Brother Francis; Or, Less than the Least

by Eileen Douglas

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 honoured him, he still kept his simple faith and humble spirit.

After 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' 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' decision to draw up a definite rule was far from 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, so 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 intact. It is very largely an amplication 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.

Keeping Christmas.

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 goodwill 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 whole with an unearthly lurid 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 goodwill" in souls once darkened and lifeless.

A Great Task.

But all this time, ever since he returned from Egypt, Francis' health was slowly but surely failing. Weak and ill, and 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 di Quintavelle stepped into Elias' place, ultimately, he had all his foes close to hand round home, where the Franciscan principles had taken deepest root.