Life of St. Francis of Assisi
seeing that there will always be students enough in the universities,
and that if scientific effort is an homage offered to God, there is no
risk of worshippers of this class being wanting; but in vain he looked
about him on all sides, he saw no one to fulfil the mission of love and
humility reserved for his Order, if the friars came to be unfaithful to
it.
Therefore there was something more in his anguish than the grief of
seeing his hopes confounded. The rout of an army is nothing in
comparison with the overthrow of an idea; and in him an idea had been
incarnated, the idea of peace and happiness restored to mankind, by the
victory of love over the trammels of material things.
By an ineffable mystery he felt himself the Man of his age, him in whose
body are borne all the efforts, the desires, the aspirations of men;
with him, in him, by him humanity yearns to be renewed, and to use the
language of the gospel, born again.
In this lies his true beauty. By this, far more than by a vain
conformity, an exterior imitation, he is a Christ.
He also bears the affliction of the world, and if we will look into the
very depths of his soul we must give this word affliction the largest
possible meaning for him as for Jesus. By their pity they bore the
physical sufferings of humanity, but their overwhelming anguish was
something far different from this, it was the birth-throes of the
divine. They suffer, because in them the Word is made flesh, and at
Gethsemane, as under the olive-trees of Greccio, they are in agony
"because their own received them not."
Yes, St. Francis forever felt the travail of the transformation taking
place in the womb of humanity, going forward to its divine destiny, and
he offered himself, a living oblation, that in him might take place the
mysterious palingenesis.
Do we now understand his pain? He was trembling for the mystery of the
gospel. There is in him something which reminds us of the tremor of life
when it stands face to face with death, something by so much the more
painful as we have here to do with moral life.
This explains how the man who would run after ruffians that he might
make disciples of them could be pitiless toward his fellow-laborers who
by an indiscreet, however well-intentioned, zeal forgot their vocation
and would transform their Order into a scientific institute.
Under pretext of putting learning at the service of God and of religion,
the Church had fostered the worst of vices, pride. According to some it
is her title to glory, but it will be her greatest shame.
Must we renounce the use of this weapon against the enemies of the
faith? she asks. But can you imagine Jesus joining the school of the
rabbins under the pretext of learning how to reply to them, enfeebling
his thought by their dialectic subtleties and fantastic exegesis? He
might perhaps have been a great doctor, but would he have become the
Saviour of the world? You feel that he would not.
When we hear preachers going into raptures over the marvellous spread of
the gospel preached by twelve poor fishermen of Galilee, might we not
point out to them that the miracle is at once more and less astounding
than they say? More--for among the twelve several returned to the shores
of their charming lake, and forgetful of the mystic net, thought of the
Crucified One, if they thought of him at all, only to lament him, and
not to raise him from the dead by continuing his work in the four
quarters of the world; less--for if even now, in these dying days of the
nineteenth century, preachers would go forth beside themselves with
love, sacrificing themselves for each and all as in the old days their
Master did, the miracle would be repeated again.
But no; theology has killed religion. The clergy repeat to satiety that
we must not confound the two; but what good does this do if in practice
we do not distinguish them?
Never was learning more eagerly coveted than in the thirteenth century.
The Empire and the Church were anxiously asking of it the arguments with
which they might defend their opposing claims. Innocent III. sends the
collection of his Decretals to the University of Bologna and heaps
favors upon it. Frederick II. founds that of Naples, and the Patarini
themselves send their sons from Tuscany and Lombardy to study at Paris.
We remember the success of Francis's preaching at Bologna,[13] in
August, 1220; at the same period he had strongly reprimanded Pietro
Staccia, the provincial minister and a doctor of laws, not only for
having installed the Brothers in a house which appeared to belong to
them, but especially for having organized a sort of college there.
It appears that the minister paid no attention to these reproaches. When
Francis became aware of his obstinacy he cursed him with frightful
vehemence; his indignation was so great that when, later on, Pietro
Staccia was about to die and his numerous friends came to entreat
Francis to revoke his malediction, all their efforts were in vain.[14]
In the face of this attitude of the founder it is very difficult to
believe in the authenticity of the note purporting to be addressed to
Anthony of Padua:
"To my very dear Anthony, brother Francis, greetings in Christ.
"It pleases me that you interpret to the Brothers the sacred
writings and theology, in such a way, however (conformably to
our Rule), that the spirit of holy prayer be not extinguished
either in you or in the others, which I desire earnestly.
Greetings."
Must we see in this a pious fraud to weaken the numberless clear
declarations of Francis against learning?
