CHAPTER XII.
Some of Francis' Converts.
"Ah, the people needed helping—
Needed love—(for love and Heaven
Are the only gifts not bartered,
They alone are freely given)."
It is rather a pity that there have not been more detailed accounts handed down to us of the converts who could point to Francis as their spiritual father. It would have given us yet another side of that life which was the most glorious spiritual light of the dark age in which he lived! From the few that we meet incidentally, here and there, we have no doubt that such documents, were they forthcoming, would be of immense value. But, alas, the age in which Francis lived was not an essentially literary one, and writing was one of the accomplishments left to the few! So we must therefore make the best of such scanty material as we have at our disposal, and try to give you an idea of the different species of humanity that were attracted by the kindly, gracious, Christ-like personality of Francis.
We have seen how at first, he had no idea of his call extending any further than himself and his own life and conduct. Then one by one, at first, and more quickly afterwards, men ranged themselves under his standard, and claimed him as their leader. Naturally, and simply, he took up his new position, and the duties attached thereto. He seemed to know by intuition those whom God had singled out to be his followers, and one after another heard Francis, as the voice of God calling them to leave all and follow the lowly despised Christ.
Soldiers in the Christian Army.
One of the first of these was a laborer named John.
It was always a great grief to Francis when he saw a church left dirty and neglected. It gave him positive pain to think that anyone could neglect the House of God, and give it less care than they would their own homes. When he went on different preaching tours he used to call the priests of the locality together, and beg of them to look after the decency of the churches. He was not content merely to preach, but often he bound stalks of heather together and made himself a broom, and set to work and showed them an example.
One day he was busily engaged in sweeping out a church when a peasant appeared. He had left his cart and come to see what was going on. After he had stared for a time, he went over to Francis and said—
"Brother, let me have the broom and I will help you." He took the broom, and finished the church.
When his task was ended, he said—
"Brother, for a long time, ever since I heard men speak of you, I have decided to serve God. I never knew where to find you. Now it has pleased God that we should meet, and henceforth I will do whatever you command me."
Francis was convinced that he would make a good friar, so he accepted him. This John was renowned afterwards for his piety, the other friars admired him greatly. He did not live very long, and after his death, Francis used to love to tell the story of his conversion, always speaking of him as Brother Saint John.
Angelo Tancredi was a young knight, rich, and of noble family. Francis met him one day in the neighbourhood of Rieti. He had never seen him before, he knew nothing whatever of him, but inspired by God, he went up to him and said—
"My brother, thou hast long worn belt, sword and spurs. Henceforth thy belt must be a rope, thy sword the Cross of Jesus Christ, and for spurs thou must have dust and mud. Follow me. I will make thee a soldier in the Christian Army."
Angelo's heart must have been prepared by God for this call, because we read that "the brave soldier immediately followed Francis as the Apostles followed our Lord."
New Recruits.
Those who lived with him say that he was distinguished by a "glorious simplicity," meaning, no doubt, that while he accepted the humility of his new life, he retained something of his distinguished manners, and chivalrous bearing. He was a personal friend of Francis', and one to whom he could always unburden his soul.
Guido of Cortono is said to have been a born Franciscan. Passing through Cortono, on a preaching tour, Francis found him ready, and almost waiting for him. He was a young man of singular purity of character. He had neither father nor mother, and lived quietly on the means they had left him. What was over from his income, he gave to the poor. After he had heard Francis preach, he went up to him and begged that he would come to his house, and make it his home as long as he stayed in Cortono. Francis consented, and as he and his companion followed Guido home, Francis said—
"By the grace of God this young man will be one of us, and will sanctify himself among his fellow-citizens."
After they had eaten and rested, Guido offered himself to Francis to be one of his disciples. Francis agreed to receive him upon condition that he should sell all his goods. This was done, apparently on the spot, for we read that the three went round the town, distributing the money. After this Francis conducted Guido into the Church, and there clothed him with the "beast" colored robe.
Guido retired to a place outside the city, and became the founder of a branch of the work. A small monastery was built, and such of his converts in the locality, as were called to be friars, Guido received.
Sometimes the very talk about what Francis was doing, was used of God to re-kindle the flame of love to Him in hearts where it had nearly been extinguished. Simply hearing of the crowds that were seeking forgiveness of sins, roused others to a sense of their eternal needs. Amongst this number was John Parenti.
Parenti was a magistrate, a clever, thinking man, who lived in the neighbourhood of Florence. He had long been very careless about his soul, and what little religion he ever had had was fast slipping out of his careless hold. He had heard of Francis, and the reformation that was taking place in Umbria, and meditated long and deeply on all that he heard, wondering, no doubt, if there was really "anything in it," or was it not "all mere excitement." Still, he was more than ever convinced that he himself had very little religion to boast of.
