“ST. FRANCIS AND THE BIRDS,” BY A CONTEMPORARY.
Roger of Wendover, a contemporary of St. Francis, in noticing his death in 1227, thus describes him: “This servant of God, Francis, built an oratory in Rome, and, like a noble warrior, engaged in battle against evil spirits and carnal vices. When the Roman people despised him, he said, ‘I have preached the Gospel of the Redeemer to you. I therefore call on Him to bear witness to your desolation, and go forth to preach the Gospel of Christ to the brute beasts, and to the birds of the air, that they may hear the life-giving words of God and be obedient to them.’ He then went out of the city, and in the suburbs found crows sitting among the dead bodies, kites, magpies, and other birds flying about in the air, and said to them, ‘I command you in the name of Jesus Christ, whom the Jews crucified, and whose preaching the wretched Romans have despised, to come to me and hear the Word of God in the name of Him who created you and preserved Noah in the ark from the waters of the deluge.’ All that flock of birds then drew near and surrounded him; and having ordered silence, all kinds of chirping were hushed, and those birds listened to the words of the man of God for the space of half a day without moving from the spot, and the whole time looked in the face of the preacher. This wonderful circumstance was discovered by the Romans passing and repassing to and from the city; and when the same had been repeated by the man of God to the assembled birds, the clergy and crowds of people went out and brought back the man of God with great reverence. And he then softened their obdurate hearts. His fame spread abroad, and many of noble birth, following his example, left the world and its vices. The order of the brethren soon increased and scattered the seed of the Word of God and the dew of the heavenly doctrine.”
BONAVENTURA ON “ST. FRANCIS AND THE BIRDS.”
Bonaventura, in his Life of St. Francis, thus explains the circumstance which Giotto the painter made the basis of his painting: “Drawing nigh to Bevagno, Francis came to a certain place where a vast multitude of birds of different kinds were gathered together, whom seeing, the man of God ran hastily to the spot, and saluting them, as if they had been his fellows in reason (while they all turned round and bent their heads in attentive expectation), he admonished them, saying, ‘Brother birds, greatly are ye bound to praise your Creator who clotheth you with feathers, and giveth you wings to fly with and a pure air to breathe in, and who careth for you who have so little care for yourselves.’ While he thus spake the little birds, marvellously commoved, began to spread their wings, stretch forth their necks, and open their beaks, attentively gazing upon him. And he, glowing in the spirit, passed through the midst of them, and even touched them with his robe, yet not one stirred from his place until the man of God gave them leave, when with his blessing and at the sign of the cross they all flew away. These things saw his companions who waited for him on the road; to whom returning, the simple and pure-minded man began greatly to blame himself for having never hitherto preached to the birds.” One of the pictures by Giotto in the church of Assisium represents this legend, also a small picture in the Louvre at Paris.
ST. ANTONY PREACHING TO THE FISHES (A.D. 1231).
St. Antony of Padua being come to the city of Rimini, where were many heretics and unbelievers, he was heard to say, that he might as well preach to the fishes, for they would more readily listen to him. The heretics stopped their ears and refused to listen to him; whereupon he repaired to the seashore, and stretching forth his hand, he said, “Hear me, ye fishes, for these unbelievers refuse to listen.” And truly it was a marvellous thing to see how an infinite number of fishes, great and little, lifted their heads above water and listened attentively to the sermon of the saint. The saint addressed them, and part of his sermon was as follows: “It is God that has furnished for you the world of waters with lodgings, chambers, caverns, grottoes, and such magnificent retirements as are not to be met with in the seats of kings or in the palaces of princes. You have the water for your dwelling, a clear, transparent element, brighter than crystal. You can see from its deepest bottom everything that passes on its surface. You have the eyes of a lynx or of an argus. The colds of winter and the heats of summer are equally incapable of molesting you. A serene or a clouded sky is indifferent to you. Let the earth abound in fruits, or be cursed with scarcity, it has no influence on your welfare. You live secure in rains and thunders, lightnings and earthquakes. You have no concern in the blossoms of spring or in the glowings of summer, in the fruits of autumn or in the frosts of winter. You are not solicitous about hours or days or months or years, the variableness of the weather or the change of seasons. You alone were preserved among all the species of creatures that perished in the universal deluge. For these things you ought to be grateful; and since you cannot employ your tongues in the praises of your Benefactor, make at least some reverence—bow yourselves at His name.” He had no sooner done speaking than the fish bowed their heads and moved their bodies, as if approving what had been spoken by St. Antony. Heretics who had listened were converted, and the saint gave his benediction to the fishes and dismissed them.
ST. ROCH AND THE SUFFERERS FROM PLAGUE.
St. Roch was born of noble and wealthy parents at Montpellier in 1280. He was seized early with a consuming passion to render help to the sick and the poor, and abandoned all his wealth to become a pilgrim. He was eager to minister to the most helpless and to the plague-stricken. He was attacked during this mission with fever and ulcers, and crawled into the street; but being driven away for fear of contagion, he retired to the woods to die. There help came to him. He had a faithful little dog, and it went every day to the city and brought back to him a loaf of bread. An angel also came and dressed his wounds. He gloried in his sufferings; and at last, haggard and wasted, he returned to his own country and estate; but his relatives did not know him, and he was cast into prison and died. A bright supernatural light glowed around his dead body, and then it was discovered who he was. He died aged thirty-three. A hundred years later his great deeds were remembered, and his effigy was used to save Constance from the plague. The Venetians, when plague-stricken in 1485, also coveted his relics, and a plot to steal them was contrived. One night a conspirator carried off the saint’s body from Montpellier; and the doge, senate, and clergy of Venice, with inexpressible joy, went forth to meet the pious thief, and they built a magnificent church of St. Roch to contain the priceless relics. He and his dog were often painted by the great painters, and Rubens got a large sum for one of his great pictures on that subject for the confraternity of St. Roch at Venice. He is the patron saint of hospitals.