 Section 14 First Foreign Missions They are gone where love is frozen, and faith grown calm and cold, where the world is all triumphant, and the sheep have left the fold, where his children scorn his blessings, and his sacred shrine despise. It was about the time of the first chapter that Francis began to feel drawn to foreign fields. The Franciscans had now spread all over Italy, and there was a general desire shown by the brethren to extend their administrations outside that country. It would appear that, at its close, a small number of the brethren were sent out to evangelize the various countries of Europe, Portugal, Hungary, Germany, etc. For himself, Francis had a larger and more daring scheme. It was the time of the Crusades. All Christian Europe was bending its energy to rest the tomb of our Saviour out of the hands of the Saracens. And after band of Crusaders had marched into the Sultan's territory to suffer defeat and death. Francis was too much of a soldier and knight not to be stirred by the tales of bravery and daring which were rife everywhere. But he had his own opinions. Is there not, he asked himself, a more beautiful way of gaining the desired end? Why all this bloodshed? Why this wholesale hurrying of men to perdition? Why all this strife between the children of one father? Why has no one ever tried to gain these infidels over on Christ's side? How many lives might be spared, and what an increase there would be for his church if they succeeded? It was a noble thought and one worthy of Francis. The more he pondered these matters, the more convinced he became that it was his duty to put his ideas into practice. He told some of the brethren his purpose, and they convinced that God led him, made no objection, and in a very short time he was ready to begin his difficult and dangerous undertaking. Peter of Quintani was appointed to take the government of the order during his absence. Francis and his companion, whose name we are not told, embarked at Ankana. How they got their passage without any money we do not know, but it is evident that they managed it somehow. When they were well out to sea, such a storm arose as caused them to seek refuge on the coast of Illyria. It was supposed at first that the delay would only be one of a few weeks, but the stormy weather persistently continuing, it soon became evident that it would be impossible to cross the Levant at that season of the year. This was a great disappointment to Francis, but he was far from being discouraged. He determined to return to Ankana. A vessel was about to sail, and he presented himself as a passenger, but as he had no money they refused to take him on board. Here was a dilemma, but help was at hand. One of the ship's officers, a good man, was touched by the harshness with which the missionaries were treated, so he went to Francis and told him that he would take them on board. He conducted them down into the hold and hid them behind some horses there. Only had they been deposited when an unknown friend brought an enormous basket of provisions. And giving it to their benefactor said, Take this, take great care of it, and as the need arises distribute it to the poor brethren you have hidden. The need soon arose. Another fearful storm beat the vessel about to such an extent that the voyage was prolonged far beyond the usual limit. Provisions were exhausted, and a famine threatened the unhappy crew. Then Francis, hearing of the distress, crept out from among the horses, explained his presence and said that he had food which he would be glad to share with them. The legend tells us that the food was miraculously made to last the voyage. The real fact was probably that the basket contained large supplies of beans and lentils and macaroni and such Italian foods that swell in the cooking and go a long way. Arriving at Ancana, Francis began to preach. He had a wonderful time, and a great number of clerics and laymen joined the order. Part of them Francis took with him to the Portian Cula and offered them to guide as the price of his failure. After watching over them for a few weeks he left them in good hands and turned his attention again to foreign mission work. The East had been closed to him, but that was no reason why the West should not open. The enemies of the Christians were as powerful in Spain and North Africa as in Egypt and the Holy Land. The infidels had just been defeated in battle, and all Europe was talking about the victory gained at Las Navas-Tolda. The heart of Francis mourned over these defeated ones. Supposing they had been defeated, he argued, their natures were still unchanged, their souls were still unsaved. He began to question if their need was not his call. He thought he heard them crying, pass over and help us. He offered himself to God for this work and, taking with him his well-beloved Bernardo de Quintavia, set out for Spain. He had another rough experience of the sea, but this time he reached his goal without any mishap. It was autumn when they landed in Spain, and without loss of time they set off for the interior. At the outset of the journey a little incident occurred which, though unpleasant at the time, God overruled for good. They were passing a vineyard, and Bernardo, who was very thirsty, plucked a bunch of grapes to refresh himself with. This was quite an allowable action in Italy, but Spain appeared to have a different code of morals, and one of the servants of the owner seized Bernardo, called him a rogue and a thief, and insisted upon his paying for what he had taken. Bernardo explained that he had no idea of doing wrong and that he did not possess the smallest piece of money. The man snatched at his mantle and said that would have to pay for it. But Francis, without discussing the matter with the servant, insisted upon seeing the owner of the vineyard. To him he explained the state of affairs. The mantle was given back, Bernardo was apologized to, and the good Spaniard did even more. He offered his services to Francis and threw open his house, which became a sort of hostile rief for the order, and any brother was always welcome, night or day, to the best that there was. Francis' intention was to go straight to the Muslims. He even talked of reaching Morocco, but God led him to stay in Spain longer than he had expected. People were converted everywhere, and branches of the work were established. Who took charge of these new ventures, we are not told. Doubtless fires from Italy were sent there. Just as he began to see his way clear to go to the Muslims, he was seized with a violent fever. For some time he lay between life and death, and when at last he began to get well it was perfectly evident that there could be no talk of his going to Morocco. Very submissive, Francis accepted this as the will of the Lord and returned to Italy. The reason why he was led back to the Portianculla at that particular time seemed to him quite plain afterwards, for when he got there he found a number of learned and noble men waiting to offer themselves to him. Exactly what Francis did after this is not quite clear. Finally he preached round about the north of Italy and visited the various branches of the work instructing novices and establishing fresh centers. At the beginning of the next year we find him attending a conference in Rome respecting the recovery of the Holy Land. While here he met Dominic for the first time. Dominic was the founder of another kind of friar order. He conceived a great admiration for Francis and tried very hard to get him to consent to amalgamate the two. This Francis never would consent to and the two always remained distinct. The decision of the conference was that the Pope himself should lead a crusade into the Holy Land. He left Rome in May and passed through the Valley of Assisi where Francis was presiding over a general chapter. At Perugia he was taken ill with fever. One of his near relatives, Cardinal Uglino, accompanied him. This man had heard a great deal about Francis from Cardinal Paul, who had just died, and he thought that now would be a good chance to see for himself. Accordingly, followed by his magnificent suite, he traveled back to Assisi. While he saw filled him with wonder, it bore to him the mark of true holiness. What struck him most was the poverty of it, the brethren. He had no idea they carried it so far. He went through the roughly constructed cells, saw the beds made of straw, more like the lairs of wild animals, and he could not restrain his tears. Alas, he cried to those who were with him, what will become of us who need so many superfluities in our life? Uglino did not stop there. He felt impelled to offer himself to fill the place of Cardinal Paul as protector of the Order. I offer myself to you, he said to Francis. If you wish it, I will be your helper, counselor, and support. Francis first of all thanked God, and then he answered, It is with all my heart I salute you, the father and protector of our religion. I wish all my brothers to you consider you as such. There are some historians who declare that