Chapter V (1)

On the way home Mina opened her eyes, but she remained mute and mournful. But when, after she had been placed on a lounge in the lower hall of her dwelling, she saw that her father was about to direct Johann to hasten the arrival of a leech, she bent over to the old sculptor and retained him with a hand cold as ice.

"I would speak a word with Johann alone," she murmured. "Wilt thou permit me, my father?"

"Surely," replied the old man, fixing upon her a look of wonder, but hastening to leave the chamber.

Then Mina feebly called Johann, and made him a sign to sit at her feet.

"Thou saidst one day, my good brother Johann," said she, "that thou wouldst spare no effort, recoil from no risk to procure me joy or happiness."

"So said I; so will I do," answered the poor youth, bending on her a look full of emotion.

"Then, Johann, thou canst preserve my greatest happiness, cause my greatest joy. I know that I cannot deceive thee; I noted thy gaze when Hans Barthing spoke of the marriage of Otho and Gertrude. Know then, Johann, that the knight of Arneck is my true--my only love; and now I would know if he hath betrayed me. It is peace of heart I need for my cure, Johann, and not the skill of the leech. Depart then, good Johann, and go to Horsheim. There thou wilt easily learn who is the countess's betrothed. And thou mayest even, without being perceived, see them pass by together, speaking low, walking hand in hand, believing themselves alone. Thou wilt return and tell me all, Johann, and I will gain strength to live until thy return; for it would be too bitter to die if Otho remaineth faithful. Thou wilt go--wilt thou not, my brother--my only friend?"

Johann's only reply was a kiss imprinted on Mina's hand and a silent pressure of her taper fingers, while two great tears rolled from his eyes. Then he departed from the House of the Angel, and, after having called the physician, saddled his horse and left the town that very evening, following the line of the high hills which stretched away toward the Rauhe Alps, at the foot of which was the castle of Horsheim.

To be Continued.

------

{494}

Original.

Forebodings.

Pretty Nan to Flora said,
"Prithee, why so gay?"
Dark-eyed Flora bent her head:
"_He_ is gone away."

"Strange!" quoth Nan. "If 'twere my heart,
None could be more sad.
Absence gives the keenest smart.
Tell me, why art glad?"

Dark-eyed Flora, with a sigh,
'Gan to braid her hair,
Whilst to Nan she made reply:
"Hark! my sister dear.

"Chanced it on a summer morn,
Laughingly I chose
These long tresses to adorn
With a beauteous rose.

"Of the flower he made request,
I in wilfulness
Did refuse, and as a jest
Gave _it_ a caress.

"But I did not long deny.
Said I: Plucked for you,
Take; but care it tenderly,
'Tis my rose-love true.

"Nameless was the pain and dread
Filled my aching heart.
Soon I saw my rose-love dead,
Idly torn apart.

"Thus he would my heart's love fling
Coldly, idly by.
Than to wear his wedding-ring,
Rather would I die.

"Ah! the cruel, ugly smart!
Fear my love did slay.
Pined I sadly in my heart
Till he went away.

"'Gainst the power of his voice
All in vain I strove.
Freed by absence, I rejoice,
Now I dare to love!"

------

{495}

Abridged from The Dublin University Magazine.

The Minor Brethren.

[The ensuing portion of an article from which we have stricken out the
remainder on account of its objectionable statements, although not
strictly in conformity with the Catholic view of the lives of the saints,
furnishes a graphic sketch of the life of St. Francis, and an evidence of
the approximation many Protestants are making toward a more candid and
reasonable view of Catholic subjects.--ED. C. W.]

The towns of Italy were in advance of those of other countries; many of them were beautifully built, and celebrated for their wealthy and powerful citizens. Such a town was Assisi in Umbria, and such a citizen was Pietro Bernadone when his son Francisco was born--Francisco Bernadone, afterward Pater Minorum, Pater Seraphicus, then St. Francis, with a place among the saints in the hagiology of the church, now high up on stained-glass windows of thousands of churches, in illuminated missals, imperishable in history, and honored by men of all subsequent times and creeds as a great reformer and benefactor to humanity, an ardent, enthusiastic Christian. We shall contemplate the character and work of St. Francis as the "SALT" infused into the world at one of those periods of its corruption, and in order to do this we shall endeavor to delineate the man as clearly as we can from the acts of his life and the emanations of his mind; then examine his great work, and its effect upon the church in general, and upon that of our own country in particular.

We shall endeavor to portray St. Francis, the founder of the Friars Minors, not according to the phantoms of imagination, or the caricatures of prejudice, but from the records of his life, and still more efficiently from his works and sayings. Fortunately the materials are ample. There is a life of St. Francis, written by Thomas of Celano, the probable author of the sublime mediaeval hymn, the "Dies Irae," and, as he was a follower and an intimate friend of the saint, he writes with authority. At the command of Gregory IX., he committed to writing his knowledge of the life of St. Francis, which work was called the "Legenda."

A second life was written by John of Ceperano; a third by an Englishman, being a metrical version of that of Celano; a fourth by three companions of the saint, (_a Tribus Sociis_,) Leo, Angelus, and Ruffinus, compiled at the command of the minister-general of the order, Father Crescentius; a fifth by the same Thomas of Celano, being a fuller sketch, at the request also of Crescentius; and a sixth, written at the request of nearly the whole order by St. Bonaventura, who, when a child, had seen the saint.

