Chapter XXI: The World of Salimbene

At the close of this long survey of the saintly ideals and actualities of the Middle Ages, it will be illuminating to look abroad over mediaeval life through the half mystic but most observant eyes of a certain Italian Franciscan. The Middle Ages were not characterized by the open eye. Mediaeval Chronicles and _Vitae_ rarely afford a broad and variegated picture of the world. As they were so largely the work of monks, obviously they would set forth only what would strike the monastic eye, an eye often intense with its inner vision, but not wide open to the occurrences of life. The monk was not a good observer, commonly from lack of sympathy and understanding. Of course there were exceptions; one of them was the Franciscan Salimbene, an undeniable if not too loving son of an alert north Italian city, Parma.

Humanism springs from cities; and it began in Italy long before Petrarch. North of the Alps there was nothing like the city life of Italy, so quick and voluble, so unreticent and unrestrained, open and neighbourly--neighbours hate as well as love! From Cicero’s time, from Numa’s if one will, Italian life was what it never ceased to be, urban. The city was the centre and the bound of human intercourse, almost of human sympathy. This was always true; as true in those devastated seventh, eighth, and ninth centuries as before or after; certainly true of the tenth and eleventh centuries when the Lombards and other Teuton children of the waste and forest had become good urban Italians. It was still more abundantly true of the following centuries when life was burgeoning with power. Whatever other cause or source of parentage it had, humanism was a city child. And as city life never ceased in Italy, that land had no unhumanistic period. There humanism always existed, whether we take it in the narrower sense of love of humanistic, that is, antique literature, or take it broadly as in the words of old Menander-Terence: “homo sum, humani nil a me alienum.”

Now turn to the close of the twelfth century, and look at Francis of Assisi. It is his humanism and his naturalism, his interest in men and women, and in bird and beast as well, that fills this sweet lover of Christ with tender sympathy for them all. Through him human interest and love of man drew monasticism from its cloister, and sent it forth upon an unhampered ministry of love. Francis (God bless him!) had not been Francis, had he not been Francis _of Assisi_.

A certain gifted well-born city child was five years old when Francis died. It was to be his lot to paint for posterity a picture of his world such as no man had painted before; and in all his work no line suggests so many reasons for the differences between Italy and the lands north of the Alps, and also so many why Salimbene happened to be what he was, as this remark, relating to his French tour: “In France _only the townspeople_ dwell in the towns; the knights and noble ladies stay in their villas and on their own domains.”

Only the townspeople live in the towns, merchants, craftsmen, artisans--the unleavened bourgeoisie! In Lombardy how different! There knights and nobles, and their lovely ladies, have their strong dwellings in the towns; jostle with the townspeople, converse with them, intermarry sometimes, lord it over them when they can, hate them, murder them. But there they are, and what variety and colour and picturesqueness and illumination do they not add to city life? If a Lombardy town thronged with merchants and craftsmen, it was also gay and voluptuous with knights and ladies. How rich and fascinating its life compared with the grey towns beyond the Alps. In France the townspeople made an audience for the Fabliaux! The Italian town had also its courtly audience of knight and dame for the love lyrics of the troubadour, and for the romances of chivalry. In fact, the whole world was there, and not just workaday, sorry, parts of it.

Had it not been for the full and varied city life in which he was born and bred, the quick-eyed youth would not have had that fund of human interest and intuition which makes him so pleasant and so different from any one north of the Alps in the thirteenth century. A city boy indeed, and what a full personality! He was to be a man of human curiosity, a tireless sight-seer. His interest is universal; his human love quick enough--for those he loved; for he was no saint, although a Minorite. His detestation is vivid, illuminating; it brings the hated man before us. And Salimbene’s wide-open eyes are his own. He sees with a fresh vision; he is himself; a man of temperament, which lends its colours to the panorama. His own interest or curiosity is paramount with him; so his narrative will naïvely follow his sweet will and whim, and pass from topic to topic in chase of the suggestions of his thoughts.

