CHAPTER VIII.
Francis—as a Leader of Men.
"Thou whose bright faith makes feeble hearts grow stronger,
And sends fresh warriors to the great campaign,
Bids the lone convert feel estranged no longer,
And wins the sundered to be one again."
Little did Francis think, as he piled up stone after stone upon the walls of St. Damian, that the day was not far distant when he should begin the building of a spiritual temple, built up of "lively stones," with Christ Himself as the "chief corner-stone." Yet it was even so. That day when, in obedience to the heavenly command, he stripped off his shoes and mantle, he laid the first stone. From that hour his spiritual building proceeded, and he who had fancied his work completed, found that it was but barely begun! Dead souls, in whom the Story of the Cross could no longer arouse even the most transient emotion, were awakened and convicted when they saw it lived out before them—a living epistle. We have seen how souls quickened by Divine power, and led only by God, came and joined themselves to Francis, choosing him as their leader, and accepting as their rule of life the revelation made to him, through the gospel, for that memorable February day. To those that followed Francis, God made no more definite manifestation of His will other than that they were to join themselves to him and lead his life. Manifestly, he was their God-appointed leader, and as simply and obediently as he had pulled off his mantle and shoes, he accepted the human trust bestowed upon him. And well he fulfilled that trust!
To the very last hour of his life, Francis was true to his first principles. Never for one moment did he wander out of the narrow path in which God had set his feet at the beginning of his career as a leader and teacher of men. As literally as it was possible he modelled his life on that of our Lord Jesus Christ. One of the most noted Atheist writers of the present century says that in no age has there been so close a copy of the life of Christ as that portrayed by Francis and his followers.
Alms.
The most well-known of all the Franciscan characteristics is their poverty. Though at times they asked alms for Christ's sake from their neighbours, that was not the ideal Francis had before him as their regular mode of life. It was that all should work with their hands at whatever they could best do, and in return receive an equivalent for their labour in food or clothes. "All the brothers who have learnt a trade," Francis said, "will exercise it, those who have not must learn one, and keep to the exercise of it without changing. All will receive everything necessary for the support of life, except money, in remuneration of their work." "When the brothers are in want of the necessaries of life, they shall go and ask for alms like any other poor man," was another of his directions. This was a great trial to some who would have gladly learned the most menial of trades. But there were times when there was no demand for labor, and there was nothing for it but to beg or starve. This latter Francis would not allow, and, repugnant though the former might be, it had to be done. Not that he ever forced anyone. He began by doing this ignominious duty himself, saying as he did so—
"My beloved brethren, the Son of God was far more noble than the noblest of us, and yet He became poor upon earth. It is for love of Him that we have embraced poverty, therefore, we must not be ashamed to resort to the table of our Lord (thus he always spoke of alms). Rejoice then to give good examples to those brethren whose firstfruits ye are, that they in future may have nothing to do but follow you."
Holy Poverty.
But there were other reasons why Francis was so devoted to poverty. In all his doings he is remarkable for clear common-sense. Money and possessions of any kind were in those days a fruitful source of dispute and quarrels of all kinds; therefore, as Francis reasoned, it were better that the Knights of Christ should possess nothing. Then again in the priesthood, though the individuals themselves possessed nothing, yet large sums of money and great possessions had been amassed by convent and monastery, until, at the period of which we are writing, the luxury and gluttony of priest and monk was a favourite joke, and the splendour of their buildings well-known. As to buildings, Francis would very much have preferred to have none. Since this was impossible, he had everything built at the least possible expense. Just rough beams put together, and the joinings filled with sand. Even then this uncouth mass had to be property of someone outside the community!
"Only on this condition," Francis said, "can we be considered as strangers here below in accordance with the apostolic recommendation." Certainly, no one could accuse them of luxury. The furniture of the houses was of the poorest. Beds, often of straw, cups and plates of wood or clay, a few rough tables, and a small number of books in common to the brothers, were all the rooms contained. Carefully and jealously did Francis guard against the first appearance of relaxation on the part of himself or his followers. He would have thought God's commands to him broken if any new-comer found in his community anything that he had given up upon leaving the world.