this friendship, for a very real friendship sprang up between Francis and Uglino, was no advantage to the Order, but rather harmed it. There is no evidence of this among the best authorities. They lean, rather, to a contrary opinion, and we are inclined to believe ourselves that the Order would never have developed as it did but for Cardinal Uglino. He went back and told the Pope what he had seen, and the old man rejoiced greatly. It was the last joy he had on earth, for he died a few days later. Then went on the Order spread and spread till it was impossible for one man to do justice to the whole. To meet the growing need for oversight, Italy was divided into several provinces. These provinces were to be directed by brothers who were called ministers, or provincial servants. Brothers named Peter Catani for Umbria, Elias for Tuscany, Bennett of Arezzo for the Marches of Ancana, John of Stuckey for Lombardy, Daniel for Calabria. Then it was also decided that Bernardo di Candavilla was to take charge of Spain, and John of Pena, Germany. This himself was to take France, a land he had always been especially drawn to. It was through the intervention of Uglino that he forwent this mission. Francis stopped at Florence on his way to tell him of his journey. Uglino saw what Francis could not see, that in view of all their new ventures he could not afford to leave the country just then. Francis argued that he could not stay at home in safety and let the brothers go abroad on dangerous missions. It would raise talk. Uglino wanted to know if Italy wasn't big enough for him. Francis replied that God had raised them up for the good of the whole world. Perhaps so, said Uglino, but in any case you cannot go away yet without imprudence. Your order is only just started. You know the opposition it met with at first. Its enemies are not yet disarmed, and your presence is necessary to defend and maintain it. Francis saw that Uglino spoke wisely, and he gave in and stayed at home. For some time he was the guest of the Cardinal, and their mutual liking for each other was greatly increased. The more Uglino saw of Francis the more he loved him, and though he could not see I do I with him in everything at first, he eventually came round to his ways. As much as possible Francis lived his simple manner of life in the Cardinal's palace. He prayed and meditated. He went out to preach and to beg, and he even brought back his alms into the palace. One day there were a great many people at the table, and Francis was eating the scraps he had begged. Some of the guests began to joke him about it, but Francis maintained that his food was angel-spread, and if they liked he would share it with them. All, prelates, knights, and nobles accepted willingly. Some ate their portion, others put it by to keep as a memento, but Uglino was a little hurt. He took Francis aside and said, Ah, my brother, wherefore all this begging you hurt me? Do you not know that my house is yours and your brethren's? My lord answered Francis, I have not affronted you. I think I have honoured you by imitating in your house our lord Jesus Christ, who taught us to love poverty, for indeed I mean only to follow the footsteps of my master. The Cardinal bowed his head. Do, my brother, what seems good to you, he said, the lord is with you. This visit of Francis's to Florence resulted in the establishment of a large convent on the borders of Tuscany and Umbria. This is how it came about. The powerful family of the lords of Basquie were divided. The three sons were in open rebellion on account of questions of personal interest, and they were doing their best to drag into this quarrel the numerous friends of their clients and vassals. It was plain to see that bloodshed would be the outcome. Francis was very much grieved when he heard of this dissension and felt that he must do his best to stop it. Accordingly he visited the three brothers, Ugalino, Bimocanti and Renicio in turn, and entreated them in the name of Christ to desist. He succeeded in accomplishing his end, and they laid down their arms, amicably settled with the vexed question, and a charter of reconciliation was drawn up. Then wishing to show their gratitude to Francis, they presented him with a beautiful hill and building a monastery on it begged of him to send friars to establish a work there. A little later the cardinal presided over what was known as the chapter of maths, so-called because the brothers lived under little tents made of matting. He was very much surprised at all he saw, and said he never expected to find a well-disciplined army. This was a very important chapter, and many new provinces were formed. It was conducted very much like the preceding ones. It was either in the middle, or just before this chapter, that the German-Hungarian expedition returned. Their mission had been an utter failure. When questioned as to the reason of this failure, they answered unanimously, No one knows us, our dress, our loneliness excites distrust. The clergy have united to drive us away. They called us heretics, and left us without defense or protection. We fell into the hands of wicked men and thieves, who ill-treated us. We had to come away. This sounded very badly, but the explanation of it lay in the fact that they did not understand the language of the people they went to. How it happened that they were sent, not knowing the language, we cannot say. Perhaps Francis thought that French and Italian would be spoken, or at least understood in these countries, or it may be he expected them to be endowed with the gift of tongues. Those who went to Germany knew but one word of the language. Ja. Yes. In the first town they entered, they attracted a great deal of notice, and people asked them if they would like food and a lodging. They did not understand a word of what was said, but they smiled and said Ja. Finding themselves well-treated, they determined to use this expression on all occasions. Unfortunately the next one asked them if they were heretics, and had come to Germany to preach an evil doctrine. When they again smiled and answered Ja, to their grief and amazement they were cast into prison, and, after having been ill-treated for some time, were driven out of the country. At the close of the chapter of Matz, Francis announced that he was about to proceed to Egypt to preach to the Sultan. Uglino had decided that things were now on such a solid foundation that he could with safety leave the order while he took this long journey. I must not fail nor be discouraged. In the work of God no man may turn or falter. Francis and his companion Illuminato set out for Egypt with the intention of making straight for the Sultan. They traveled with one of the crusading parties, which, by a curious coincidence, was commanded by John of Brianna, brother to that Walter of Brianna whom Francis would have enlisted under, only God sent him back to his native town. Yet Francis made a good impression upon the crusaders, we know, for one of their number writes of him. We saw brother Francis, founder of the Order of Miners, arrive. He is a simple man, but very lovable, and dear to God as well as to men, and is much respected by all. The impression the crusaders made upon Francis was not so favorable. There was a great deal of discord among them. The knights looked down on the men-at-arms, and the men-at-arms called the knights treacherous. Francis had grave doubts as to the result of their expedition from the beginning. Immediately upon landing the crusaders had planned to do battle with the Saracens. This line of action was totally opposed to Francis's ideas of Christianity. I know by a revelation of the Lord, he said to Illuminato, that they will be defeated in this attempt. If I tell them so, they will treat me as a madman, and on the other hand, if I do not tell them my conscience will condemn me. What do you think I ought to do? My brother said, Illuminato, who was a man of virtue and intelligence, what does the world's judgment matter to you? If they say you are mad, it will not be the first time they have said so. Do not burden your conscience, fear God rather than man. So Francis was true to his conscience and warned the crusaders, but they left him to scorn. They rushed into a battle and were utterly defeated. Six thousand Christians were killed or taken prisoners. During the battle Francis was very anxious and unhappy, and often he wept bitterly for those whom he had tried to save. Now that force had failed, Francis felt that his time had come. He would go to the Sultan. The crusaders, what were left of them, in their turn tried to dissuade him. They told him that he could not get from one camp to another without being killed, and that the Sultan had offered a golden reward to anyone who would bring the head of a Christian. He replied that he did not fear death and would make the attempt. First though before he set out he went to one of the cardinals who were with the crusaders and told him what he proposed doing. A contemporary writer preserves for us this interview. He writes