world, the reality and depth of his conversion had shone out
in the sight of all; to the scoffings of the early days had gradually
succeeded in the minds of many a feeling closely akin to admiration.
This feeling inevitably provokes imitation. A man of Assisi, hardly
mentioned by the biographers, had attached himself to Francis. He was
one of those simple-hearted men who find life beautiful enough so long
as they can be with him who has kindled the divine spark- 74 -2 in their
hearts. His arrival at Portiuncula gave Francis a suggestion; from that
time he dreamed of the possibility of bringing together a few companions
with whom he could carry on his apostolic mission in the neighborhood.
At Assisi he had often enjoyed the hospitality of a rich and prominent
man named Bernardo di Quintavalle,3 who took him to sleep in his own
chamber; it is easy to see how such an intimacy would favor confidential
outpourings. When in the silence of the early night an ardent and
enthusiastic soul pours out to you its disappointments, wounds, dreams,
hopes, faith, it is difficult indeed not to be carried along, especially
when the apostle has a secret ally in your soul, and unconsciously meets
your most secret aspirations.
One day Bernardo begged Francis to pass the following night with him, at
the same time giving him to understand that he was about to make a grave
resolution upon which he desired to consult him. The joy of Francis was
great indeed as he divined his intentions. They passed the night without
thinking of sleep; it was a long communion of souls. Bernardo had
decided to distribute his goods to the poor and cast in his lot with
Francis. The latter desired his friend to pass through a sort of
initiation, pointing out to him that what he himself- 75 - practised, what he
preached, was not his own invention, but that Jesus himself had
expressly ordained it in his word.
At early dawn they bent their steps to the St. Nicholas Church,
accompanied by another neophyte named Pietro, and there, after praying
and hearing mass, Francis opened the Gospels that lay on the altar and
read to his companions the portion which had decided his own vocation:
the words of Jesus sending forth his disciples on their mission.
"Brethren," he added, "this is our life and our Rule, and that of all
who may join us. Go then and do as you have heard."4
The persistence with which the Three Companions relate that Francis
consulted the book three times in honor of the Trinity, and that it
opened of its own accord at the verses describing the apostolic life,
leads to the belief that these passages became the Rule of the new
association, if not that very day at least very soon afterward.
If thou wilt be perfect, go, sell that thou hast, and give to
the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven, and come and
follow me. Jesus having called to him the Twelve, gave them power and
authority over all devils and to cure diseases. And he sent them
to preach the kingdom of God and to heal the sick. And he said
unto them, Take nothing for your journey, neither staves, nor
scrip, neither bread, neither money; neither have two coats
apiece. And whatsoever house ye enter into, there abide, and
thence depart. And whosoever will not receive you, when ye go
out of that city shake off the very dust from your feet for a
testimony against them. And they departed and went through the
- 76 -
towns, preaching the gospel and healing everywhere.
Then said Jesus unto his disciples, If any man will come after
me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross and follow me.
For whosoever will save his life shall lose it, and whosoever
will lose his life for my sake shall find it. For what is a man
profited if he shall gain the whole world and lose his own
soul?5
At first these verses were hardly more than the official Rule of the
Order; the true Rule was Francis himself; but they had the great merit
of being short, absolute, of promising perfection, and of being taken
from the Gospel.
Bernardo immediately set to work to distribute his fortune among the
poor. Full of joy, his friend was looking on at this act, which had
drawn together a crowd, when a priest named Sylvester, who had formerly
sold him some stones for the repairs of St. Damian, seeing so much money
given away to everyone who applied for it, drew near and said:
"Brother, you did not pay me very well for the stones which you bought
of me."
Francis had too thoroughly killed every germ of avarice in himself not
to be moved to indignation by hearing a priest speak thus. "Here," he
said, holding out to him a double handful of coins which he took from
Bernardo's robe, "here; are you sufficiently paid now?"
"Quite so," replied Sylvester, somewhat abashed by the murmurs of the
bystanders.6
This picture, in which the characters stand out so strongly, must have
taken strong hold upon the memory of the bystanders: the Italians only
thoroughly understand things which they make a picture of. It taught- 77 -
them, better than all Francis's preachings, what manner of men these new
friars would be.
The distribution finished, they went at once to Portiuncula, where
Bernardo and Pietro built for themselves cabins of boughs, and made
themselves tunics like that of Francis. They did not differ much from
the garment worn by the peasants, and were of that brown, with its
infinite variety of shades, which the Italians call beast color. One
finds similar garments to-day among the shepherds of the most remote
parts of the Apennines.