All of these biographies are extant in the Acta Sanctorum, written in what Carlyle would term "monk or dog Latin, still readable to mankind." [Footnote 146] His works are scanty, but such as they are, they bear the impress of the man's mind. It must be remembered that St. Francis made no pretensions to being a scholar, a theologian, or an author; in fact, he was a little inclined to deprecate these things; therefore, his literary remains are only a few letters, hymns, addresses, colloquies, predictions, and apothegms.

[Footnote 146: Past and Present.]

His father, though an avaricious man, yet lived in the profuse style characteristic of the leading Italian merchants, and young Francisco was brought up accordingly, so that his youth, up to the age of twenty-five, was spent in vanity. {496} During that time, he excelled all his companions in gay frivolity, and the vices common to a young man with a rich father, proud of his son. He was the admiration of all, and led many astray by his example. He dressed in soft and flowing robes, spent his time in jesting, wanton conversation, and singing songs. Being rich, he was not avaricious, but prodigal; not having to work for his fortune, he cheerfully set about spending that of his father.

An incident is recorded in the life by the three companions which is not mentioned by Thomas of Celano nor Bonaventura.[Footnote 147] It is, that during a disturbance between the citizens of Assisi and the people of Perugia, young Francisco was captured, and, with others, placed in prison. Whilst there his manner was so different from the rest, they being sad and he more gay than ever, that they asked him the reason. "What do you take me for?" said he. "I shall yet be adored all over the world." He spent nearly a year in this durance, and, when peace was declared, returned to Assisi, and devoted his attention to the sale of his father's wares, until his conversion, which happened some years later. During the interval he fell ill, and began to lament for the sin of his past life, and to make resolutions of amendment. He recovered, and, with the recovery, the penitence and the resolutions all vanished.

[Footnote 147: It is alluded to, however, in the life of St. Columba
Reatina.]

He pursued his former life until a circumstance happened which very nearly changed his whole career. A certain nobleman of Assisi was about to undertake a military expedition against Apulia, and young Francisco was immediately fired with the longing to become a soldier. He had a mysterious dream, which he misinterpreted into an encouragement. After making all preparations, he set out and reached as far as Spoleto, where he had another dream which convinced him of his mistake, and sent him back to Assisi. From that time he began to reflect, and in the embarrassment of his thoughts would retire into solitary places, and pray to God to guide him and direct him what to do.

He spoke in enigmas, and told his friends that he should not go to Apulia, but would make his name famous at home. In reply, they demanded what were his plans? was he going to take a wife? "I am"--said Francisco--"I am going to take a more beautiful and noble wife than you have ever seen, who will excel in beauty and wisdom all women."

He now took to fasting, prayer, and almsgiving. The mysterious work had commenced; his whole nature changed; he isolated himself from all his companions, began to hear voices from heaven, to see visions, and to listen to calls from the Invisible.

Whilst in this state, he was one day returning from a neighboring market, where he had sold some of his father's goods, and passed by the church of St. Damian, which had fallen into ruins. A light flashed upon his mind. He had previously, when praying in the fields, heard a voice say to him, "Francis, go and repair my house," and therefore, without a moment's hesitation, he entered the church, found the old priest, bowed before him, kissed his hands, implored him to accept the money which he was taking home, and permit him to remain there. The cautious priest allowed him to remain, but refused to take his father's money, when Francisco, in a fit of indignation, threw it aside contemptuously.

By this time the father began to be uneasy about the fate of his eccentric son and set out to make inquiries for him. Francisco then retired to a neighboring cavern. Here he staid some time, but at last, resolving to brave it out, he returned, wasted and wan, to Assisi. The people thought him mad, and pelted him through the streets, when his father, hearing a noise, went out, and, recognizing his son, seized him, dragged him home chastised him severely, shut him up in a dark place, and firmly bound him, that he might be safe till he returned from a journey he was about to take.

{497}

In the father's absence, however, the mother, after trying in vain to reason with him, let him go, and he immediately returned to the church where he had been hiding. His father, upon his return, upbraided his wife for releasing his disobedient son, and resolved upon bringing the matter to a settlement.

To this end he went to the church, saw Francisco, and, finding him more obstinate than ever, decided upon letting him have his own way, but, with characteristic prudence, demanded the money from his son which he had received for his goods. This being restored, he was appeased, and then suggested that, as Francisco had devoted himself to poverty, he would not require any patrimony, and might release his father from all claim upon him. To this Francisco willingly consented. A formal document was prepared, and the parties appeared before the bishop, when Francisco not only renounced his inheritance, but, taking off his clothes, threw them to his father, with these words: "Up to now I have called thee my father on earth, but now I can securely say, My Father, who art in heaven." The bishop was so delighted that he embraced him, and gave him his cloak.

Thus was Francisco divorced from the world, from father, mother, and kindred, and married to poverty, to whom from this time forth he devoted his life. An incident is recorded of him here which was indicative of one portion of his great work. He was out alone on a certain day, when a wretched leper crossed his path. Francisco instinctively shrunk from the sight, but, suddenly recollecting that his object was to subdue himself, he ran after the leper, seized his hand, and kissed it.