The result is for us a unique treasure-trove. The story presents the world and something more; two worlds, if you will, very co-related: _macrocosmos_ and _microcosmos_, the world without and the very eager ego, Salimbene. There he is unfailingly, the writer in his world. Scarcely another mediaeval penman so naïvely shows the world he moves about in and himself. Let us follow, for a little, his autobiographic chronicle, taking the liberty which he always took, of selecting as we choose.[632]

In the year 1221 Salimbene was born at Parma, into the very centre of the world of strife between popes and emperors--a world wherein also the renewed Gospel was being preached by Francis of Assisi, who did not die till five years later. But St. Dominic died the year of Salimbene’s birth. Innocent III., most powerful of popes, had breathed his last five years before, leaving surviving him that viper-nursling of the papacy, Frederick II., an able, much-experienced youth of twenty-two. Frederick was afterwards crowned emperor by Honorius III., and soon showed himself the most resourceful of his Hohenstaufen line of arch-enemies to the papacy. This Emperor Frederick, whom Innocent III., says Salimbene, had exalted and named “Son of the Church” ... “was a man pestiferous and accursed, a schismatic, heretic, and epicurean, who corrupted the whole earth.”[633]

Salimbene’s family was in high regard at Parma, and the boy naturally saw and perhaps met the interesting strangers coming to the town. He tells us that when he was baptized the lord Balianus of Sydon, a great baron of France, a retainer of the Emperor Frederick’s, “lifted me from the sacred font.” The mother was a pious dame, whom Salimbene loved none too well, because once she snatched up his infant sisters to flee from the danger of the Baptistery toppling over upon their house during an earthquake, and left Salimbene himself lying in his cradle! The father had been a crusader, and was a man of wealth and influence.

So the youth was born into a stirring swirl of life. These vigorous northern Italian cities hated each other shrewdly in the thirteenth century. When the boy was eight years old a great fight took place between the folk of Parma, Modena, and Cremona on the one side, and that big blustering Bologna. Hot was the battle. On the _Carrocio_ of Parma only one man remained; for it was stripped of its defenders by the stones from those novel war-engines of the Bolognese, called _manganellae_. Nevertheless the three towns won the battle, and the Bolognese turned their backs and abandoned their own _Carrocio_. The Cremona people wanted to drag it within their walls; but the prudent Parma leaders prevented it, because such action would have been an insult forever, and a lasting cause of war with a strong enemy. But Salimbene saw the captured _manganellae_ brought as trophies into his city.

Other scenes of more peaceful rejoicing came before his eyes; as in the year 1233, he being twelve years old. That was a year of alleluia, as it was afterwards called,

“to wit a time of peace and quiet, of joy, jollity and merry-making,
of praise and jubilee; because wars were over. Horse and foot,
townsfolk and rustics, youths and virgins, old and young, sang songs
and hymns. There was such devotion in all the cities of Italy. And I
saw that each quarter of the city would have its banner in the
procession, a banner on which was painted the figure of its
martyr-saint. And men and women, boys and girls, thronged from the
villages to the city with their flags, to hear the preaching, and
praise God. They had branches of trees and lighted candles. There was
preaching morning, noon, and evening, and _stationes_ arranged in
churches and squares; and they lifted their hands to God to praise and
bless Him forever. Nor could they cease, so drunk were they with love
divine. There was no wrath among them, or disquiet or rancour.
Everything was peaceful and benign; I saw it with my eyes.”[634]

And then Salimbene tells of all the famous preachers, and the lovely hymns, and Ave Marias; Frater So-and-so, from Bologna; Frater So-and-so from somewhere else; Minorite and Preaching friar.

One might almost fancy himself in the Florence of Savonarola. Like enough this season of soul outpour and tears and songs of joy first stirred the religious temper of this quickly moved youth. These were also the great days of dawning for the Friars. Dominic was not yet sainted; yet his Order of the Preaching Friars was growing. The blessed Francis had been canonized;--sainted had he been indeed before his death! And the world was turning to these novel, open, sympathetic brethren who were pouring themselves through Europe. Love’s mendicancy, envied but not yet discredited, was before men’s eyes and in men’s thoughts; and what opportunity it offered of helping people, of saving one’s own soul, and of seeing the world! We can guess how Salimbene’s temper was drawn by it. We know at least that one of these friars, Brother Girard of Modena, who preached at this jubilee in Parma, was the man who made petition five years later for Salimbene, so that the Minister-General of the Minorites, Brother Elias, being then at Parma, received the seventeen-year-old boy into the Order, in the year 1238.