probably in a letter to some friend. Now I must tell you that two clerks, Francis and Illuminato, were in the army, and they came to the cardinal. They said that they would go to the Sultan to preach, and they wished to go with his leave. The cardinal said they should not go with his leave, for he knew well if they went they would not escape. Still they said would he suffer them to go, and much they prayed him. Then when he heard that they had so great a mind to go, he said thus I do not know your thoughts at all, but beware if you go that your thoughts are always to God. They said they only wished to go for great good if they could accomplish it. Then the cardinal said they could go if they wished, and they departed from the Christian host into the host of the Saracens. Francis was full of confidence. As he traveled he sang, Though I walk in the midst of shadows of death I fear no evil. On his way he met two little sheep. This sight gave him much cheer. Be of good comfort, he said to Illuminato. It is the accomplishment of the words of the Gospel. Behold, I send you as sheep in the midst of wolves. And the wolves were not very far behind. They appeared in the shape of some Saracen soldiers who, taking them at first for refugees or envoys, let them go quietly on. But when they found out that the brethren had no message, and that they not only refused to give up the Christian religion, but had come to preach it, they abused them and loaded them with chains. Francis never lost his presence of mind. He knew one word of Arabic, and that was sultan. As the soldiers beat him he cried lustily, Soudan, Soudan, and they understood that he wanted to be taken to their chief. The sultan was called by the Arabs Melek Kamal, or the Perfect Prince. He was very far from being a perfect character, but for a Muslim he was not ferocious. When Francis and Illuminato came before him they saluted him. Kamal saluted them, and asked if they wished to become Saracens, or had they come with a message. Saracens we will never be, they said, but we have come with a message from God that will save your life. For we say that if you die under this law you are lost, and for that we have come to you, and if you will listen to us we will show you that you are lost. This sultan said meekly that he had very good archbishops and bishops of his own. Of this we are glad, the missionaries replied, send and fetch them. So the sultan actually sent and fetched eight. He told them what they were wanted for, and repeated to them his conversation with Francis, but there was no mercy in this quarter. Sire, they said, thou art expert in the law, and art bound to maintain and guarded. We commend thee by Muhammad, who gave it to us, that their heads be cut off. We will hear nothing that they say. We commend thee to have their heads cut off. With that final decision they filed solemnly away, leaving Francis, Illuminato, and the sultan alone. Seniors, the sultan said, they have commanded me by Muhammad and the law to have your heads cut off. This the law commands. But I will go against the law, for else I should render thee a very poor reward for having risked death to save my soul. In the second interview he had with them he promised them possessions and lands, if they would only stay with him. Yes, said Francis, if you will be converted, with your people I will gladly remain. Then, a bright idea striking him, he went on. Your priests will not talk with me. Perhaps they would be more ready to act. Have a great fire lighted. I will go into the fire with them, and you will see by the result which faith is the surest and holiest. When Francis had begun this speech there were a number of priests standing round about. But before he had finished they had quietly taken themselves off. The idea filled them with horror. The sultan, perceiving their absence, remarked sarcastically, I do not think that any of my priests are inclined to face flames and torture for the defense of their faith. Francis couldn't understand how anybody with a real faith could refuse to have attested. He offered to go into the fire alone, and if he were burnt it was to be considered due to his sins. But if God protected him the sultan was to own him as supreme. But the sultan would not hear of any such trial. He was amazed and astonished at the absolute faith and trust of the man before him. With this refusal Francis retired. He was followed by rich presence from the sultan, all of which were promptly returned. The sultan begged of him to take them for his churches and order. But Francis persisted in his refusal, in seeing that there was no germ of real religion in the sultan's heart. He returned to the crusader's camp. He was heavy and sore in soul because he felt his mission to be a failure. But if he had failure in one direction he had victory in another. The news of his visit to the sultan spread, and wherever he was people flocked to see and hear him, and recruits such as he had never expected began to gather around him. The following fragment of a letter written by one of the crusaders to a friend shows us how they regarded his work. Master Rignier, prior of St. Michael's, has entered the order of friars minor. This order is making rapid progress in the world because it exactly reproduces the form of the primitive church and closely imitates the life of the apostles. The superior of these brethren is Brother Francis, a man of such goodness that we all hold him in veneration. After he came among us so great was his zeal that he did not fear to go into the army of our enemies and preach during several days the word of God to the seresons. He had not much success, but on his departure the sultan king of Egypt asked him secretly to pray for him that he might be guided by an inspiration from above and attach himself to the religion most approved by God. Colin, the Englishman, one clerk, and two other of our companions, to Witt, Michele, and Master Matthew, to whom I have entrusted the care of my church, have also entered the order of minors, and I can hardly keep back the canter and several others. As to myself, with my body weakened and my heart oppressed by all these separations, I aspire to end my life in peace and quiet. Thus, when Francis failed, God caused even that failure to be productive of good. The whole question of failure is a very subtle one, and it is a matter of grave doubt as to whether God's errands ever do really fail. What we call failure according to our preconceived ideas may simply be God's way of working. True, the sultan was not converted. Though there is a legend to the effect that when he was on his deathbed, he sent for a Franciscan friar and professed conversion. But today, at time of writing, the Franciscans are spread out all over the Holy Land. They have schools and churches and orphanages in every part of the country. Seventeen years later, John of Brienne, the commander of the Crusade, after fighting many battles and rising to great earthly glory, became converted and entered a branch of the Franciscan brotherhood then established in the Holy Land. This was no doubt due to the influence of Francis, who by the power of God alone subdued the enemies of Christ. Upon returning to Italy, a sad trial awaited Francis. He had determined to visit Bologna on his way back. The long sea voyage and hot climate of Egypt had weakened him very much. So much so that it nearly happened that he passed on without paying the promised visit. Several of the brethren round about had met Francis on his way, as naturally he halted at any monastery on the route. The conversation that he heard among these brethren troubled him not a little. He heard that there had been important additions made to the humble house the lawyer had given to Bernardo when he came first to Bologna. What put the finishing touch to his sadness was when an inhabitant of the city alluded to the building as the Friar's House. Then he knew they had departed from their first principles. For there was no me or mine in the order of the Friar's Minor. It was a heavy blow to him, sick and smarting under a sense of failure as he was, and he declared that he would not shelter under its roof, but would go elsewhere and beg for hospitality. He sent a message to the monastery to command every one of them to turn out at once. This was done instantly, and even those who were ill were carried into the street. A historian, who was a Friar at the time, writes, he who writes this history was one of the number. He was taken out of his bed and laid in the street like the others. This summary proceeding naturally caused a tremendous stir in the city, and what the outcome of it would have been we cannot say if Ugalino, who seems to have had a knack for turning up at every crisis, had not appeared just then. He went to Francis and with great difficulty succeeded in quieting him. He would never have done this had he not been able to assure him that the house was his and in no way belonged to the Friar's. When Francis saw that the brethren were in no danger of becoming proprietors, he