It is difficult to picture to ourselves the rivalry which existed at
this time between the Dominicans and Franciscans in the attempt to draw
the most illustrious masters into their respective Orders. Petty
intrigues were organized, in which the devotees had each his part, to
lead such or such a famous doctor to assume the habit.[15] If the
object of St. Francis had been scientific, the friars of Bologna, Paris,
and Oxford could not have done more.[16]
The current was so strong that the elder Orders were swept away in it
whether they would or no; twenty years later the Cistercians also
desired to become legists, theologians, decretalists, and the rest.
Perhaps Francis did not in the outset perceive the gravity of the
danger, but illusion was no longer possible, and from this time he
showed, as we have seen, an implacable firmness. If later on his thought
was travestied, the guilty ones--the popes and most of the
ministers-general--were obliged to resort to feats of prestidigitation
that are not to their credit. "Suppose," he would say, "that you had
subtility and learning enough to know all things, that you were
acquainted with all languages, the courses of the stars, and all the
rest, what is there in that to be proud of? A single demon knows more on
these subjects than all the men in this world put together.[17] But
there is one thing that the demon is incapable of, and which is the
glory of man: to be faithful to God."[18]
Definite information with regard to the chapters of 1222 and 1223 is
wanting. The proposed modifications of the project of 1221 were
discussed by the ministers[19] and afterward definitively settled by
Cardinal Ugolini. The latter had long conferences on the subject with
Francis, who has himself given us the account of them.[20]
The result of them all was the Rule of 1223. Very soon a swarm of
marvellous stories, which it would be tedious to examine in detail, came
to be clustered around the origin of this document; all that we need to
retain of them is the memory that they keep of the struggles of Francis
against the ministers for the preservation of his ideal.
Before going to Rome to ask for the final approbation he had meditated
long in the solitude of Monte Colombo, near Rieti. This hill was soon
represented as a new Sinai, and the disciples pictured their master on
its heights receiving another Decalogue from the hands of Jesus
himself.[21]
Angelo Clareno, one of the most complacent narrators of these
traditions, takes upon himself to point out their slight value; he shows
us Honorious III. modifying an essential passage in the plan at the last
moment.[22] I have already so far described this Rule that there is no
need to return to the subject here.
It was approved November 25, 1223.[23] Many memories appear to have
clustered about the journey of Francis to Rome. One day Cardinal
Ugolini, whose hospitality he had accepted, was much surprised, and his
guests as well, to find him absent as they were about to sit down at
table, but they soon saw him coming, carrying a quantity of pieces of
dry bread, which he joyfully distributed to all the noble company. His
host, somewhat abashed by the proceeding, having undertaken after the
meal to reproach him a little, Francis explained that he had no right to
forget, for a sumptuous feast, the bread of charity on which he was fed
every day, and that he desired thus to show his brethren that the
richest table is not worth so much to the poor in spirit as this table
of the Lord.[24]
We have seen that during the earlier years the Brothers Minor had been
in the habit of earning their bread by going out as servants. Some of
them, a very small number, had continued to do so. Little by little, in
this matter also all had been changed. Under color of serving, the
friars entered the families of the highest personages of the pontifical
court, and became their confidential attendants; instead of submitting
themselves to all, as the Rule of 1221 ordained, they were above
everyone.
Entirely losing sight of the apostolic life, they became courtiers of a
special type; their character, half ecclesiastic and half lay, rendered
them capable of carrying out a number of delicate missions and of
playing a part in the varied intrigues for which the greater number of
Roman prelates have always seemed to live.[25] By way of protest
Francis had only one weapon, his example.
One day, the Speculum relates, the Blessed Francis came to Rome
to see the Bishop of Ostia (Ugolini), and after having remained
some time at his house, he went also to visit Cardinal Leo, who
had a great devotion for him.
It was winter; the cold, the wind, the rain made any journey
impossible, so the cardinal begged him to pass a few days in his
house and to take his food there, like the other poor folk who
came there to eat. ... "I will give you," he added, "a good
lodging, quite retired, where if you like you may pray and eat."
Then Brother Angelo, one of the twelve first disciples, who
lived with the cardinal, said to Francis: "There is, close by
here, a great tower standing by itself and very quiet; you will
be there as in a hermitage." Francis went to see it and it
pleased him. Then, returning to the cardinal, "Monsignor," he
said, "it is possible that I may pass a few days with you." The
latter was very joyful, and Brother Angelo went to prepare the
tower for the Blessed Francis and his companion.
But the very first night, when he would have slept, the demons
came and smote him. Calling then to his companion, "Brother," he
said, "the demons have come and smitten me with violence; remain
near me, I beg, for I am afraid here alone."
He was trembling in all his members, like one who has a fever.
They passed the night both without sleeping. "The demons are
commissioned with the chastisements of God," said Francis; "as a
podesta sends his executioner to punish the criminal, so God
sends demons, who in this are his ministers.... Why has he sent
them to me? Perhaps this is the reason: The cardinal desired to