Salimbene’s father was frantic at the loss of his heir. Never while he lived did he cease to lament it. He at once began strenuous appeals to have his son returned to him. Salimbene’s account of this, exhibits himself, his father, and the situation.

“He complained to the emperor (Frederick II.), who had come to Parma,
that the brothers Minorites had taken his son from him. The emperor
wrote to Brother Elias that if he held his favour dear, he should
listen to him and return me to my father. Then my father went to
Assisi, where Brother Elias was, and placed in his hands the emperor’s
letter, which began: ‘In order to mitigate the sighs of our faithful
Guido de Adam,’ and so forth. Brother Illuminatus, Brother Elias’s
scribe, showed me this letter long afterwards, when I was with him in
the convent at Siena.

“When the imperial letter had been read, Brother Elias wrote at once
to the brethren of the convent at Fano, where I dwelt, that if I
wished it, they should return me to my father without delay; but that
if I did not wish to go with my father, they should guard and keep me
as the pupil of his eye.

“A number of knights came with my father to Fano, to see the end of my
affair. There was I and my salvation made the centre of the spectacle.
The brethren were assembled, with them of the world; and there was
much talk. My father produced the letter of the minister-general, and
showed it to the brothers. When it was read, Brother Jeremiah, who was
in charge of me, answered my father in the hearing of all: ‘Lord
Guido, we sympathize with your distress, and are prepared to obey the
letter of our father. Behold, here is your son; he is old enough; let
him speak for himself. Ask him; if he wishes to go with you, let him
in God’s name; if not, we cannot force him.’

“My father asked me whether I wished to go with him or not. I replied,
No; because the Lord says, ‘No one putting his hand to the plow and
looking back is fit for the kingdom of God.’

“And father said to me: ‘Thou carest not for thy father and mother,
who are afflicted with many griefs for thee.’

“I replied: ‘Truly I do not care, because the Lord says, Who loveth
father or mother more than me is not worthy of me. But of thee He also
says: Who loveth son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.
Thou oughtest to care, father, for Him who hung on the cross for us,
that He might give us eternal life. For it is himself who says: I am
come to set a man against his father, and the daughter against her
mother, and the daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law. And a man’s
foes are they of his household.’

“The brethren wondered and rejoiced that I said such things to my
father. And then my father said: ‘You have bewitched and deceived my
son, so that he will not mind me. I will complain again of you to the
emperor and to the minister-general. Now let me speak with my son
apart from you; and you will see him follow me without delay.’

“So the brothers allowed me to talk with him alone; for they began to
have a little confidence in me, because of my words. Yet they listened
behind the wall to what we should say. For they trembled as a reed in
water, lest my father should alter my mind with his blandishments. And
not for me alone they feared, but lest my return should hinder others
from entering the Order.

“Then my father said to me: ‘Dear son, don’t believe those nasty
tunics[635] who have deceived you; but come with me, and I will give
you all I have.’

“And I replied: ‘Go away, father. As the Wise Man says in Proverbs,
Thou shall not hinder him to do right, who is able.’

“And my father answered with tears, and said to me: ‘What then, son,
shall I say to thy mother, who is afflicted because of thee?’

“And I say to him: ‘Thou shalt tell her from me; thus says thy son: My
father and mother have forsaken me, and the Lord hath taken me up;
also (Jer. iii.): Thou shalt call me Father, and walk after me in my
steps.... It is good for a man when he has borne the yoke from his
youth.’

“Hearing all these things my father, despairing of my coming out,
threw himself down in the presence of the brethren and the secular
folk who had come with him, and said: ‘I give thee to a thousand
devils, cursed son, thee and thy brother here who has deceived thee.
My curse be on you forever, and may it commend you to the spirits of
hell.’ And he went away excited beyond measure; while we remained
greatly comforted and giving thanks to our God, and saying to each
other, ‘They shall curse, and thou shalt bless.’ Likewise the seculars
retired edified at my constancy. The brethren also rejoiced seeing
what the Lord had wrought through me, His little boy.”

