Brother Francis Part 8

Francis, equally persistent, kept to his point, and then the Cardinal, who would have been sorry had his advice been taken, entered heartily into his plans, and promised to support him with the Pope.

As these interviews occupied several days, Francis became impatient at the delay. n.o.body knows how he did it, but he succeeded unaided in getting into the Palace, and presenting himself and his brethren before the astonished eyes of the Pope! The Pope was walking in a secluded gallery, meditating mournfully on the declension of the Church of G.o.d, and trying to think what would remedy the growing evils, when his meditations were abruptly cut short by what looked to him like a troop of beggars. He was annoyed, and sent them off about their business before they could explain what they wanted.

[Sidenote: _A Dream._]

That night the Pope dreamed a strange dream. He thought he saw a tiny palm tree spring up at his feet, which immediately grew and grew till it became a splendid tree. When he awoke, the conviction was strong in his mind that the poor man he had turned away the day before was none other than this little tree. And as he was thinking over his dream, Cardinal John came in, and said--

"I have found a man whom I look upon as very perfect. He is resolved to follow literally the teachings of Christ, and I have no doubt that G.o.d intends to make use of him to reanimate faith on the earth."

The Pope was struck with what he said, for he was convinced in his own mind that this was none other than the man he had driven away. He concealed his feelings from the Cardinal, and merely said he should like to see him. The Cardinal sent for Francis and his twelve, who speedily appeared, and the Pope saw at once they were the beggars of yesterday. He welcomed Francis warmly, and went into the rule he had drawn up for his life, and that of his brotherhood. This rule has not come down to us, but from various sources we learn that it was merely a string of Bible verses, Christ's directions to His apostles, including those that had been Francis' own commission. The Pope listened to all that Francis had to say, then he said--

[Sidenote: _Hesitation._]

"My children, the life to which you aspire seems hard and difficult.

Doubtless your fervor is great, and we have no anxiety on your account, but it is our duty to consider those who will come after you.

We must not impose upon them a burden they cannot bear. All this requires serious reflection." Then he dismissed them, saying he would lay the matter before the Cardinals.

Well, the question was put to the Cardinals, and they talked and talked and talked. One said one thing, another said another, and most of them had some objection to raise. They said he went beyond due limits, that human nature could not long endure such a life, and altogether they showed by their conversation, how very, very far they, the leaders of a Church who claimed to follow the steps of the lowly Nazarene, had departed from the initial simplicity of the Gospel.

Probably some idea of this sort was in Cardinal John's mind when he rose to address the a.s.sembly. He did not say very much, but what he said went straight to the point.

"If we refuse the pet.i.tion of this poor man on the plea that his rule is difficult, let us beware lest we reject the Gospel itself, for the rule which he desires us to approve of is in conformity with the teachings of the Gospel. For us to say that Gospel perfection contains anything unreasonable or impossible is to rise up against the author of the Gospel and blaspheme Jesus Christ."

The force of his words went home, more especially as the rule was entirely composed of Scripture verses!

Still the Pope hesitated. He could not come to any immediate decision.

"Go my son," he said to Francis, "and pray to G.o.d that He may let you know that what you ask is from Him, and if it is we will grant your desire."

For several days Francis gave himself up to prayer, and his next interview with the Pope convinced him that these poor beggars had a mission from G.o.d. He withheld his approval no longer. Embracing Francis, he said to the little band--

"Go with G.o.d's blessing and preach repentance to all, in the way that He is pleased to inspire you with."

A few days later the little party were on their way home again, overflowing with joy. For a fortnight they lingered in a little town called Orte. Some historians say they rested awhile from their labours, others that they were attacked with fever in crossing the Campagna. Be that as it may, it was here that Francis endured one of the severest temptations of his life. The beauty of the scenery, the delicious quiet, after the anxious time he had just gone through in Rome, all conspired to make him think that after all perhaps a life hidden from the world and devoted to prayer and meditation would be just as acceptable to G.o.d as the more laborious one of preaching and teaching. But he did not remain long under this spell, and in a little time they were all back in a.s.sisi.