allowed them to go back and consented to preach in the city. History tells us that that preaching was one of the most glorious on record. It was through it that Professor Papoli joined the Friar's minor. But Francis felt keenly that the government of a multitude is difficult, and that increase of followers does not invariably mean increase of joy. For several years after this he rather discouraged than encouraged people to enter the First Order. But the whole Bologna affair made a deep impression upon Francis. For the first time in his career his brave spirit suffered defeat. The first declension in principle, together with his own failing strength, was too much for him. After the next chapter he presided over, which was soon after his return from Egypt, he publicly resigned from the position of Minister-General. No one seems to have been prepared for this action beforehand. From this moment he said, I am dead to you, but here is our brother Peter Catani, he it is whom both you and I will henceforth obey. The brethren were broken-hearted. What! they said through their tears, are we to lose our father and become orphans? Then Francis stood up and prayed, O my Lord, I commend to thee this day this family which thou hast entrusted to me. My infirmities thou knowest make it impossible for me to take care of it. I put it into the hands of ministers. If it come to pass through their negligence, their scandals, or their too great severity, one of the brethren perish, they will give account to thee at the day of judgment. No entreaty or argument could get Francis to alter this decision. He was a man in the prime of life, and humanly speaking he ought to have had long years of service before him. Perhaps he felt that already his days were numbered and that it was only a question of a few years at most. As long as he lived his successors were known as vicar generals. He would only consent to preserve the title and rights of minister general. This arrangement had no serious results as far as Peter Catani's government went. He was a good man, and carried out Francis's idea exactly, so that Francis could leave all to him, and with a clear conscience devote himself to visiting the centers and preaching. But unfortunately Peter Catani's reign was a brief one. He died a very short time after his promotion to the vicar generalship. From the death of Peter Catani, till his own death, the storm clouds of internal struggle gathered round Francis's path. His life was not to be all one long, if hard worked for, success. No, life is not lived thus. There is the dark as well as the bright in its mosaic, but it is sad, we say in our humanity. When the dark work is done at the end. But God, who is the chief workman, knows best how he wants his work ordered. He has his eyes on the beautiful end, while we fix ours tearfully at the unfinished, and therefore inexplicable pattern. There was yet, however, one unalloyed joy in store for Francis before he entered upon his last dark years of service. One of the greatest social reforms the world has ever known, the establishment of the third or tertiary order of brother's minor. End of Section 15 Recording by Tom Hirsch Section 16 Brethren of the Militia of Jesus Christ This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Hirsch A dream of man and woman, diviner but still human, solving the riddle old, shaping the age of gold, the love of God and neighbor, an equal-handed labor, the richer life where duty walks hand in hand with beauty. The idea of this third order had been in Francis' mind for a long time. In fact, as far back as his first journey to Rome when the entire brotherhood numbered twelve. On his way home to Assisi he had preached in every village in town he passed. One day, as he was preaching in the vicinity of a large futile castle, a whole establishment turned out to hear him. And when he had finished, his listeners, lords and ladies, officers and retainers, threw themselves at his feet, announcing their intention to follow him wherever he went and renounce the world forever. Never was preacher in such a plight. There they stood, the tears running down their faces, husbands and wives and little children, soldiers, bower-maidens and pages, the entire retinue that ordinarily made up the household of a medieval lord. Francis knew that it would not be possible to carry off the lot. Besides, there was no second order then, and what could he do with the women and children? So he calmed them by telling them that he would endeavor to create an order into which they could come without shaking the foundations of the universe. Little he thought that the third order was destined to make even more stir in the world than the first or second. As the years passed by, Francis was continually met with the question, what must we do now that we are converted? Teach us how to live. It was a very important question, and a very natural one, for the first instinct of a healthy, newly converted soul is to spend and be spent for its master. Strange as it may seem to us in these days of Bible readers, district visitors and lay workers of all kinds, it was a very difficult question to answer. The church, which as yet was the church universal, not having suffered any disruption, knew nothing of lay help other than setting its members to pray and give alms. A change of life in action had long since ceased to be preached. Francis and his followers had revived the old apostolic doctrine of repentance and conversion and holiness of life and thought. As many as could join the first and second orders were well disposed of, but the countless multitude who were unable to leave home and friends were the as yet unsolved problem. Francis soon saw that his work would be to a large extent a failure if something were not done in the way of organizing his converts. This fact was again pressed home upon him the year after Peter Catani was appointed vicar general. He was preaching in a little village called Canara, and his hearers who comprised the major portion of the village were so carried away with his words that they besought him with tears to take them into his brotherhood. This he refused to do, saying, you are not able nor ought you to do anything of the kind. I will think of you, and I will seek, and with God's blessing I will find, a life more within your compass. This promise he found he had to renew wherever he went. What must we do? the people asked him. We cannot forsake our wives, said the husbands. And we cannot leave our husbands, said the wives. How shall we save ourselves? After a little the active mind of Francis found the way out. He would form a new order of converted men and women who would be linked on to the first, and so without leaving the world they could enjoy the peace and strength of a truly religious life. Such an idea had never been heard of before, and the success of the new institution far surpassed all expectations. It seems as though men's hearts and minds had been waiting for it to judge by the numbers that sought admission. The rules of the order were very simple and based almost entirely on the Sermon on the Mount. The tertiaries, as they were called, were required to put an end to all hatred and to restore all ill-acquired gain, not to engage in lawsuits, to practice the commandments of God, to wear a plain dress and abstain from all worldly gayities such as theater-going, dancing, etc. No one might speak of his or her neighbor's faults. They were to eat the plainest of food and to avoid a variety of dishes. Then there were various advices given as regards cleanliness. Medieval folk seldom reckoned cleanliness among the virtues to be cultivated. No one was to appear in church in soiled or torn clothes, because in so doing they showed disrespect to God, and never should there be stain or spot on their garments, for outside purity is in some sort a reflection of inward purity. Houses and furniture also had to be plain and clean. They spent what time they had in visiting the sick and helping those who needed help out of the surplus of their goods. Before anybody was admitted into the order, an investigation was made into his or her life, respecting personal character and relations with their neighbors. If he were found with goods not belonging to him, or to be at enmity with anyone, he was not admitted until he had repented and done his first works. In every place where a congregation of the Third Order existed, there was a visitor who was also a minor of the First Order. It was his duty to oversee these tertiaries and give them instruction. Such was the order in which people of all grades and classes hastened to enroll themselves. It was first opened in June, and at the end of that year we find branches of it in Tuscany, Umbria, and the marches of Venkana. A wave of blessings seemed to pass all over Italy. It does not appear that Francis established any other fraternity of the Third Order except the First, and from that the others spread out into all the earth. The tertiaries, or the brethren of the militia of Jesus Christ, as