This whole scene presents such a conflict as the thirteenth century witnessed daily, and the twelfth, and other mediaeval centuries as well. The letters of St. Bernard set forth situations quite as extreme or outrageous, from modern points of view. And Bernard can apply (or shall we say, distort?) Scripture in the same drastic fashion. But these monks meant it deeply; and from their standpoint they were in the right with their quotations. The attitude goes back to Jerome; that a man’s father and mother, and they of his own household, may be his worst enemies, if they seek to hinder his feet set toward God. Of course we can see the sensible, worldly, martial father of the youth leap in the air and roll on the ground in rage; flesh and blood could not stand such turn of Scripture: Tell my weeping mother (who so longs for me) that I say my father and mother have forsaken me, and the Lord hath taken me up! This came to the Lord Guido as a maddening gibe; but Salimbene meant simply that his parents did not care for his highest welfare, and the Lord had received him into the path of salvation. It is all a scene, which should evoke our serious reflections--after which it may be permitted us to enjoy it as we will.

In his conscience Salimbene felt justified; for a dream set the seal of divine approval on his conduct.

“The Blessed Virgin rewarded me that very night. For it seemed to me
that I was lying prostrate in prayer before her altar, as the brothers
are wont when they rise for matins. And I heard the voice of the
Blessed Virgin calling me. Lifting my face, I saw her sitting above
the altar in that place where is set the host and the calix. She had
her little boy in her lap, and she held him out to me, saying:
‘Approach without fear and kiss my son, whom yesterday thou didst
confess before men.’ And when I was afraid, I saw that the little boy
gladly stretched out his arms. Trusting his innocence and the
graciousness of his mother, I drew near, embraced and kissed him; and
the benign mother gave him to me for a long while. And when I could
not have enough of it, the Blessed Virgin blessed me and said: ‘Go,
beloved son, and lie down, lest the brothers rising from matins find
thee here with us.’ I obeyed, and the vision disappeared; but
unspeakable sweetness remained in my heart. Never in the world have I
had such bliss.”

From this we see that Salimbene had sufficient mystic ardour to keep him a happy Franciscan. It made the otherworldly part of one who also was a merry gossip among his fellows. An inner power of spiritual enthusiasm and fantasy accompanied him through his life, giving him a double point of view: he looks at things as they are, with curiosity and interest, and ever and anon loses himself in transcendental dreams of Paradise and all at last made perfect.[636]

Although the father had devoted his son to a thousand devils, he did not cease from attempts, by persuasion and even violence, to draw him back into his own civic and martial world. So the young man got permission from the minister-general to go and live in Tuscany, where he might be beyond the reach of parental activities. “Thereupon I went and lived in Tuscany for eight years, two of them at Lucca, two at Siena, and four at Pisa.” He gained great comfort from converse and gossip of an edifying kind, as he fell in with those loving enthusiasts who had received their cloaks from the hand of the blessed Francis himself. At Siena he saw much of Brother Bernard of Quintavalle who had been the very first to receive the dress of the Order from the hand of its founder. Salimbene gladly listened to his recollections of Francis, who in this venerable disciple’s words might seem once more to walk the earth.

Yet Salimbene, still young in heart and years, could readily take up with the companionship of the ne’er-do-well vagabonds who frequently attached themselves, as lay brothers, to the Franciscan Order. He tells of a day’s outing with one of whose character he is outspoken but without personal repugnance:

“I was a young man when I dwelt at Pisa. One day I went out begging
with a certain lay brother, a good-for-nothing. He was a Pisan, and
the same who afterwards went and lived with the brothers at Fixulus,
where they had to drag him out of a well which he had jumped into from
some foolishness or desperation. Then he disappeared, and could not be
found. The brothers thought the devil had carried him off. However
that may have been, this day at Pisa he and I went with our baskets to
beg bread, and chanced to enter a courtyard. Above, all about, hung a
thick, leafy vine, its freshness lovely to see and its shade sweet for
resting in. There were leopards there and other beasts from over the
sea, at which we gazed long, transfixed with delight, as one will at
the sight of the novel and beautiful. Girls were there also and boys
at their sweetest age, handsome and lovely, and ten times as alluring
for their beautiful clothes. The boys and girls held violas and
cytharas and other musical instruments in their hands, on which they
made sweet melodies, accompanied with gestures. There was no hub-bub,
nor did any one talk; but all listened in silence. And the song which
they chanted was so new and lovely in words and melody as to gladden
the heart exceedingly. None spoke to us, nor did we say a word to any
one. They did not stop singing and playing so long as we were
there--and long indeed we lingered and could scarcely take ourselves
away. God knows, I do not, who set this joyful entertainment; for we
had never seen anything like it before nor could we ever find its like
again.”