From that time he resolved to adopt the care of the lepers as a peculiar portion of his work, and we find him shortly afterward entering the leper hospital and devoting himself to their service, washing their sores with his own hands, dressing them, and once even kissing them.[Footnote 148] Then he returned once more to Assisi, the scene of his youthful revelry, and in the garb of a mendicant begged in the streets from those who once knew him in luxury, for money to rebuild the church of St. Damian, as he felt the injunction to do so was still upon him.

[Footnote 148: Bonaventura says: "Educebat plagarum putredinem et saniem
abstergebat."]

His enthusiasm told upon men's minds, and money flowed in rapidly, so that he not only rebuilt that church, but another also, St. Mary of Porzioncula, which he then frequented, and to which he was ever afterward deeply attached. One day when attending mass in this church, and the gospel was read, the words, "Take nothing for your journey, neither staves nor scrip, neither bread nor money, neither have two coats apiece," sank deep into his soul. He went out of the church, took off his shoes, laid aside his staff, threw away his wallet, contented himself with a small tunic and a rope for a girdle, struck out for the strict apostolic rule, and endeavored to persuade others to follow his example.

The first instance of the mighty contagion of that example occurred in the conversion of one Bernard de Quintavalle, a man of wealth and repute, who came to Francisco, and offered himself and his all to him. The saint proposed that they should go to the church of St. Nicholas and seek for guidance. They did so, and, when the mass was over, the priest opened the missal, after making the sign of the cross. The first response was, "If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor;" the second, "Take nothing for your journey;" and the third, "If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me." "Let us obey the divine command," said Francis. Bernard immediately did so to the letter, and adopted the same dress as his master.

{498}

Thus was the foundation laid of that great order of Minor Brethren. It is possible that St. Francis, for we must call him now by his canonized name, had not dreamt of such a thing as founding an order; but converts increased; Peter of Catania and four others. Egidius Sabbatini, John de Capella, and Sylvester were then added, and they all retired to a hut in the plain of Rivo Torto.

When they numbered eight, St. Francis gave them a solemn charge, and dismissed them by twos in different directions to preach the gospel of peace and forgiveness. They met after a short time, and, as their numbers increased so rapidly, St. Francis drew up his first rule, which differed very little from that of the Benedictines, save that it enjoined at the outset a solemn injunction, ingeniously evaded afterward, that they should have no property, but live in obedience and chastity. "Regula et vita istorum patrum haec est scilicet vivere in obedientia et in castitate et sine proprio." Their clothing was to be of the poorest kind; for novices for one year, "duas tunicas sine caputio et cingulum et braccas et caparonem usque ad cingulum;" for those who were finally admitted, "unicam tunicam cum caputio et aliam sine caputio, in necesse, fuerit et cingulum et braccas." No brother should be called "prior," but all should be termed Minor Brethren, "fratres minores," and the one should wash the other's feet.

Humility was strictly enjoined. They were to live on charity; to beg their bread if necessary, and not to be ashamed, but rather to remember that our Lord Jesus Christ was not ashamed, was poor and a stranger, and lived on charity, both he and his disciples. They were stringently cautioned against women, or, as St. Francis ungallantly puts it, "A malo visu et frequentia mulierum." Wherever they went, they were to remember that, and no one of them was to counsel women in secret. They were to travel on foot; not to have any beast, save from extreme infirmity, or the most urgent necessity. [Footnote 149]

[Footnote 149: Quod nullo modo apud se nec apud alium, nec aliquo modo
bestiam aliquam habeant.]

Having drawn up this rule, St. Francis, with two or three of his followers, went to Rome to procure the pope's sanction to the order. They met the pope on a terrace of the Lateran Palace, and threw themselves at his feet. He, annoyed at the interruption, turned away indignantly from these men with bare, unwashed feet and coarse attire, and bid them begone. They retired to pray, whilst Innocent III. in the night had a vision which induced him to send the next morning for those strange men whom he had repulsed. He received them graciously, approved of their rule, and they departed in joy to Assisi. His march back was a triumph. The people came out to meet him from the villages, and many deserted their homes to join him on the spot. The next step taken by St. Francis was to make a modification in his rule: he found many people were converted to his views, but from the ties of children and business occupations could not possibly follow him.

To meet such wants, he instituted what was called an Order of Penitents, by which those who joined were compelled to pray, to fast, and to live according to certain rules, and wore beneath their ordinary garb the penitential girdle. This Order included both sexes, and people of all classes. One member of it was, however, destined to greater things, the young and beautiful Clara, a daughter of the house of Ortolana. She had, from childhood, been brought up most religiously by her mother, and the weird eloquence of St. Francis finished the task.

An interview was arranged, and the saint suggested an elopement, which was successfully effected, and Clara was abducted by St. Francis to the church of Porzioncula. Many other young ladies soon followed, and it was then necessary to institute new rules for these fair converts. {499} The church of St. Damian, which St. Francis had rebuilt, was turned into a convent, with Clara (who was afterward canonized as St. Clara) as its abbess. A letter is extant in the works of the saint, which runs as follows: "Francis, to his very dear Sister Clara, and the Convent of the Sisters of St. Damian, health in Christ. Because by the inspiration of our Lord ye have made yourselves daughters and handmaidens of the Highest, of the most high King and heavenly Father, and have betrothed yourselves to the Holy Spirit to live according to the teaching of the gospel; it is my will, and I promise that I and my brethren will have always for you the same diligent care and special solicitude as for ourselves. Farewell in the Lord."