The Swineherd and his Pigs.
One evening he was taking a walk in the country when he met a swine-herd. This youth was in great difficulty over his contrary flock. As is the nature of pigs, mediæval or otherwise, they went in every direction except that in which they were wanted to go! Parenti stood looking on amused at the boy's efforts. With much labor at last he got them towards the stable door, and as they were rushing in he cried—
"Go in, you beasts, go in as the magistrates and judges go into hell!"
It was only the uncouth speech of an equally uncouth swine-herd, but God used it to the salvation of his soul. He began to think about the dangers of his profession, and the state in which he was living, and where he should really go to if he died. The business of salvation looked to him that evening as the only one worth taking up, and the straight and narrow road the only safe place.
He went home and confided all his hopes and fears to his son. Together they decided that they would go and find Francis, and tell him they wanted to change their life. They saw Francis, and before they left him, they had made up their minds to become friars. They came back, sold all their goods, and then put on the garment of the Order. Parenti was a valuable acquisition to the Order, and rose to considerable eminence in after days.
The Prince of Poets.
Perhaps one of the most remarkable of Francis' converts was Pacificus, as he was known in the Order. This man was a noted poet and musician. He was known throughout Italy as "The King of the Verses," and was considered to be the very prince of poets. He excelled in songs, and was greatly appreciated everywhere. His supremacy was so undoubted that several times he had received the poet's crown from the hands of the Emperor of Germany, that very same crown that afterwards adorned the brows of Petrarch and Tasso. He was visiting at San Severino when he met Francis.
A house of "Poor Ladies" had just been founded in this place, and Francis was preaching in their chapel. Some friends of Pacificus had relatives among the "Poor Ladies," and as they were going to visit them they asked him to come along too. He went, and as Francis was preaching they stopped to hear him. The tone, and the eloquence of the preacher, arrested Pacificus, and he could not hide his emotion as one truth after another struck his conscience. Francis perceiving that one hearer at least was touched by his words, turned the point of his discourse straight at him. The longer Pacificus listened, the more he was convinced not only that the hand of the Lord was upon him, but that a great work was required of him. As soon as the sermon was over, he asked to speak with Francis. That conversation completely won Pacificus. Francis spoke to him of the judgments of God, and the vanities of the world.
"Enough of words," cried the Poet, "let us have deeds! Withdraw me, I pray you, from men, and restore me to the supreme Emperor."
Francis was always a lover of decision, and the next day he gave him the habit, and took him on to Assisi with him. Ever after this the poet was known as Pacificus, in memory of the peace of Christ that that day flowed into his soul. His life was beautiful in its simplicity. His historian writes, "he seemed rather to forget what he had been, than have to make any violent effort to force himself to a new life." In other words, his life "was hid with Christ in God."
This conversion of Pacificus attracted a great deal of attention and did much towards advertising the Franciscans all over Europe.
Professor Pepoli.
Professor Pepoli filled an important chair in the Bologna University. He was converted through the preaching of Francis in Bologna. Of this preaching an eye witness writes:—
"I, Thomas, Archdeacon of the Cathedral Church, studying at Bologna, saw Francis preach in the square, where nearly the whole town was assembled. He spoke first of angels, and men, and devils. He explained the spiritual natures with such exactitude and eloquence that his hearers were astonished that such words could come from the mouth of so simple a man. Nor did he follow the usual course of preachers. His discourse resembles rather those harangues that are made by popular orators. At the conclusion he spake only of the extinction of hatred, and the urgency of concluding treaties of peace and compacts of union. His garment was soiled and torn, his person mean, his face pale, but God gave his words unheard of power. He even converted noblemen, whose unrestrained fury had bathed the country in blood, and many of them were reconciled."
Professor Pepoli came under the spell of this preaching. A little later all Bologna was electrified by hearing that he was about to give up his professorship and become one of Francis' disciples. His friends did all in their power to keep him. They pointed out to him how much he loved his studies and the glory that was his. All in vain. Professor Pepoli had already been accepted by Francis.
Three years later he died, greatly mourned by an entire monastery of which he had been the founder.
If there were one class of men that Francis took more interest in than another, after the lepers, it was the thieves and robbers that abounded all over Europe. One day a number of them came begging at the monastery. Angelo Tancredi opened the door to them and, true to his soldierly instincts, was very wroth at their impudence.
The Robbers.
"What!" he cried, "Robbers, evil-doers, assassins, have you no shame for stealing the goods of others, but would you devour the goods of the servants of God? You who are not worthy to live, and respect neither men or God. Get you hence, and never let me see you here again!"