someone called them, multiplied to such an extent that very soon they attracted more attention than was altogether pleasant. The different bishops of Italy opposed them and wrote to the German emperor, Frederick II, who was a man of bad character and openly irreligious. The friars minor have risen up against us, they wrote. They have publicly reproved our life and conversation. They have destroyed our rights and brought us to nothing. And now, as the finishing stroke against our power, and to deprive us of the devotion of the people, they have created two new confraternities, which include men and women. Everyone runs into them. Frederick was frightened. He saw a gigantic army ready to fight for the church at a word of command, because one of the bylaws of tertian rule forbid the tertiaries to carry offensive weapons saved in the defense of the faith of Jesus Christ, or in defense of their country. From this time Frederick, who was always fighting against the church, became their bitterest enemy, and persecuted them wherever they were to be found. If it had not been for the influence of Cardinal Uglino, who vigorously protected the Third Order after Francis's death, Frederick would probably have been able to wipe it out of existence, or what would have been worse, it might have existed only in name. As it was, it grew and spread and struggled for its rights, till it became one of the most powerful religious, social, and political influences the world has ever felt. To go into the details of this would occupy too much space, therefore we shall turn our attention to a few of the first tertiaries. The very first was a man called Lucchese. This man was young, good-looking, and ambitious. He was a tradesman, and his ruling motive in life was to vie with the nobles. This after a time became a passion with him. He knew the only way to success lay through riches, therefore he determined to be rich. He began to speculate in grain and bought up as much as he could, and thus created an artificial famine in his village. Then, when the want was greatest, he resold his stores at enormous prices and his fortune was made. But God was looking after him, and one day, when he was sitting alone, the thought of what he had done came before him in all its hideousness. He saw that there was something more in life besides merely pursuing riches, and what would it profit him? Something asked him, if he should gain all his heart was set on and be eternally lost in the end. From that hour he was a changed man. After consultation with his wife, Bonadonna, he sold the greater part of his goods and distributed their price to the poor. He kept only a house and a garden of four acres, which he cultivated with his own hands. This was a hard life for one who had been used to luxury. His house soon became the poor man's inn for the district. There came the poor and needy in troops, and never were they sent empty away. Such was Lucchese's life when he met Francis, just at the time when the necessity for the Third Order was pressing most heavily upon him. Lucchese opened his heart to Francis, and told him how much he longed to make up for the wrong he had done in the past and live a life well pleasing to God. For some time, said Francis, who felt, as Lucchese talked with him, that the man in the hour had both arrived. I have been thinking of founding a Third Order in which married people will have an opportunity of serving God faithfully. You can be the first to enroll yourself. Then he explained the form which he intended to give this order, and Lucchese gladly enrolled himself, and Bonadonna declared that she would join her husband. Encouraged by this good beginning, Francis publicly announced his intentions, and a number of men and women came and offered themselves to him. So one day in the church, in the sight of many spectators, he clothed them in a simple, modest dress of ash gray, and the first group, or rather the first fraternity, was formed. Lucchese persevered nobly in his good works. He was no longer content with merely helping those who came to him, but he traveled great distances to find the suffering. Sometimes he was to be seen leading three or four poor creatures and carrying the weakest of them on his back. And once they were in his house he cared for them body and soul, and many of them were converted, and some joined the Third Order. Close to where Lucchese lived there were large tracks of swampy, malarial country. Every summer fever was sure to break out there. Lucchese saw this place now as a beautiful field for tertiary labor. He bought an ass, and loading it with suitable drugs and food, he went down into the fever swamps, and did his best in the capacity of doctor and nurse and priest all in one. His wife was always ready to help him in all his good works. His death is reported to have been serene and grand as that of a patriarch. He and his wife were both taken ill together. She got worse rapidly, and they came to tell him of it. They carried him to her side. Kissing her in affection at farewell he said, O my beloved and devoted companion, we have served God together in all affection. Wait for me, we shall be permitted to go together to the unspeakable joys. He returned to his room and lay down in great weakness. Those around saw that his last hour had come. My dear brother said one of the friars-miner who stood beside him, Be strong and prepare thy soul to appear before thy Saviour. Lucchese raised his head a little and smiled. My good father, he said, if I had waited till now to prepare my soul, I should still have confidence in God's mercy. But to tell the truth, I should leave the world with less security on account of the terrors of the passage. But the passage had no terrors for Lucchese. He raised his arms and said, I feel myself free and ready, not through my merits, but through those of our Lord Jesus Christ. A few minutes after the death of his wife, he too followed her to heaven. Once when passing through Rome, Francis was asked by the chief of a powerful house to dinner. As he was going into the palace of the noble, he described a number of poor people congregated in the court to whom food was being distributed. Unable to resist the opportunity, he went down and sat among them. Matthew de Rubreis, his host, was looking out of the window and saw this. So he came out and joined him, saying, Brother Francis, since you will not come in to me, I must come and sit with you. And with the most courtly air he announced to the astonished crowd that he and Francis would eat with them. After that dinner, during which, no doubt, Francis expounded his doctrines, Matthew de Rubreis was enrolled in the new militia. He was the first tertiary in Rome. Little Rose, though not actually a contemporary of Francis, is always reckoned as one of the first tertiaries. She was one of those children who seemed born with deep religious feeling. She always, from her earliest dawning intelligence, loved God with all her heart and soul. She was a beautiful child, very lively in disposition, and she loved to go out into the streets and sing hymns. Before she was ten years old she began to preach against those who tried to undermine the faith of our Lord Jesus Christ, of whom the chief was the German emperor Frederick II. The archbishop of the town had written a letter warning his people against the dangers that beset them, and nowhere did his appeal take deeper root than in the heart of Little Rose. She, childlike, spoke out boldly what her friends were thinking in their hearts. Standing in the street on a large stone she preached that the emperor was an enemy of the true faith, and must be resisted, and that the standard of the faith must be kept high at all costs. Those who thought just so encouraged her. But those who were staunch supporters of the wicked emperor went to the prefect of the town, who belonged to their party, and declared, if you do not send away Rose and her parents we will drive you away yourself. The prefect was frightened. He sent for Rose and her parents, and when they appeared he ordered them on pain of being cast into prison and having their goods confiscated to leave the town. It was then the middle of winter snow had been falling for some days, and the roads were nearly impassable. The parents begged to have the sentence postponed for a little. It is death, they said, to go now. Well, you can die then, answered the prefect. I want nothing better. So they took their child and set off. They did not die, however. God took care of them, and they safely reached Soriano, where they lived in peace and quiet till the death of the emperor a year later allowed them to return home again. End of Section 16. Recording by Tom Hirsch. Section 17. Clouds. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Tom Hirsch. For gold must be tried by fire, as a heart must be tried by pain. It seems a rather strange turn of events that put Elias in the place of the gentle devout Peter Catani. No one could doubt Elias's efficiency. That was beyond all question, but that he had a proud self-willed spirit was also indisputable. Francis' mind at first turned toward Bernardo de Contavia as Peter's successor. He always had a peculiar love for this his first son. But though Bernardo had risen to considerable importance in the order, yet for some time he had been harassed with interior temptations, and had been subject to great darkness. Though Francis was not troubled very much by this experience of Bernardo's, saying, It is a trial, he will come out of it, and be the greater for it afterwards. But he did not think it wise to put him in any new position of authority, as his own trials would not leave him quite free for his work. So Bernardo was passed over, and Elias filled the vacant vicar generalship. Elias's government was active. Splendid order reigned in all the communities. He was unequaled for clearness of business views, and his preaching was greatly sought after. Some historians say that with all Francis' gifts of perception, he never, until it was too late, saw into Elias's character, and that the pride and self-will which were so evident to others were hidden to him. Elias loved show and external greatness, rather than interior goodness and holiness. He loved Francis, but he thought he was far more capable of filling the vicar generalship than he. He regarded Francis as one to be admired, not imitated. It is quite certain that if Francis had had the faintest idea that the order would suffer through Elias, he never would have elected him. Elias entered his new appointment in a blaze of glory. He had come from the minister generalship of Tuscany, the most important post in the order, which he had managed in a very skillful manner. Then another event had just happened which added to the luster of his reputation. A celebrated German preacher, César of Spears, had attended his preachings and entered the order. Elias was installed at the next chapter before five thousand brethren. It was at this chapter that on the seventh day they had to beg of the people, not to bring them any more food, and even then they had to prolong the chapter two days in order to eat up all the provisions that had been donated. Elias presided at the last sitting, which was the one when the brethren received their appointments. We have told you how unfortunate the first German expedition had been, and how the poor brethren returned more dead than alive with fright. Well, during the course of this last sitting, Francis felt impressed that they ought to make another attempt for the salvation of Germany. As he was not very well that day, and unable to make himself heard, he pulled Elias by the tonic and whispered to him aside. Elias stood up and said, My brethren, this is what the brother tells me. They always called Francis the brother. There is a country, Germany, whose inhabitants are Christians and full of devotion. You have often seen them passing through our country walking in the sunshine with long sticks and great boots singing the praises of God. Several of our brethren have already been amongst them. They did not succeed and had to come back. Now I compel none of you to undertake this mission again, but if anyone is sufficiently filled with the zeal for the glory of God and the salvation of souls to venture upon it, they can give in their names. A wave of horror ran through the assembly, for no mission was more dreaded. But very soon they recovered themselves, and about ninety gave in their names, several of whom were of German origin. During this last number was César of Spears, who was appointed minister for Germany. A rather amusing incident occurred in connection with this expedition. The ninety volunteers were all told to come out of the ranks and stand together till those who were to go were chosen. As they stood waiting there, a certain brother called Giordano, who was one of those most scared at the idea of a mission to Germany, and had taken good care not to volunteer, thought he would go and have a look at them. Giordano had a spirit of investigation that would have led him into the ranks of journalism, and he lived only a few centuries later. They will certainly die, he said to himself, and it will be as with the martyrs of Morocco. I shall not even have known them by name. With that he took off on an unauthorized interviewing tour, and accosting each one he said, Who are you? What is your country? Then as he told himself, when he heard of their martyrdom, he could say, Oh, I knew this one and the other one. It was not a very lofty object, but it was an exceeding natural one. In time his investigations brought him to a brother who was a bit of a wag, and who, unluckily for Giordano, knew of his horror of Germany. I am called Palmerio. And I come from Gargano, he replied meekly when questioned. But my brother, he continued, You are one of us, you are going too. No, no, I am not, cried Giordano, I only want to know you. Oh, but you are, insisted Palmerio, and taking him by the shoulders he held him amongst the volunteers. Giordano was still struggling for liberty when César was a appointed minister, and told to choose those out of the 90 whom he would like to have with him. Several of the brethren who had entered into the joke with Palmerio, surrounded him and begged him not to leave out brother Giordano. I am not going, I am not going, cried Giordano. César looked at him, and seeing he was a suitable candidate, was inclined to have him. He, knowing that his countrymen were neither savages nor man-eaters, and that there was not the slightest danger to fear, was rather at a loss to understand the fuss. Will you or will you not go to Germany? You must decide, he said to Giordano. This threw Giordano into great perplexity. If he did not go to Germany, he feared his conscience would condemn him, seeing that he was chosen. And if he went, the Germans were ferocious, and he knew he would not make a good martyr. He consulted a brother who had been robbed fifteen times during the last Hungarian mission. In your place, advised the man I should not choose. I would say I shall neither go nor stay. I will do as you say. Giordano followed this advice and was chosen for Germany. He got the better of his fears and worked bravely, and his journalistic talents were used in compiling a valuable chronicle, which tells us how the miners were established in Germany. The most important event in the history of the order was the establishment of a school for theology and training. This was begun by Anthony, whom you will remember best under the name of Fernandez, and who was led into the order by the death of the five Morocco martyrs. He was not only deeply religious, but very learned. Upon hearing him preach one Easter, some of the brethren who were present got the idea that a school was needed in the order, and that Anthony would make a splendid head. They laid this plan before Elias, who highly approved of it, and undertook to present it to Francis. To convince Francis was quite another matter, and for some time he would not hear of it. But Elias was a clever reasoner, and he got Francis at last to listen to the plans. Still he hesitated. His ideal had always been apostolic preaching, and he dreaded any change in his beloved order. At last he gave in and wrote his consent to Anthony thus, I consent to your teaching holy theology to our brethren on condition that such teaching does not stifle the spirit of prayer, either in yourself or others. I hold firmly to this point, for it is our rule. Whether this step was a good or bad one we cannot say. We only know that under Anthony no harm came of it, but rather good. With all his brilliancy and keenness of intellect, and in spite of the way men ran after him and honored him, he still kept his simple faith and humble spirit. Under the chapter we have already described, Francis took a tour with Elias into his late province Tuscany, and then on his return he set himself down to compile a definite and comprehensive rule for the benefit of posterity, and to which future generations would be able to refer. Probably the laxities of Elias which were beginning to make themselves manifest strengthened Francis in his determination to leave his articles of faith behind him in such tangible form that there could be no questioning the principle and line of action. Elias's influence was being felt all round. The devotion to poverty was not what it once was, and the love of authority and office was doing its deadly poisonous work in the hearts of some. Francis's decision to draw up a definite rule was far from a agreeable to Elias and his set. Nevertheless it was done. Taking with him Leo and Bonizio, Francis went off to a hermitage, and there he dictated the new rule. On his return to Assisi he gave it to Elias to read, telling him to take care of it. When Elias read it he found that it entirely did away with many of his most cherished plans. Although a few days later, when Francis asked him for the rule again, he said that he had lost it. Francis answered never a word. He returned to the same solitude with the same companions and dictated