In the year 1216, the first general council of the new order was held in the Porzioncula, when Tuscany, Lombardy, Provence, Spain, and Germany were assigned to the principal followers of St. Francis as mission grounds. The saint himself took France as his own field of operations. At this point a meeting took place between St. Francis and one who stands in the church almost on an equality with him, Dominic, the founder of the order of Friars Preachers.

Three years after the first, the second council was held, and a grand sight it was--five thousand brethren encamped around the church. To this great body, infused with the spirit of one man, Ugolino was introduced, and made such a flattering speech, and gave such glowing predictions of their future power and glory, that St. Francis became alarmed, and quickly perceived that, if the protector were allowed to have free play, he would soon ruin his charge. He therefore interfered, reiterated the severity of their rule which forbade all dreams of glory or power, told them they must always be the Minor Brethren, the poor of the world, and after redistributing them amongst several countries, broke up the assembly never more to venture on another gathering into one spot of such inflammable materials. When they were all dispersed, their great founder went upon a holy mission to the army then under the walls of Damietta. He advised the Christians not to engage with the Saracens, and predicted their defeat if they did, but the army were too eager for plunder and bloodshed. They engaged, and six thousand slaughtered Christians fulfilled the prophecy.

Then St. Francis resolved upon taking a step which made his name still more famous in history. Confiding his project to only one, who was to accompany him, Illuminatus [Footnote 150] by name, St. Francis, although a reward was set upon the head of every Christian, wandered up to the lines of the enemy, was seized, and taken before the sultan. Strange to say, instead of ordering him to be executed, the sultan received him courteously, listened to his preaching patiently, and asked him to remain with him in his tent. St. Francis replied, "I will remain willingly with you, if you and your people will only become converted to Christ; but if you doubt, order a fire to be kindled, and I will enter into it with your priests, and see who is right." The sultan, who had perceived that one of the chief priests had vanished at these words, replied: "I do not think any of my priests would submit to the torture for the sake of their religion." Then said St. Francis: "If you will promise for yourself and your people to adopt the Christian religion if I come out uninjured, I will enter it alone." The sultan, however, declined, and after vainly offering rich presents to St. Francis, sent him back in safety to the Christian camp.

[Footnote 150: It is sometimes stated that St. Francis went alone, but
the lives by St. Bonaventura, by the Tres Socii, and by St. Thomas of
Celano, all mention this Illuminatus as his companion.]

{500}

After this memorable interview. St. Francis returned, preaching in all the countries as he passed through. One day after his return, as he was praying in the church of St. Mary, Porzioncula, a vision of our Saviour appeared, and promised that, to all who should thereafter confess their sins in that church, plenary remission should be granted. St. Francis immediately went to the pope at Perugia, and procured the granting of the indulgence, in consequence of which a ceremony is held to this day annually, in the church of St. Mary of the Angels, when the peasantry assemble to confess their sins and receive the promised indulgence.

Then comes the last great tradition of his life--the receiving the stigmata. It is recorded, and firmly attested by the great men who wrote his biography, that, on a certain morning, at the hour of the holy sacrifice, when St. Francis was praying on the side of Mount Avernia, Jesus Christ appeared to him under the form of a seraph crucified on the cross, and when the vision had disappeared, St. Francis was marked with the wounds of Christ in his hands, his feet, and his side.

Various grave discussions arose amongst the faithful about the truth of this legend. Only nineteen years after its presumed occurrence a Dominican preacher had declared openly his disbelief of it, but then he was a Dominican. The Bishop of Olmutz, however, followed in the wake, when Pope Gregory IX. (Ugolino of old) wrote, reproaching them with their want of faith; and Alexander IV., who succeeded, declared he had seen with his own eyes the stigmata of St. Francis.

Shortly after this incident, St. Francis sickened, and, exhausted by long fastings and vigils, wasted gradually, until, as Bonaventura says, he was only skin and bone--"quasi sola cutis ossibus cohaereret." One day, during his illness, a companion said to him: "Brother, pray to God that he may have mercy upon thee, and not lay his hand so severely upon thee." St. Francis reproved him for such a speech, and, though he was very weak, threw himself on the ground, and, kissing the earth, said: "I thank thee, O Lord God, for all my pains; and I pray thee, if it be thy will, multiply them a hundred-fold, because it will be most acceptable to me; for the fulfilment of thy will in me will be my supreme consolation." And his brethren noticed that, as his bodily pains increased, his joy was greater. He predicted the day of his death, and begged to be carried to his beloved Porzioncula, that he might yield up his spirit at that spot where he had first received divine grace. It was done, and he insisted upon being laid naked upon the bare ground, when he turned to his companions and said: "I have done my part; what yours is, may Christ teach you." When his last hour was come, he had all the brethren on the spot called to him, addressed them kindly on preserving their vows of poverty, and upholding the faith of the Catholic Church; he then laid his hands upon them, and pronounced his blessing upon all present and absent. "Farewell," said he, "all my sons; be strong in the fear of God, and remain in that always; and since future temptation and tribulation are near, blessed are they who continue in the things they have begun. But I hasten to God, to whose grace I commend you all." Then he called for a copy of the gospels, and asked them to read him that of St. John, beginning at the words, "Before the day of the passover," etc., when he suddenly broke out into the psalm: "Voce mea ad Dominum clamavi, voce mea ad Dominum deprecatus sum," continued to the words, "Me expect justi donec retribuas mihi," when, as they died away on his lips, the spirit of the great founder passed gently out of his poor emaciated body, and returned to its Maker.