A week later, Thursday, April 23, 1209,7 a new disciple of the name
of Egidio presented himself before Francis. Of a gentle and submissive
nature, he was of those who need to lean on someone, but who, the needed
support having been found and tested, lift themselves sometimes even
above it. The pure soul of brother Egidio, supported by that of Francis,
came to enjoy the intoxicating delights of contemplation with an
unheard-of ardor.8
Here we must be on our guard against forcing the authorities, and asking
of them more than they can give. Later, when the Order was definitely
constituted and its convents organized, men fancied that the past had
been like the present, and this error still weighs upon the picture of
the origins of the Franciscan movement. The first brothers lived as did
the poor people among whom they so willingly moved; Portiuncula was
their favorite church, but it would be a mistake to suppose that they
sojourned there for any long periods. It was their- 78 - place of meeting,
nothing more. When they set forth they simply knew that they should meet
again in the neighborhood of the modest chapel. Their life was that of
the Umbrian beggars of the present day, going here and there as fancy
dictated, sleeping in hay-lofts, in leper hospitals, or under the porch
of some church. So little had they any fixed domicile that Egidio,
having decided to join them, was at considerable trouble to learn where
to find Francis, and accidentally meeting him in the neighborhood of
Rivo-Torto9 he saw in the fact a providential leading.
They went up and down the country, joyfully sowing their seed. It was
the beginning of summer, the time when everybody in Umbria is out of
doors mowing or turning the grass. The customs of the country have
changed but little. Walking in the end of May in the fields about
Florence, Perugia, or Rieti, one still sees, at nightfall, the bagpipers
entering the fields as the mowers seat themselves upon the hay-cocks for
their evening meal; they play a few pieces, and when the train of
haymakers returns to the village, followed by the harvest-laden carts,
it is they who lead the procession, rending the air with their sharpest
strains.
The joyous Penitents who loved to call themselves Joculatores Domini,
God's jongleurs, no doubt often did- 79 - the same.10 They did even
better, for not willing to be a charge to anyone, they passed a part of
the day in aiding the peasants in their field work.11 The inhabitants
of these districts are for the most part kindly and sedate; the friars
soon gained their confidence by relating to them first their history and
then their hopes. They worked and ate together; field-hands and friars
often slept in the same barn, and when with the morrow's dawn the friars
went on their way, the hearts of those they left behind had been
touched. They were not yet converted, but they knew that not far away,
over toward Assisi, were living men who had renounced all worldly goods,
and who, consumed with zeal, were going up and down preaching penitence
and peace.
Their reception was very different in the cities. If the peasant of
Central Italy is mild and kindly the townsfolk are on a first
acquaintance scoffing and ill disposed. We shall shortly see the friars
who went to Florence the butt of all sorts of persecutions.
Only a few weeks had passed since Francis began to preach, and already
his words and acts were sounding an irresistible appeal in the depths of
many a heart. We have arrived at the most unique and interesting period
in the history of the Franciscans. These first months are for their
institution what the first days of spring are for nature, days when the
almond-tree blossoms, bearing witness to the mysterious labor going on
in the womb of the earth, and heralding the flowers that will suddenly
enamel the fields. At the sight of these men—bare footed, scantily
clothed, without money, and yet so happy—men's minds were much divided.
Some held them to be mad, others admired them, finding them widely- 80 -
different from the vagrant monks,12 that plague of Christendom.
Sometimes, however, the friars found success not responding to their
efforts, the conversion of souls not taking form with enough rapidity
and vigor. To encourage them, Francis would then confide to them his
visions and his hopes. "I saw a multitude of men coming toward us,
asking that they might receive the habit of our holy religion, and lo,
the sound of their footsteps still echoes in my ears. I saw them coming
from every direction, filling all the roads."
Whatever the biographies may say, Francis was far from foreseeing the
sorrows that were to follow this rapid increase of his Order. The maiden
leaning with trembling rapture on her lover's arm no more dreams of the
pangs of motherhood than he thought of the dregs he must drain after
quaffing joyfully the generous wine of the chalice.13
Every prosperous movement provokes opposition by the very fact of its
prosperity. The herbs of the field have their own language for cursing
the longer-lived plants that smother them out; one can hardly live
without arousing jealousy; in vain the new fraternity showed itself
humble, it could not escape this law.