The robbers departed, full of rage. Francis next appeared close on their heels, carrying with him some bread and wine that had been given to him. Angelo told him of the impudence of the robbers, and how he had served them. To his surprise, Francis was much grieved at his conduct, and reproved him for his cruelty.
"Go at once," he said, "and take this bread and wine and seek those robbers till you have found them, and offer them this bread from me, then ask their pardon, and pray them in my name to no longer do wrong, but fear God."
Angelo departed, while Francis stayed at home and prayed for the success of his undertaking. The robbers were found, and Angelo brought them back to the monastery where they not only sought the pardon of their sins, but became friars, and lived and died in true holiness.
One day Francis and some of the friars were passing round the foot of a great castle. It was evident there was some festival going on inside! The banner of the house floated over the gates, and the sound of trumpets were heard half over the country-side. The young Count of Montefeltro was about to be knighted.
"Come," said Francis, suddenly inspired, "let us go to the Castle, and with God's help perhaps we may make some spiritual knight."
As soon as the ceremony was ended, and the company began to pour out into the courtyard, Francis stood up on a low wall and began to preach. He spoke of the worthlessness of all earthly pleasures compared to the heavenly ones. He showed what the love of God could do in the human soul, pointing them to the apostles and martyrs as illustration, and contrasting the chivalry of the Christian heroes with that which was human glory only. It was an appropriate subject, and the people listened attentively.
Amongst the audience was a valiant knight, Count Orlando, Lord of Chiusi. Immediately after the sermon, he went to Francis and said—
"I should like to talk to you about the salvation of my soul."
"Most willingly," replied Francis, always courteous, "but this is not quite a fitting moment. You must honor those who have invited you. First go and dine with them, and after the repast we will converse at leisure."
Count Orlando did so, and returning to Francis they talked together. Very soon Orlando was happier than he had ever been in his life before, because he knew that his sins were all pardoned. Before he parted with Francis he said—
"I have in my domains a mountain called La Vernia. It is exactly suited to men who wish to live in solitude. If it please thee I will give it to thee most willingly."
Francis accepted the offer, and the mountain was used as a place where the brethren could go to pray, and rest when worn out with the fatigue of their work. It was really a huge plateau on top of a steep mountain, covered with trees. Amongst these, some little cells were constructed, and a quieter, more restful place it would be hard to imagine.
The Peasant's Advice.
It was when Francis was climbing this mountain once, that a peasant, who took him up on his ass, asked him—
"Are you the Francis of Assisi that is so much talked of?"
"Yes," said Francis, "I am."
"Well," responded the man, "You will have hard work to be as good as they say you are. They have such confidence in you, it is difficult for you to be equal to it, at least that is my opinion."
Francis was charmed with this opinion, and thanked the man for his charitable advice, but before that journey was ended, the peasant was convinced that Francis was as good as "they" said he was.
Our readers must not imagine that Francis' converts were all men. Far from it. Many women, besides Clara and Agnes, had to thank God that he ever came their way and taught them how to love and serve God.
"Our Brother Jacqueline!"
There was Jacqueline. She was of noble family, and though she did not leave the world like Clara, yet she served the cause right nobly. She was a most unusual woman for her times. We are told that "she was not afraid of business!" She went in person and treated with the Benedictines, and induced them to give up certain buildings in favor of the Friars Minor. All her riches and influence she put at the disposal of the Franciscans, who had no more active patron than Jacqueline. Francis used to call her jokingly "our brother Jacqueline!"
On one of the last tours Francis was able to make, he suffered much from pain and depression. To cheer him, says a historian, God gave him a piece of work to do for Him. He was passing through a place called Voluisiano, when a young lady, the wife of the baron of the place, ran after him. When she caught up with him she was very much out of breath. Francis looked at her with interest, and asked—
"What can I do for you, Madam?"
"I want you to bless me," she said.
"Are you married?" went on Francis.
"Oh, yes," said the girl, "and my husband is very stern. He sets himself against my serving Jesus Christ. He is my great trouble. I have received a right will from Heaven, and I cannot follow it on account of him. Will you pray that God may soften his heart?"
"My daughter," Francis said in great compassion, "Go, I am assured your husband will become your consolation. Tell him this from God and me, 'Now is the time of salvation, recompense will surely come.'"
Then he gave her his blessing.
The lady went home, and finding her husband, gave him Francis' message. The Spirit of God carried it to his inmost soul.
"He is right," he said to his wife, "Let us serve God together, and save our souls in our own house!"
"The Lord be praised," cried his wife, and together they thanked God for the gift of His wonderful salvation. They lived for a great many years in godliness and holiness, and passed away to be with Christ, the one in the morning and the other in the evening of the same day.
A Catalogue of Names.
Other equally interesting incidents, we have no doubt cluster round what, unfortunately, the historians present to us in the form of a catalogue of mere names.