From the witchery of this cloud-dropped entertainment Salimbene was rudely roused as he went out upon the public way.

“A man met me, whom I did not know, and said he was from Parma. He
seized upon me, and began to chide and revile: ‘Away scamp, away,’ he
cried. ‘A crowd of servants in your father’s house have bread enough
and meat; and you go from door to door begging bread from those
without it, when you have enough to give to any number of beggars! You
ought to be riding on a war-horse through Parma, and delighting people
with your skill with the lance, so that there might be a sight for the
ladies, and comfort for the players. Now your father is worn with
grief and your mother from love of you, so she despairs of God.’”

Salimbene fended off this attack of carnal wisdom with many texts of Scripture. Yet the other’s words set him to thinking that perhaps it would be hard to lead a beggar’s life year after year until old age. And he lay awake that night, until God comforted him as before with a reassuring dream.

Pretty dreamer as he was, Salimbene can often tell a ribald tale. There was rivalry, as may be imagined, between the Dominicans (_solemnes praedicatores_) and the Minorites. The former seem occasionally to have concerted together so as to have knowledge of what their friends in other places were about. Then, when preaching, they would exhibit marvels of second sight, which on investigation proved true! A certain Brother John of Vicenza was a Dominican famed for preaching and miracles perhaps, and with such overtopping sense of himself that he went at least a little mad. Bologna was his tarrying-place. There a certain Florentine grammarian, Boncompagnus, tired of the foolery, made gibing rhymes about him and his admirers, and said he would do a miracle himself, and at a certain hour would fly with wings from the pinnacle of Sta. Maria in Monte. All came together at that hour to see. There he stood aloft, with his wings, ready, and the folk expectant, for a long time--and then he bade them disperse with God’s blessing, for it was enough for them to have seen him. They then knew that they had been fooled!

None the less the _dementia_ of Brother John increased, so that one day at the Dominican convent in Bologna he fell in a rage because when his beard was cut the brothers did not preserve the hairs as relics. There came along a Minorite, Brother God-save-you, a Florentine like Boncompagnus, and like him a great buffoon and joker. To this convent he came, but refused all invitation to stay and eat unless a piece of the cloak of Brother John were given him, which was kept to hold relics. So they gave him a piece of the cloak, and after dinner he went off and befouled it, folded it up, and called for all to come and see the precious relics of the sainted John, which he had lost in the latrina. So they flocked to see, and were somewhat more than satisfied.[637]

No need to say that this Salimbene had a quick eye for beauty in both men and women; he is always speaking of so-and-so as a handsome man, and such and such a lady as “pulcherrima domina,” of pleasing ways and moderate stature, neither too tall nor too short. But one may win a more amusing side-light on the “eternal womanly” in his Chronicle, from the following: “Like other popes, Nicholas III. made cardinals of many of his relatives. He made a cardinal of one, Lord Latinus, of the Order of Preachers (which we note with a smile, and expect something funny). He appointed him legate to Lombardy and Tuscany and Romagnola.” Note the enactments of this cardinal-legate:

“He disturbed all the women with a ‘Constitution’ which he
promulgated, to wit, that the women should wear short dresses
reaching to the ground, and only so much more as a palm’s breadth.
Formerly they wore trains, sweeping the earth for several feet (_per
brachium et dimidium_). A rhymer dubs them:

‘Et drappi longhi, ke la polver menna.’

(‘The long cloaks that gather up the dust.’)

“And he had this to be proclaimed in the churches, and imposed it on
the women by command; and ordered that no priest should absolve them
unless they complied. The which was bitterer to the women than any
kind of death! For as a woman said to me familiarly, that train was
dearer to her than all the other clothes she wore. And further,
Cardinal Latinus decreed that all women, girls and young ladies,
matrons and widows, should wear veils. Which was again a horror for
them. But they found a remedy for that tribulation, as they could not
for their trains. For they made veils of linen and silk inwoven with
gold, with which they looked ten times as well, and drew the eyes of
men to lust all the more.”