When the brethren went up to Assisi to beg from door to door, many
refused to give to them, reproaching them with desiring to live on the
goods of others after having squandered their own. Many a time they had
barely enough not to starve to death. It would even seem that the clergy
were not entirely without part in this opposition. The Bishop of Assisi
said to Francis one day: "Your way of living without owning anything
seems to me very harsh and difficult." "My lord," replied he, "if- 81 - we
possessed property we should have need of arms for its defence, for it
is the source of quarrels and lawsuits, and the love of God and of one's
neighbor usually finds many obstacles therein; this is why we do not
desire temporal goods."14
The argument was unanswerable, but Guido began to rue the encouragement
which he had formerly offered the son of Bernardone. He was very nearly
in the situation and consequently in the state of mind of the Anglican
bishops when they saw the organizing of the Salvation Army. It was not
exactly hostility, but a distrust which was all the deeper for hardly
daring to show itself. The only counsel which the bishop could give
Francis was to come into the ranks of the clergy, or, if asceticism
attracted him, to join some already existing monastic order.15- 82 -
If the bishop's perplexities were great, those of Francis were hardly
less so. He was too acute not to foresee the conflict that threatened to
break out between the friars and the clergy. He saw that the enemies of
the priests praised him and his companions beyond measure simply to set
off their poverty against the avarice and wealth of the ecclesiastics,
yet he felt himself urged on from within to continue his work, and could
well have exclaimed with the apostle, "Woe is me if I preach not the
gospel!" On the other hand, the families of the Penitents could not
forgive them for having distributed their goods among the poor, and
attacks came from this direction with all the bitter language and the
deep hatred natural to disappointed heirs. From this point of view the
brotherhood appeared as a menace to families, and many parents trembled
lest their sons should join it. Whether the friars would or no, they
were an unending subject of interest to the whole city. Evil rumors,
plentifully spread abroad against them, simply defeated themselves;
flying from mouth to mouth they speedily found contradictors who had no
difficulty in showing their absurdity. All this indirectly served their
cause and gained to their side those hearts, more numerous than is
generally believed, who find the defence of the persecuted a necessity.
As to the clergy, they could not but feel a profound distrust- 83 - of these
lay converters, who, though they aroused the hatred of some interested
persons, awakened in more pious souls first astonishment and then
admiration. Suddenly to see men without title or diploma succeed
brilliantly in the mission which has been officially confided to
ourselves, and in which we have made pitiful shipwreck, is cruel
torture. Have we not seen generals who preferred to lose a battle rather
than gain it with the aid of guerrillas?
This covert opposition has left no characteristic traces in the
biographies of St. Francis. It is not to be wondered at; Thomas of
Celano, even if he had had information of this matter, would have been
wanting in tact to make use of it. The clergy, for that matter, possess
a thousand means of working upon public opinion without ceasing to show
a religious interest in those whom they detest.
But the more St. Francis shall find himself in contradiction with the
clergy of his time, the more he will believe himself the obedient son of
the Church. Confounding the gospel with the teaching of the Church, he
will for a good while border upon heresy, but without ever falling into
it. Happy simplicity, thanks to which he had never to take the attitude
of revolt!
It was five years since, a convalescent leaning upon his staff, he had
felt himself taken possession of by a loathing of material pleasures.
From that time every one of his days had been marked by a step in
advance.
It was again the spring-time. Perfectly happy, he felt himself more and
more impelled to bring others to share his happiness and to proclaim in
the four corners of the world how he had attained it. He resolved,
therefore, to undertake a new mission. A few days were spent in
preparing for it. The Three Companions have- 84 - preserved for us the
directions which he gave to his disciples:
"Let us consider that God in his goodness has not called us
merely for our own salvation, but also for that of many men,
that we may go through all the world exhorting men, more by our
example than by our words, to repent of their sins and bear the
commandments in mind. Be not fearful on the ground that we
appear little and ignorant, but simply and without disquietude
preach repentance. Have faith in God, who has overcome the
world, that his Spirit will speak in you and by you, exhorting
men to be converted and keep his commandments. You will find men full of faith, gentleness, and goodness, who
will receive you and your words with joy; but you will find
others, and in greater numbers, faithless, proud, blasphemers,
who will speak evil of you, resisting you and your words. Be
resolute, then, to endure everything with patience and
humility."
Hearing this, the brethren began to be agitated. St. Francis
said to them: "Have no fear, for very soon many nobles and
learned men will come to you; they will be with you preaching to
kings and princes and to a multitude of peoples. Many will be
converted to the Lord, all over the world, who will multiply and
increase his family." After he had thus spoken he blessed them, saying to each one the word
which was in the future to be his supreme consolation:
"My brother, commit yourself to God with all your cares, and he
will care for you." Then the men of God departed, faithfully observing his
instructions, and when they found a church or a cross they bowed
in adoration, saying with devotion, "We adore thee, O Christ,
and we bless thee here and in all churches in the whole world,
for by thy holy cross thou hast ransomed the world." In fact
they believed that they had found a holy place wherever they
found a church or a cross.
