Brother Francis; Or, Less than the Least

by Eileen Douglas

One day while he was thinking, as he often did, about his absent friends, the thought occurred to him that something might be done to alleviate this separation. Something, too, that would benefit the entire Order. Twice a year it was arranged that all the brethren, new and old, should meet at the Portiuncula. This idea proved to be so good that it became one of the fundamental rules of the Order.

A Curious Scene.

The first of these "Chapters," as they were called, was held after Francis had completed his tour in Central Italy. The brethren came from far and near. They came pouring in from all quarters, up from the valleys, and down from the mountains, and from the shining sea-coast, streams of brown-robed, bare-footed men of all classes and conditions of life. And what were they coming to? A little church and convent as poor as themselves, where there were not even provisions enough on hand to supply one-hundredth part of the hundreds that were flocking there with one meal! But in perfect faith and trust they came, plodding along under the blazing sun, some rapt in meditation, others saluting all they met with their gentle salutation, "the peace of God."

Such a sight was never seen in Italy before, and from castle and city poured glittering vividly-colored groups to see the wonderful sight. The richly-colored garments of the crowd, and the gaily-decked cavalcade from the country and castle formed a brilliant foil to the brown-robed stream of friars. The Portiuncula is situated on one of the lowest slopes of the Appenine hills, below it stretches the wide plain. This was the guest-chamber. There were no other beds than the bare ground, with here and there a little straw. But we need not pity them as far as sleeping out of doors goes, because the Umbrian nights are of all things most beautiful. The air was soft and warm, and the brilliant blue-starred heavens above did away with any need of artificial light.

Francis met this crowd with great pleasure and cheerfulness, though he had not a crust to offer them. When they were all assembled he told them with sublime faith to give no thought as to what they were to eat or drink, but only to praise God. And his faith was rewarded. The people came from Perugia, Spoleto, Foligno, and Assisi, and from all the neighboring country to carry meat and drink to that strange congregation. They came with horses and asses, and carts laden with bread and cheese and beans and other good things, and besides this they brought plates, and jugs, and knives; and knights, and barons, and other noblemen, who had come to look on, waited on the brothers with much devotion. It was such sight as once seen could never be forgotten.

Three Grades.

In these chapters Francis was at his best, and happily the historians of the time have preserved for us details of his mode of work. He was there to spend and be spent. His one desire was that the brethren should gain a renewal of spiritual strength in the days passed together, and at the same time that the Order in general should be benefited. To attain the first end, he employed what we have pointed out before as being one of his strongest points—private and individual dealing. As we have also already intimated, we feel sure that the greater part of his phenomenal success resulted from this. In his own mind he had the brethren carefully graded. There were three divisions. First, the fervent; second, the troubled in spirit; and thirdly, the tepid. The correctness with which he assigned everyone to his proper place was well-nigh divine. At the time of writing the fervent were numerous, but they were likely to be carried away by an exaggerated zeal. Some of them wore chains, and were ruining their health with over-watchings and fastings. Francis boldly forbade this. He would have none of it. He spoke to such kindly and tenderly, but he also spoke forcibly in commending that reason which must regulate piety, as it regulates human life. By precise and detailed rules he delivered the fervent from exhausting their strength before its time, and thus preserved them for their work. But it was not an easy task that of controlling the fervent, especially when there was a spice of self-will in addition to the fervency.

In a large community, such as Francis now had on his hands, there is always sure to be a large percentage of troubled ones. Francis well knew this, he knew that the devil was always on the alert, that trials without and within are the lot of every mortal. These troubled ones found in their leader a tower of strength. To him they poured out their most secret confidences. The difficulties they had with uncongenial brethren, their interior doubts and fears, and awful dread that such might one day cause them to fall away. Francis showed all such the sincerest compassion. They knew and felt or that he loved them. His sympathy was a remedy in itself. They left him cheered and refreshed and strengthened.

Human weakness is never slow in showing itself, and the tepid were easily recognized. They were generally those who had made a very good beginning, but had allowed their zeal to cool and were becoming unfaithful to the grace God had given them, and to the rules of the Order. Francis was always gentle to these as he was gentle to all, but he knew how to maintain his authority—to reprove, blame, and correct. He followed the Divine recommendation, "If thy brother shall offend thee, go and rebuke him between thee and him alone." His happiness was complete if he could gain the tepid brother.

Duty of Humility.