Thus died St. Francis, in the odor of sanctity; and perhaps we cannot more appropriately conclude this brief outline of his life than by giving a translation of a sketch of his character and personal appearance, as written by one who knew him, Thomas of Celano, the author of the Dies Irae. {501} It forms a graphic portrait of the man, and may serve as a fair specimen of hagiography. In his life of the saint, he thus writes:

"Oh! how beautiful, how splendid, how glorious did he appear in the
innocence of his life, in the simplicity of his words, in the purity of
his heart, in his love of God, in brotherly charity, in fragrant
obedience, in angelic aspect! Gentle in manners, placid in nature,
affable in conversation, faithful in undertakings, of admirable foresight
in counsel, able in business, gracious to all, serene in mind, gentle in
temper, sober in spirit, stable in contemplation, persevering in grace,
and in all things the same; swift to indulge, to anger slow, free in
intellect, in memory bright, subtle in dissertation, circumspect in
choice, simple in all things; rigid toward himself, pious toward others,
discreet to everybody; a most eloquent man, of cheerful aspect, and
benevolent countenance, free from idleness, void of insolence. He was of
the middle stature, rather inclined to shortness; his head was of the
medium size, and round, with an oblong and extended face, a small smooth
forehead, black and simple eyes, dark brown hair and straight eyebrows;
his nose was thin, well proportioned, and straight; his ears erect and
small, and his temples were smooth; his tongue was placable, though fiery
and sharp; his voice was vehement, though sweet, clear, and sonorous; his
teeth well set, regular, and white; his lips of moderate size; his beard
was black, and not very thick; his neck thin; his shoulders straight,
with small arms, thin hands, long fingers and nails; he had thin legs,
small feet, a delicate skin, and very little flesh. He wore a rough vest,
took very little sleep, and though he was most humble, he showed every
courtesy to all men, conforming himself to the manners of every one. As
he was holy amongst the holy, so amongst sinners he was as one of them."
[Footnote 151]

[Footnote 151: Thomas de Celano in Vita Sti. Francisci. Acta Sanct.]

Before we advance further, we must say a few words upon a subject well known to all who have investigated the originals of ecclesiastical history--the miracles attributed to the saints. Their biographies are spangled with miracles--that of St. Francis especially. The Acta Sanctorum is a compilation of some fifty or sixty folio volumes, containing sometimes five or six different lives of each saint, written by men in different ages and countries, ranging from the eighth to the fourteenth century. All these writers unite in one thing, the ascription of miraculous powers to the saints. The question then arises, can this be wholly and entirely false? can it be utterly without one grain of truth in it?--a tissue of falsehoods wilful, wanton falsehoods consistently written by men at vastly different times, and in remotely distant countries? We must premise at once that we are not for a moment going to defend the absolute truth of the wonders attributed to the saints. We do not believe for an instant that their bodies were sometimes lifted from the earth, and carried up into the sky, like St. Francis; or that they walked dry-footed over the sea, as did St. Birim, when he left the corporalia behind him at Boulogne; nor that commands and directions were given them direct from heaven, through the medium of crosses, images, or pictures; but we cannot help reflecting as to whether it is possible for such a systematic body of history to be handed down to posterity in one continuity of falsehood for some eight or nine centuries; or whether we may come to the conclusion that it is a superstructure of exaggeration built up upon some basis of truth. It may help us, perhaps, at the outset, to notice what were the characters of the writers of these lives; were they men likely to be deluded by fanaticism, or likely to lend themselves to the perpetration and perpetuation of wanton falsehood?

{502}

If we turn over the volumes of the Acta Sanctorum, we shall find, on the contrary, some of the brightest names in the annals of literature, piety, and philanthropy; some of the deepest scholars, the most acute reasoners, the most elaborate thinkers recorded in the annals of fame; of men whose works have been and still are the guiding lights of theological and philosophical investigation. There are Bridferth, Eadmer, Lanfranc, Anselm, William of Malmesbury, Thomas à Kempis, Bonaventura, and many others, all distinguished for intellect and piety. Some of them, too, were honored by a personal acquaintance with the subjects of their memoirs, as in the case of Bridferth, the contemporary of Dunstan, of Eadmer of Anselm, of Thomas of Celano and St. Francis. Can it be that these scholars, trained to philosophical investigation--these profound thinkers--these holy archbishops and bishops should connive together to delude posterity with a tissue of lies--of wanton lies, which might have been easily contradicted by contemporary writers, many of whom were bitter enemies both of the writers and their religion? Yet we find no such contradiction.