Some listened willingly, others scoffed, the greater number
overwhelmed them with questions. "Whence come you?" "Of what
order are you?" And they, though sometimes it was wearisome to
answer, said simply, "We are penitents, natives of the city of
Assisi."16
This freshness and poetry will not be found in the later missions. Here
the river is still itself, and if it- 85 - knows toward what sea it is
hastening, it knows nothing of the streams, more or less turbid, which
shall disturb its limpidity, nor the dykes and the straightenings to
which it will have to submit.
A long account by the Three Companions gives us a picture from life of
these first essays at preaching:
Many men took the friars for knaves or madmen and refused to
receive them into their houses for fear of being robbed. So in
many places, after having undergone all sorts of bad usage, they
could find no other refuge for the night than the porticos of
churches or houses. There were at that time two brethren who
went to Florence. They begged all through the city but could
find no shelter. Coming to a house which had a portico and under
the portico a bench, they said to one another, "We shall be very
comfortable here for the night." As the mistress of the house
refused to let them enter, they humbly asked her permission to
sleep upon the bench. She was about to grant them permission when her husband
appeared. "Why have you permitted these lewd fellows to stay
under our portico?" he asked. The woman replied that she had
refused to receive them into the house, but had given them
permission to sleep under the portico where there was nothing
for them to steal but the bench.
The cold was very sharp; but taking them for thieves no one gave
them any covering.
As for them, after having enjoyed on their bench no more sleep
than was necessary, warmed only by divine warmth, and having for
covering only their Lady Poverty, in the early dawn they went to
the church to hear mass.
The lady went also on her part, and seeing the friars devoutly
praying she said to herself: "If these men were rascals and
thieves as my husband said, they would not remain thus in
prayer." And while she was making these reflections behold a man
of the name of Guido was giving alms to the poor in the church.
Coming to the friars he would have given a piece of money to
them as to the others, but they refused his money and would not
receive it. "Why," he asked, "since you are poor, will you not
accept like the others?" "It is true that we are poor," replied
Brother Bernardo, "but poverty does not weigh upon us as upon
other poor people; for by the grace of God, whose will we are
accomplishing, we have voluntarily become poor."
Much amazed, he asked them if they had ever had anything, and
learned that they had possessed much, but that for the love of
God they had given everything away.... The lady, seeing that the
- 86 -
friars had refused the alms, drew near to them and said that
she would gladly receive them into her house if they would be
pleased to lodge there. "May the Lord recompense to you your
good will," replied the friars, humbly.
But Guido, learning that they had not been able to find a
shelter, took them to his own house, saying, "Here is a refuge
prepared for you by the Lord; remain in it as long as you
desire."
As for them, they gave thanks to God and spent several days with
him, preaching the fear of the Lord by word and example, so that
in the end he made large distributions to the poor.
Well treated by him, they were despised by others. Many men,
great and small, attacked and insulted them, sometimes going so
far as to tear off their clothing; but though despoiled of their
only tunic, they would not ask for its restitution. If, moved to
pity, men gave back to them what they had taken away, they
accepted it cheerfully.
There were those who threw mud upon them, others who put dice
into their hands and invited them to play, and others clutching
them by the cowl made them drag them along thus. But seeing that
the friars were always full of joy in the midst of their
tribulations, that they neither received nor carried money, and
that by their love for one another they made themselves known as
true disciples of the Lord, many of them felt themselves
reproved in their hearts and came asking pardon for the offences
which they had committed. They, pardoning them with all their
heart, said, "The Lord forgive you," and gave them pious
counsels for the salvation of their souls.
A translation can but imperfectly give all the repressed emotion, the
candid simplicity, the modest joy, the fervent love which breathe in the
faulty Latin of the Three Companions. Yet these scattered friars sighed
after the home-coming and the long conversations with their spiritual
father in the tranquil forests of the suburbs of Assisi. Friendship
among men, when it overpasses a certain limit, has something deep, high,
ideal, infinitely sweet, to which no other friendship attains. There was
no woman in the Upper Chamber when, on the last evening of his life,
Jesus communed with his disciples and invited the world to the eternal
marriage supper.
Francis, above all, was impatient to see his young- 87 - family once more.
They all arrived at Portiuncula almost at the same time, having already,
before reaching it, forgotten the torments they had endured, thinking
only of the joy of the meeting.17
Table of
Contents
|