the rule a second time. This rule has been handed down to us in tact. It is very largely an amplification of those first verses of the Gospel which were to Francis his call to his life work. It is remarkable for its clearness. If any brother transgressed this rule he did it with his eyes open and knew what he was doing, too. There is no sign of any laxity in it. As Francis advanced in years he became more and more strongly attached to that simplicity of faith and work which was the light of all his life. At the next chapter a copy of the rule was given to all the brethren. They were told to carry it about with them always, and learn it by heart, and repeat it often to themselves. It was drawing near Christmas time when this rule was finally passed by the church, and as Francis was in Rome just then he determined to put in practice an idea which long had been simmering in his brain. It was an innovation, but then he was convinced that it would make men think more deeply of the holy baby that was born to bring peace and good will to earth. Accordingly he sent the following message to a nobleman named John who was devotedly attached to Francis. I wish to keep Christmas night with you, and if you agree this is how we will celebrate it. You will choose a place in your woods, a grotto if there is one. You will put in it a manger and hay. There must be an ox and an ass also. It must, as much as possible, be like the manger at Bethlehem. All was prepared, and when Christmas night came an immense multitude carrying torches and lighted tapers poured through the dark midnight woods to the grotto. The brethren sang carols as they came, and these were caught up by the people till the forest resounded again and again. Francis himself led this mighty procession to the manger, and there, standing at its head, the oxen and asses pressing close beside him, and the flaring torches lighting up the hole with an unearthly lured light, he preached to them about the meek and lowly Jesus who came to earth to be despised, persecuted, and put to death. It was a time of much blessing, and that night saw a dawning of peace and good will in souls once darkened and lifeless. But all this time, ever since he returned from Egypt, Francis' health was slowly but surely failing. Weak and ill, in with the lurking fear that the principles of the order were being undermined, his last two years of life were anything but peaceful ones. Not that there was anything done openly, that was the misery of it. An open, bold innovation could have been taken hold of and dealt with. But Elias was far too politic and clever to do anything that might lead to his being put out of office. Any question of departure from the rules that came up, he always blamed on the provincial ministers, and professed to be as grieved over their failure as Francis himself, though secretly he supported them. He carefully gave all the truest Franciscans appointments far away from Assisi and Francis, and kept those of his own mind near home. This was not a bad thing for the ultimate success of the order, because it preserved the real spirit abroad. And when Bernardo de Quintavel stepped into Elias's place, ultimately, he had all his foes close to hand round home, where the Franciscan principles had taken deepest root. It was hard for Francis when one after another of his faithful followers came to him, and with tears reproached him for having given them into the hands of another. When they at last took in the fact that though the spirit might be willing, the flesh was too weak to do what it had once been able to do, their sorrow knew no bounds. Some of them were almost a little selfish in their grief. You will pass away, said one. Your family will remain in the valley of tears. Who can take charge and direct it after you? If you know of one on whom your mind can rest, I conjure you to tell me. My son, said Francis with tears, I see no one around me equal to this task of being shepherd to sow great a flock. This tortured by bodily pain and weakness, and tormented by unseen foes and enemies of all that he counted dearest and most sacred, he entered upon the two last dark years, which were his valley of the shadow before the eternal sun rose, never to set again. God of my life through all my days, my grateful powers shall sound thy praise. My song shall wake with opening light, and cheer the dark and silent night. When anxious cares would break my rest, and griefs would tear my throbbing breast, thy tuneful praises raised on high shall check the murmur and the sigh. When death or nature shall prevail, and all the powers of language fail, joy through my swimming eyes shall break and mean the thanks I cannot speak. But oh, when that last conflicts o'er, and I am chained to earth no more, with what glad accents shall I rise to join the music of the skies. The cheerful tribute will I give, long as the deathless soul shall live. A work so sweet, a theme so high, demands and crowns eternity. CHAPTER XVIII SIN can never taint thee now, nor doubt thy faith assail, nor thy meek trust in Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit fail. And there, thou art sure to meet the good, whom on earth thou lov'dst best, where the wicked cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest, slowly but surely, the time came when Francis was compelled to drop all attempt at work. We do not read that he suffered or grieved over this, not even when the blindness, which had been gradually creeping upon him, suddenly climaxed and he was plunged into almost total darkness. In the midst of all, his faith shone brighter and brighter, and his love for God grew in intensity. His confidence in God was such that when he found himself in what ought to have been the prime of life, a broken down pain tortured wreck, not the faintest shadow of a regret for the golden years that might have been, had his path been a less stormy one, ruffled the interior calm of his soul. His life had been lived, and was being lived in the will of God, and nothing outside that will could possibly happen to him. So in the serene confidence that all things, no matter how disastrous they might appear to human understanding, would surely work together for good, he lay down in his narrow cell at the Portianculla to suffer the divine will with the same glad, ready obedience with which he had heretofore hastened to perform it. In no instance do we read of his faith failing him, not for the smallest fraction of a second. The story of his last days is one of the most vivid pictures of the triumph of a soul over every earthly hindrance. It has its parallel in the story of Gethsemane and Calvary. Before we continue our narrative, let us for a moment take a realizing view of Francis, his condition and circumstances. As we have said before, his health was utterly undermined. We are told that the stomach could ill bear food, the internal organs were the seat of constant sufferings, and all the members were weakened and painful. Add to this almost total blindness, and we have a state of body that would in itself be sufficient excuse for any phase of soul difficulty, darkness, or depression, had such assailed him. But how much worse than his bodily pains must have been the heart agony he suffered through the insidious, elusive disease that was sapping the vitality of the vast organization of which he was the tender father. To the very dregs Francis drained that cup of failure and defeat, which all who are called to lead the vanguard of Christ's conquering host have at some time or another to drink more or less deeply. That is the time when the cry, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me, is rung from the tortured soul, and thrice happy are those who, out of an intimate knowledge of God, can add, not my will, but thine be done, assured that it is best simply because it is his. But it is only those who know God and enjoy him, who have confidence enough in him not to demand his reasons, those whose lives have not been mere service alone, who can triumphantly and victoriously cry, thy will be done. Such was Francis, such were those of the whitest of God's saints, and alike eternal triumph and victory is ours if we, too, are willing to pay the full price, a life of utter self renunciation. But to return, up to the time when Francis became blind he had steadily refused to see any doctor or take any medicine. But after much persuasion on the part of the brethren in Ugalino, who firmly believed that the order would suffer collapse if Francis died, he gave in to their request and tried every remedy the Asesian doctors presented. But he became no better, and from Assisi he was taken to Raiti to consult an oculist there. He suffered everything from the rude, barbarous surgical treatment of the times, which knew little beyond cauterization, bleeding, and drawing plasters. But as he became rather worse than better, the Raiti oculist, who had learned to love him, took him on to Siena to see an old celebrated oculist who lived in that town. This man said that there was nothing for it but