We have plenty of contemporary history handed down tolerably perfect as regards incidents, dates, accurate reports of great councils, descriptions of battles and sieges, lives of statesmen, warriors, and scholars, with views of both sides, debated, refuted, or confirmed. And are we to believe that in this matter of the lives of the saints only have all contemporary writers, friends and foes, scholars, holy men, great benefactors of their age, conspired successfully together to hand down an enormous fabric of falsehood, and at the same time secure the silence of all contemporary history? This is the great difficulty.

A distinguished English writer, the elder D'Israeli, has endeavored to account for these strange tales in the lives of the saints by suggesting they were written as exercises and religious theses, when each student filled up his outline with all the wonders he could invent to invest his subject with greater glory. That is a theory accepted by many who are already prejudiced toward its acceptation; but it is a frivolous theory, to which we object the improbability of these great men, whose names are already mentioned, being set down, some of them in the maturity of their lives, to write religious exercises of that nature. Is it not rather possible that there may be something in all this history which we can neither understand nor explain?

Let us examine for a moment into what we may venture to call the natural history of miracles. We find the Bible itself is an immense repertoire of miracles from Moses down to the apostles, and it contains no distinct announcement of a withdrawal of that power from the church. It was confirmed by Christ, who endowed his apostles with the same power, and who said one or two things in his addresses to them which, we think, will throw some light upon this vexed question.

It is quite certain that there have never been any miracles wrought in the world by any who did not receive the power from God. We are not prepared to estimate what degree of change was produced in the relations between man and God by the fall; we are certain of this, that a gap was placed between the two, so wide that Christ was sent to bridge it over; that an apostasy ensued, and a disunion so complete that his death alone was able to provide the means of reunion and reconciliation. Then it follows that faith was the only possible mode to man of recovery of what was lost by man; faith before the promise and faith after its fulfilment, and in the proportion of the strength of that faith, and the consequent change of life in the heart and nature of him who possessed it, was the reunion with God promised. But how does this bear on miracles? In this way. Turn to the Bible, and it will be seen that of every man who is recorded to have performed miracles, it is also recorded that he had this immovable faith, and that his life was ordered accordingly. {503} Faith, prayer, and fasting have ever been the elements of the life necessary to miracles, and we are not prepared, nor are we able to estimate what would be the result of such a course of severe discipline as some of the saints went through toward a recovery of that lost union with God. It is a singular fact that, in the life of Christ, we find it was only after his fasting and prayer in the wilderness that he began to perform miracles, as though during that severe trial of temptation, fasting, and prayer the perfect union between himself and his Father had been sealed by the final gift of miraculous power. And thus was it that, when in after times his disciples were unable to cast out the devils, and appealed to him for the reason of their inability, he replied, "This sort goeth not out but by fasting and prayer;" and we are told elsewhere that the disciples of Jesus did not fast. So that we find in the Bible there is a close connection between the active development of the spiritual, and the subjugation of the corporeal life, and the working of miracles.

All the prophets led that life, they were given to prayer, fasting, and solitude. It was the peculiar life of Jesus; retired to the mountains, the deserts, and by-places for prayer, and he attributed the miraculous power to the results of this life. [Footnote 152] Is it, then, possible for a man by strong faith, accompanied by fasting and prayer, in these later days to regain that close, mysterious communion with his Maker which should give him a supernatural power? We reply that we have not the means of answering the question, for the simple reason that we never have an opportunity of seeing it tried. Without wishing to insinuate anything invidious, have we any record in ecclesiastical or other history, of bishops, priests, or men of any class during the last 400 years spending whole nights in prayer, or consecutive days in fasting, such as we read, upon indisputable authority, was the practice in the olden times of the prophets, and the later times of men who devoted their lives to the imitation of Christ? [Footnote 153]

[Footnote 152: In the life of St. Francis we are told that "solitaria
loca quaerebat," "una die dum sic sequestratus oraret," "cum die quadam
egressus ad meditandum in agro," "dum per sylvam iter faciens."]

[Footnote 153: Our Protestant fasts are a "lucus a non lucendo,"
consisting of fish of various descriptions, curiously prepared by the
protean art of cookery, with very substantial adjuncts, and accompanied
by good wine. No miracles were ever wrought upon that diet.]

There are plenty of hints scattered throughout the Bible and Testament that there is a mysterious connection yet to be recovered between man and God, if men will only fulfil the required condition, and we repeat that it is not in our power to estimate the results of such a life as we have mentioned--a life of spiritual discipline, of development of the soul, and subjugation of the body--because we have no examples around us; but we ask, if such life were pursued, what is there to prevent our believing that to some extent the words of our Divine Master, who led that life himself, would yet be verified, and "this sort" would still "go out through fasting and prayer"? Nay, further, we may add in illustration that the phenomena which are recorded as attending the careers of such men as Whitefield, Wesley, and Irving have never yet been explained away by any scientific theory or law; so that, in conclusion, as we find in the Bible an emphatic and reiterated record of miraculous power accorded to persons of a certain habit of life and thought, as our Lord, when on earth, attributed that power to the pursuing of that peculiar life--as in every instance where miracles are attributed to men, they are proved to have led such lives--it cannot be thought too much to suggest that, making great deductions and allowances for exaggeration, there may be some basis of truth underlying that fabric of historical and traditional record of the lives of the saints.