[Sidenote: _The Order Established._]

It was at this point that Francis began first to s.h.i.+ne as an orator.

Of course the news of his visit to Rome spread all around, and more than ever he was an object of interest. The priests of St. George, who had educated him, asked him to preach in their church. This service must have been a success, because when the Bishop Guido returned to a.s.sisi, he asked Francis to preach in the cathedral. Here Francis surpa.s.sed anything he had ever done before, and the large cathedral was too small to hold the crowds that flocked to hear the young man.

Men and women came in from all the country-side, monks came down from their mountain monasteries, and learned and simple all agreed that "never man spake like this man!"

Yet, as we have said before, his words were of the simplest. He preached repentance, not merely a lip repentance, but kind that worked itself out in daily life. "If you have defrauded any man," he said, "restore unto him that which is his." This sort of plain, practical teaching was rapidly dying out. It came fresh to the people, and they were stirred mightily."

[Sidenote: _Less than the Least._]

After their return from Rome, they began to be known as the Friars Minor. This was the way in which they got their name. One day a brother was reading aloud the Rule of the Order, and when he came to this pa.s.sage, "and let the brothers be less than all others," it struck Francis very forcibly. He stopped the reader, and said--

"My brothers, I wish from henceforth that this fraternity should be called the Order of Minors." Minor being the word in the original that expresses the idea of "less than the least." And this was the name they bore for many a year. It was an expressive and suitable one. Less than the least of all the brethren--that was what they desired to be.

They were essentially of the people, they wore the garb of the poorest, and shared their life with its toils and privations.

There was also another reason for this name, some historians say. Just before Francis formed his Order, there was an Order of Friars established in Italy, who spent their time in working among the poor.

"Little Brothers of the Poor," they called themselves, and it was in contradistinction to them that Francis called himself "Minor," or less than the "Little Brothers."

CHAPTER X.

THE STORY OF CLARA.

"So faith grew.... The acknowledgment of G.o.d in Christ, Accepted by thy reason solves for thee, All questions in the world and out of it."

One of the most interested listeners in the Cathedral, the day that Francis preached his first sermon there, was a little girl of sixteen.

Her name was Clara Scifi, and she was of n.o.ble family. From her childhood she had been accustomed to hear discussed among the elders the follies and madness of Francis Bernardone. Clara had always been a good child, and from babyhood delighted to distribute food and alms of all kinds to the poor. When she was old enough to understand all Francis' principles, she was greatly drawn to them, though she kept her feelings to herself. A cousin of hers became a friar, and this naturally intensified her interest in the Friars Minor. But when she went to the Cathedral, and, for the first time saw and heard Francis for herself, it was like a revelation straight from G.o.d.

It seemed to Clara that he spoke directly to her, and that he knew all her secret sorrows, and personal anxieties! Oh how she longed to have some part in his great work! In those days such a thing as a girl leaving her home for any reason except to be married or immured in a convent, and never seen, was unheard of, and when Clara made up her mind that she would break away from her idle luxurious life and become a servant of the poor, she knew that she was going to do an unheard of thing, and that never while the world stood, would she get permission from her father, Favorina, for any such undertaking! Clare's mother, Ortolana, was a pious woman, but even if she were to give her consent, it was quite certain her husband would not. Therefore Clara determined not to tell her mother what she was thinking about doing.

[Sidenote: _Clara's Decision._]

During the year that ensued after that preaching in the Cathedral, Clara saw a great deal of Francis, and the more she saw of him, and heard him talk, the surer she became that G.o.d was calling her to leave home and friends. So one March night, accompanied by two servants, Clara left her beautiful home, and set off for the Portiuncula, where Francis and the brothers were waiting to receive her, and welcome her as a sister in the Lord. Singing hymns, they led her into the little church, and after a short service, during which they read her the Rules, her beautiful long hair was cut off, and she robed herself in a garment of coa.r.s.e, ash-colored stuff, tied in at the waist with a rope. After this she was conducted to a convent, some two miles away, where the Benedictine nuns gave her a temporary shelter.