an operation, a very painful one, too, for he would have to cauterize his patient from the eyebrows to the ears. Francis said he was ready to undergo it. He thought to himself that this was a glorious chance to show that Christ's soldiers could be as brave as any others. One moment only he shuddered. This was when the doctors were hating their instruments in the fire, and he knew that soon he would have to endure them. In those days only the very stoutest-hearted submitted to operations, the majority preferring to die untortured. One can hardly blame them, as there were no means known by which the faculties could be deadened. Before the hot irons touched him Francis prayed, and then addressed the fire thus. My brother fire, among all beautiful things the Lord has created thee, beautiful, strong, useful. Be gentle to me this hour. Make God who created thee temper thine ardor that I may be able to bear it. With that he gave himself into the surgeon's hands, and without a groan he underwent the operation. The brethren who were with him ran away the moment it began. Francis called them back. O faith-hearted cowards, he said, why did you run away? I tell you in truth the iron did not hurt me. I felt no pain. Then turning to the doctor he said, if it be not well burnt, thrust it in again. The doctor who knew the terror most people felt at such operations exclaimed in amazement, my friends, this day I have seen wonders. For a little time the operation seems to have succeeded, and the winter passed away with alternations of good and bad health. Francis spent the largest portion of his time in prayer and meditation, and after that he was able to see the number who daily begged for the privilege of visiting him for consultation and help. His memory, writes a historian, served him for a book, and furnished him with the principles and facts he needed on every subject. The important thing, Francis used to say to himself, is not to have understood a great number of truths, but sincerely to love each truth, to let each one penetrate the heart by degrees, to let it rest there, to have the same object in view for a long time, to unite oneself to it more by the sentiment of the heart than by subtle reflections. In the early days of spring Francis was seized with such a violent hemorrhage that everyone thought his end had come. Elias was hastily sent for, but before he could arrive all immediate danger was passed. However, as soon as he was able Francis determined to travel back to Assisi. His was the true Italian nature whose heart always turns towards home as a sunflower to the sun. He must have had a revival of strength just here, because we read of his standing upon a stone in the cemetery at Cortona, preaching to the people. But he was not deluded into thinking that this meant recovering. Oh no, he told the people plainly that he was on his way to Assisi to die. For two months he stayed in Cortona, detained there by the people who refused to part with him, and then he was seized with dropsy and fever. He begged to be taken back to his native land. It was his last wish and they at once carried out his desire. For fear the Perusians, through whose town they had to pass, would also try to detain him, Elias sent a messenger to the magistrates of Assisi, asking them for an escort back. The magistrates immediately sent a party of armed men on horseback, chosen partly from the nobles, and partly from the principal men of the town. They surrounded the letter in which Francis was laid, and the journey commenced. It was a curious procession, the worn invalid laying on his hard couch, and borne by his brown-robed barefooted brethren, and round them the brilliant costumes and gay trappings of the nobles and their prancing horses. Did Francis, we wonder, compare his present position with that day some twenty years back, when, hunted and hounded through his native town, he was glad to take refuge in a cave? If he did, we may be sure that to God he gave all the glory. Francis took a keen delight when, as it happened, he was able to prove to his gay escort by ocular demonstration the power of his beloved poverty. They were stopping at a tiny mountain village in order to let him rest, and as they had no food, the men set out to buy some. They came back a little later, very discomfited, and not a little cross. The people had refused to sell them any, saying loftily, we are not shopkeepers. We are reduced to living upon your alms, the men said to Francis. We cannot find anything to buy. Francis enjoyed their dilemma hugely. You have found nothing, he explained, because you have trusted in your money more than God, but return where you have been, and instead of offering money, ask food for the love of God. Do not be ashamed, since sin came into the world all we have is alms. It is of the charity of the great almoner that we receive what we call our possessions. The knights took courage and became, for the time, beggars, and asking food for the love of God, received all they wanted. After this halt they reached Assisi in another stage. The old Bishop Guido came to see his son as soon as he arrived. The moment he looked at him he knew that his days were numbered, and he entreated him to let himself be moved to his house where he could have more comfort. This was done, but nothing could really ease Francis's sufferings. The swelling that had begun at Cortona disappeared, and he rapidly became terribly thin. He could not make the slightest effort without terrible suffering, and his eyes were so bad that he could barely distinguish light from darkness. Feeling alone remained, and we are told that every part of his body was the seat of sharp pains. The doctors declared they could not tell what kept him alive. My father said one who was tending him once, do you not think you would suffer less under the hands of an executioner? My brother, answered Francis, my dearest and sweetest wish has always been, and still is, to do what God demands of me. With all my soul I desired to conform myself in all things to his pleasure and will, but martyrdom would be less difficult to bear than three days of this illness. I mean speaking of the suffering it brings, not of the recompense it merits. As the suffering days lengthened into months, Francis seemed to rise above himself. He lay there smiling and calm, and every hour his soul became more strong and vigorous. Not that he was by any means free from temptation. We read that his soul bore the most violent assaults without flinching. In October he was taken back to Portiancula. His one desire now was to die near the spot where God had first revealed himself to him. He was placed on a litter, and slowly the bearers descended the mountain. Turn me towards the town, he said, when they reached the valley, and sitting up with a painful effort he gazed for the last time in the direction of Assisi. Be blessed of the Lord, he said solemnly, O town faithful to God, many souls shall be saved in you and by you. His first duty when he arrived at home was to make what he called his will. This is a recapitulation of the fundamental principles of his life and a short account of the first early days of the brotherhood. He charges all to be true to the one rule of the order. I absolutely forbid, he writes, at the close, all my brother in whether clerks or laymen, to put glosses on the rule or on this writing, saying thus it ought to be understood, but as the Lord has given me grace to dictate purely and simply, understand them simply and without gloss, and put them in practice unto the end. His knowledge of human nature was only equal to his charity and long suffering. After this piece of work was accomplished he quietly resigned himself to die, and holding up his hands to heaven, cried, Now, O Christ, I have nothing to keep me back, I shall go freely to thee. The end came rapidly. Each day found him weaker than the preceding one, and it was with difficulty that he was able to speak to those around him. Fifty of the brethren who were then at the portion Kula knelt round his bed. My father said one of them bending over him, Your sons will have no father. In you we lose the light of life, and now forgive those present and those absent for all the sins they have committed. Bless them once more. My sons said, Francis, God is calling me. I forgive my brethren, those present and those absent, all their sins and faults. I absolve them as much as I can. Tell them so and bless them in my name. He then asked them to read him the history of the passion in St. John's Gospel, and then a part of the one hundred and forty second Psalm. As they were reading the seventh verse, bring my soul out of prison that I may praise thy name. He closed his eyes and slept peacefully in Jesus. His glorious death took place just a few days before he entered his forty-sixth year, twenty years since he received his call to repair the church, and eighteen since he founded the order of Friar's Minor. End of Section 18, Recording by Tom Hirsch. End of Brother Francis, or less than the least, by Eileen Douglas.