Many of those incidents described so mysteriously are capable of explanation. It is often recorded of these men that they saw visions and heard voices. {504} For instance, it is said of St. Francis that, on one occasion, when he was long praying in a solitary place, the Lord appeared to him as if on the cross, and so visible was this [Greek text] to him that ever afterward, when any thought of Christ's sufferings came into his mind, he could not help bursting into tears; also, that one night the Lord appeared to him, and said, "Francisce, quis potest melius facere tibi dominus aut servus?" And again, on another occasion, "Francisce, vade et repara domum meam." Within the range of our own experience, who is there amongst us who has not had similar visions in the slumbers of the night, or heard similar voices in the day? Have we not had sweet converse with dear departed friends, and heard voices that have long been silent? What bereaved mother has not often heard the cry of her lost infant, or solitary widow seen the form of a lost husband in the phantasms of the night? If such things happen to ordinary men, we submit that we are unable to estimate the result of the mode of life and the severity of spiritual training which those men underwent, because it is foreign to our habits, and not within the range of our experience.

We now proceed to give a brief criticism upon the intellect of St. Francis. He has left very little behind him. Only a few sermons, hymns, letters, and sayings, from which we can glean that he must have been an earnest preacher of the true popular type, driving home his truths by familiar illustrations, the type of that peculiar preaching which rendered his order so popular, and paved the way for their marvellous success. We subjoin a few extracts, which illustrate not only his style, but the design of his order. In one of his epistles he says: [Footnote 154]

[Footnote 154: Ep. ii. Ad universes Christi fideles.]

"Let us not be wise and prudent according to the flesh, but simple,
humble, and poor; and let us hold our bodies in contempt, because we are
all miserable and putrid; as the Lord says through the prophet, I am a
worm and not a man. We should never desire to be above others, but
subjected and submissive to every human creature, for the sake of God.
And upon all who do so, and persevere unto the end, the holy spirit will
rest, and make in them his tabernacle and his mansion, and they shall be
sons of the heavenly Father, whose works they do, and shall be the
brides, brothers, and mothers of our Lord Jesus Christ. Brides are we,
since faithful souls are joined to the Holy Spirit; brothers are we of
Jesus Christ, when we do the will of his Father who is in heaven; mothers
are we, when we bear him in our hearts and bodies through love, and bring
him forth by the sacred operation of our example, which ought to shine
before others. Oh! how glorious and great to have a Father in heaven! Oh!
how holy to have a betrothal of the Spirit! Oh! how sacred, how
delightful, well pleasing, peaceful, sweet, loving, desirable above all,
is it to have a brother who has laid down his life for the sheep, and has
prayed his Father for us, saying, 'Father, keep through thine own name
those whom thou hast given me. Father, all those whom thou hast given me
in the world are thine, and thou hast given them to me, and the word
which thou hast given me I have given them, and they have received it,
and know well that I came from thee, and have believed that thou hast
sent me. I pray for them: I sanctify myself, that they may be sanctified
as we are. And I will, O Father! that where I am there they may be also,
and see my glory in my kingdom.'" [Footnote 155]

[Footnote 155: We translate from the Latin of St. Francis, which is
somewhat different from our version.]

A graphic picture of a death-bed scene follows soon after the above beautiful passage in the same epistle.

{505}

"The body droops, death draws near, relatives and friends come, and say,
'Arrange thy house.' And behold, his wife and his sons, his relatives and
friends, pretend to weep; and he, looking up, sees them weeping, and is
moved, and says, my soul and my body, and all my goods, I place in your
hands. Verily, that man is cursed who deposits his soul, his body, and
all his goods in such hands; or, as the Lord says by the prophet, cursed
is that man who places his trust in man. And then they send for the
priest, who says to him, 'Dost thou wish to receive absolution from all
thy sins?' he replies, 'I do.' Wilt thou make restitution from thy
substance for those things which thou hast obtained through fraud and
deception?' He says, 'No.' 'Why not?' asks the priest. 'Because I have
divided all amongst my relations.' And then his speech begins to fail,
and he dies miserably. But let all men know that wherever any man dies in
sin, without making satisfaction, which he can, but will not make, such a
demon seizes his soul, and drags it from the body with such agony that no
one can conceive who has not experienced it. And all his money, power,
and knowledge, which he thought he had, are taken from him; and his
relations and friends, to whom he has given his goods, take them, and
divide them, and then say, Cursed be his soul, who might have given us
more, and did not; who might have hoarded more, and did not. Worms
destroy his body, demons his soul; and thus he loses both soul and body
for the sake of this brief life."

Humility, deep and sincere, was the great characteristic of his life. He was in his own words, "Franciscus parvulus et vester servus in Domino;" "Homo vilis et caducus;" "minus servorum;" "indigna creatura Domini." Being asked, one day, why he wore such scanty clothing in the depth of winter, he replied, "If we are clothed within with the flame of our heavenly country, we shall easily bear this external cold." One of the brethren asked him why he scarcely took anything to sustain nature. "Because," said St. Francis, "it is difficult to satisfy the necessity of the body without indulging the longing of the senses."