As to clothing, we have already seen what were Francis' views in this respect. The rough robe of "beast color," tied in with a knotted rope, is still to be seen to-day in many parts of the world. But Francis very well knew that a certain kind of vanity can easily lurk in even the coarsest of garments. He was, therefore, constantly on the watch, and was always severe if he saw the least deviation from the rule. "It is an infallible sign," he always said, "that fervour is cooling in the soul." He never allowed his disciples to have more than two tunics.
"It may be that one suffers a little," he said, "but what sort of virtue is that that cannot suffer anything! To try and avoid all mortifications under plea of necessity is a cowardly way of losing occasions of merit. It is what the Hebrews would have done had they gone back to Egypt."
Fatherly Care.
It was more by personal example than anything else that Francis led his followers in the Divine steps that he was so confident had been also marked out for him. And his people believed in him and loved him. They were convinced that through him spoke the Divine voice, and that his way was God's way. And he was worthy of their belief and their love and their esteem. He loved them with a devoted, generous love. By his entire forgetfulness of self and his constant devotion to their needs, he was theirs, always to "serve." Many stories are told of his gentle, delicate kindliness and fatherly care. Once, one of his flock had gone a little too far in depriving himself of natural food. That night, in the silence, came a voice from his room which groaned softly, "I am starving, I am starving of hunger!" Francis, who was awake, rose quietly, and, getting together some food, went to the starving brother and invited him to eat with him, so as not to hurt his feelings or let it appear that he had been overheard. After he had eaten, he explained to him the evil of not giving the body what was necessary for it.
Another brother, who was ill, had a great longing for grapes, but feared to indulge himself in case he should be breaking his vows. Francis found out, some way or other, how he felt, and, going to him, led him out into a vineyard, and, gathering some rich clusters, seated himself on the ground, and, beginning to eat, invited his companion to join him. If any were weak and ailing, it was always Francis who was first to take a vessel and go out and beg for more nourishing food for his ailing comrades. A mother could not have been more tender than he was.
In a very great measure Francis possessed the discernment of spirits. He seemed to know intuitively what people were thinking about. One day, during the last years of his life, when he had been obliged through bodily weakness to ride on an ass, he surprised the brother who was trudging alongside him, by getting off and saying—
Francis' Tact.
"Here, brother, get on, it is more fitting that you, who are of noble birth, should ride, rather than I, who am of humble origin."
The brother immediately fell on his knees and, asking forgiveness, confessed that he had been grumbling to himself that he, whose family would never have had anything to do with that of Pietro Bernardone's, had been obliged to follow the ass of Francis Bernardone!
Another brother was greatly troubled because he thought Francis did not love him. He told himself that Francis hardly ever noticed or spoke to him, and then he began to argue that probably God, too, paid no attention to him. He determined to see his leader about it. As soon as ever he appeared before Francis, and before he could get out a word, Francis said—
"It is a temptation, my brother, believe me, it is a temptation. I have the truest affection for you, and you deserve this affection. Come to me whenever you want, and we will talk things over."
One can easily imagine the joy of the once forlorn brother!
Not only could Francis move the crowds and hold them spell-bound with his fiery words, but he had also the power to reach and touch men's hearts in private. He was always accessible to that individual, be he saint or sinner, who was in need. In times of darkness and depression, he was the support of the brothers. He knew well the stages that a soul passes through after it has taken the final step of separateness from the world. In critical moments he was theirs to soothe and comfort with prayer and advice. It was not only the faltering saint that he lavished his tenderness upon; he was just as careful of the faulty and ungrateful, and nothing could exceed the love with which he strove to lure them back when he saw they were inclined to go ever so little astray. "A superior," he used to say, "is more of a tyrant than a father if he waits to interfere until a fault has been committed or a fall has occurred!"
No Alternative.
However, in spite of his tenderness, Francis could be iron strong when there was any question of right and wrong. Those who were not of his mind were obliged to get out from among the brothers. There was no alternative, no easier way made for anyone. "Little Brothers" or "Friars Minor" they called themselves, a name which then meant "servant of all" or "least of all," and woe betide anyone who departed from the spirit of this name!