Francis was too simple and unworldly to think of the possible consequences of this step of Clara's. He was sure that G.o.d had called her, and he was equally sure that her friends would never give their consent to her leaving home and becoming an apostle of poverty; therefore, as G.o.d had revealed His will, it must be done at once. It also never occurred to him that this was likely to develop into a second Order of his Brotherhood, and an extension of his work. He only saw a soul anxious to leave the world and all that pertained to it, for Christ's sake, and his only thought was to provide it a way of escape, just as he would have cared for a sparrow escaping from the hawk, or a rabbit from the snare.

Next day Clara's irate parents arrived at the convent. They saw Clara, and begged and entreated, and threatened, but all to no purpose. She would not come away. She was absolutely unmovable. At last, seeing that she was so determined, they gave up any idea of carrying her away by main force, and listened to her while she talked to them, and explained her position that she was consecrated to the living G.o.d, and that nothing should come between Him and her. Her parents struck by her words consented to leave her, and went away promising not to trouble her again.

[Sidenote: _Agnes._]

But the troubles of the house of Scifi were not yet over. A fortnight later, Agnes, a child of fourteen, ran away to join her sister. Agnes had always been intensely devoted to Clara, and besides, she too had been longing for some more satisfactory mode of life. It cannot be said that Clara was surprised when Agnes knocked at the door, for ever since her consecration she had prayed that Agnes' heart might be touched too, and that she might be led to follow her out of the world.

Therefore she received Agnes with open arms.

"Ah, sweet sister," she cried, "how I bless G.o.d that He has so quickly heard my earnest prayer for thee!" Agnes kissed her and declared that she had come never to leave her, and together they braced themselves for the storm that they felt was coming. And a terrible storm it was!

Favorina enraged at losing another daughter, took twelve men relatives and proceeded without delay to fetch her home by main force if necessary. However, they smothered their rage at first, as best they could, and said quietly to Agnes--

"Why have you come here? Get ready and come home."

Then, when she refused to leave Clara, one of them fell on her with kicks and blows, and taking her by the hair tried to drag her away.

"Ah, my sister," she cried to Clara, "come and help me; let me not be torn away from my Lord."

Poor Clara could do nothing but follow her weeping. At last, worn out with her struggles--or, as the legend says, she became so abnormally heavy--they were obliged to drop her. Clara, reproaching them for their cruel treatment, begged of them to give the child back to her.

Not knowing what else to do they returned, much disappointed at their failure.

[Sidenote: _The "Poor Ladies."_]

This action of Clara and Agnes opened the way for many who were hovering on the brink. As soon as they were established at St.

Damian's, which the Bishop of a.s.sisi placed at their disposal--they were joined by one woman after another, many their own personal friends, and thus the second Order of what was then called "Poor Ladies," was founded. The rule that they followed was very much like that of the brothers, except in regard to the missionary life. Women in those days never preached! The "Poor Ladies" supplied the pa.s.sive side of the organisation, and by their prayers and supplications, supported the active workers. Their daily needs were met by what we should call lay-sisters, women for whom a life apart from the world was impossible. At first the people of a.s.sisi brought the ladies the food they needed, but when a little later this first ardour cooled down, the lay-sisters took it upon themselves to provide regularly for their necessities.

However, the Sisters themselves were by no means idle. They spun thread, and made linen altar-cloths, and all that was needed for churches round about. Then Francis was always sending the sick and ailing to St. Damian's to be nursed, and for some time it was quite a hospital. Clara, who was eventually put in charge of St. Damian's was as rigid as Francis in her conviction as to the advisability of possessing nothing. When her father died, she was his heir. It was a very rich inheritance she came in for, but she commanded that everything should be sold, and the proceeds given to the poor, and not a penny of it went to enrich the convent. After her father's death Clara had the joy of welcoming her mother and younger sister Beatrice into her family!