On an occasion a brother asked him if he might have a psalter. "When you have got a psalter," replied St. Francis, "then you will want a breviary; and when you have got a breviary, you will sit in your chair as great as a lord, and you will say to your brother, 'Friar, fetch me my breviary.'" There was a competition amongst the brethren as to who should bring in the greatest number of female devotees, when St. Francis checked their ardor by the caustic remark, "I am afraid, my brethren, that when God forbade us wives the devil gave us sisters." Here we must take our farewell of the saint. Willingly would we devote more space to him; but we have much yet to say about his work, especially as it influenced the destinies of our own land. He was a great man, an enthusiast in the highest sense of the word; his character and career remind us forcibly of John the Baptist; his food was locusts and wild honey, his raiment was scanty, he was a voice crying in the wilderness of a wicked world, and his name will last for ever.

But we advance to investigate the doings of the order in England. At the second general chapter held by St. Francis, at Porzioncula, in the year 1219, when the brethren were divided into parties and sent out on their missions, England was one of the first mission stations assigned. France was the first, then came England, chiefly, it is thought, through the influence of an Englishman, one William, who was a follower of St. Francis. The honor of leading this mission was assigned to Brother Angnello [Footnote 156] de Pisa, who was made minister-general of the order in England.

[Footnote 156: _Angnellus_ sic, in Eccleston MSS., and in
Monumenta Franciscana.]

His authority was as follows: "Ego Frater Franciscus de Assisio minister, generalis praecipio tibi Fratri Angnello de Pisa per obedientiam, ut vadas in Angliam et ibi facias officium ministeriatus. Vale. Anno 1219. Franciscus de Assisio." [Footnote 157]

[Footnote 157: Collectanea Anglo-Minoritica, p. 5.]

{506}

They were also fortified with letters recommendatory from Pope Honorius, addressed to all "archbishops, bishops, abbots, priors, and other prelates of the church," enjoining them to receive the bearers as Catholics and true believers, and to "show them favor and courtesy." The actual date of their landing in England is disputed. Eccleston in his MSS., "De Primo Adventu Minorum," gives the year 1224, but the more probable date is 1220, which is given by Wadding, the annalist of the order, and confirmed by Matthew Paris, who under the year 1243 speaks of the Friars Minors, "who began to build their first habitations in England scarcely _twenty-four_ years ago." As they had no money of their own, and lived upon what was given them, they were transported to England from France by the charity of some monks of Fécamp. They were nine in number, four clergymen and five laymen. The former were Angnellus, a native of Pisa, Richard de Ingeworth, Richard of Devonshire, and William Esseby. The laymen were Henry de Cernise, a native of Lombardy, Laurence de Belvaco, William de Florentia, Melioratus, and James Ultramontanus. They landed at Dover and proceeded to Canterbury, where they were hospitably received and staid two days at the Priory of the Holy Trinity. Then four of them set out for London to present the apostolical letters to Henry III., who received them very kindly, which, as they did not want any money, he would be most likely to do.

The other five were housed at Canterbury at the Priests' Hospital, where they remained until a place could be procured for them; such accommodation was found in a small chamber beneath the school-house, where they remained shut up all day, and at evening, when the scholars had gone home, they entered the room, kindled a fire, and sat round it. The four monks who went to London were kindly received by the Dominicans, with whom they staid a fortnight, until one John Travers hired a house for them in Cornhill, which they divided into cells by stuffing the interstices with straw.

The citizens, at the instigation of one Irwin, who afterward became a lay brother, removed them to the butchery or shambles of St. Nicholas, in the Ward of Farringdon-within, close to a place called Stinking-lane, where they built a convent for them. The foundations were laid at Christmas, 1220, and it was five years in course of building. The different portions were built by different citizens. William Joyner built the choir, William Walleys the nave, Alderman Porter the chapter-house, Bartholomew de Castello the refectory, Peter de Haliland the infirmary, and Roger Bond the library; even in those days the citizens, when they did anything in the way of charity, did it royally. Two brethren, however, were sent on to Oxford, where they were also kindly received by Dominican friars, according to Eccleston; but a story is told in the annals of the order of the two brethren who were making their way toward Oxford, when they came to a sort of manor-house, about six miles from Oxford, which was a cell of Benedictine monks, belonging to the abbey of Abingdon.

Being very hungry and tired, they knocked at the gate; and the monks, from their strange dress and extraordinary appearance, taking them for masqueraders, admitted them, hoping for some diversion. But, when they found they were a new order of friars, they turned them out of doors; but one, more gentle than the rest, went after them, brought them back, and persuaded the porter to let them sleep in the hay-loft. Both versions may be right, as the circumstance occurred outside Oxford; and Eccleston's account commences with their advent in that city when they were received by the Dominicans, with whom they remained for about eight days, until a rich citizen, Richard Mercer, let them a house in the parish of St. Ebbs. Then the two brethren go on to Northampton, where they were received into an hospital. They procured a house in the parish of St. Giles, over which they appointed one Peter Hispanus as guardian.

{507}

Then they went to Cambridge, where the townspeople gave them an old synagogue, adjoining the common prison; but afterward, ten marks being given them from the king's exchequer, they built a rough sort of oratory on a plot of ground in the city. After that another settlement was made in Lincoln, and gradually in many other cities; so that in thirty-two years from their arrival they numbered 1242 brethren in forty-nine different settlements. Their first convert was one Solomon, of good birth and connections.