Thus did the cardinal-legate, the Pope’s relative. And plenty of gossip has Salimbene to tell of such creatures of nepotism. “Flesh and blood _had_ revealed” to the Pope that he should make cardinals of them; says he with a sort of giant sneer; “for he built up Zion _in sanguinibus_,” that is, through his blood-relatives! “There are a thousand brothers Minorites, more fit, on the score of knowledge and holiness, to be cardinals than they.” Had not another pope, Urban IV., made chief among the cardinals a relation whose only use as a student had been to fetch the other students’ meat from market?

It was a few years after this that Salimbene returned to his native town of Parma, near the time when that city passed from the side of the Emperor to that of the Pope. This was a fatal defection for Frederick, which he set about to repair, by laying siege to the turn-coat city. And the war went on with great devastation, and the wolves and other wild beasts increased and grew bold. Salimbene throws Eccelino da Romano on the scene, that regent of the emperor, and monster of cruelty, “who was feared more than the devil,” and had once burned to death “eleven thousand Paduans in Verona. The building holding them was set on fire; and while they burned, Eccelino and his knights held a tournament about them (_circa eos_).... I verily believe that as the Son of God desired to have one special friend, whom He made like to himself, to wit the blessed Francis, so the devil fashioned Eccelino in his likeness.”[638]

Salimbene tells of the siege of Parma at much length, and of the final defeat of the emperor, with the destruction of the stronghold which he had built to menace the city, and of all his curious treasures, with the imperial crown itself taken by the men of Parma and their allies. But before this, while the turmoil of the siege was at its height, in 1247, he received orders to leave Parma and set out for Lyons, where Innocent IV. at that time held his papal court, having fled from Italy, from the emperor, three years before. Setting out, he reached Lyons on All Saints Day.

“At once the Pope sent for me, and talked with me familiarly in his
chamber. For since my leaving Parma he had received neither messenger
nor letters. And he thanked me warmly and listened to my prayers, for
he was a courtly and liberal man; ... and he absolved me from my sins
and appointed me preacher!”

Our autobiographic chronicler was at this time twenty-six years old; his personality bespoke a kind reception everywhere. He soon left Lyons, and went on through the towns of Champagne to Troyes, where he found plenty of merchants from Lombardy and Tuscany, for there were markets there, lasting two months. So was it also in Provins, the next halting-place; from which Salimbene went on to Paris. There he stayed eight days and saw much which pleased him; and then, going back upon his tracks, he took up his journey to Sens, where he dwelt in the Franciscan convent, “and the French brethren entertained me gladly, because I was a friendly, cheerful youth, and spoke them fair.” From Sens he went south to Auxerre, the place which had been named as his destination when he left Parma. It was in the year 1248, and as he writes (how many years after?) there comes back to him the memory of the grand wines of Auxerre:

“I remember when at Cremona (in 1245) Brother Gabriel of that place, a
Minorite, a great teacher and a man of holy life, told me that Auxerre
had more vines and wine than Cremona and Parma and Reggio and Modena
together. I wouldn’t believe him. But when I came to live at Auxerre,
I saw that he spoke the truth. It is a large district, or bishopric,
and the mountains, hills, and plains are covered with vines. There
they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; but they send their
wine by river to Paris, where they sell it nobly; and live and clothe
themselves from the proceeds. Three times I went all about the
district with one or another of the brothers: once with one who was
preaching and affixing crosses for the Crusade of the French king (St.
Louis); then with another who preached to the Cistercians in a most
beautiful monastery; and the third time we spent Easter with a
countess, who set before the whole company twelve courses of food, all
different. And had the count been at home, there would have been a
still greater abundance and variety. Now in four parts of France they
drink beer, and in four, wine. And the three lands where the wine is
most abundant are La Rochelle, Beaune, and Auxerre. In Auxerre the red
wine is least regarded and is not as good as the Italian. But Auxerre
has its white or golden wines, which are fragrant and comforting and
good, and make every one drinking them feel happy. Some of the Auxerre
wine is so strong that when put in a jug, drops appear on the outside
(_lacrymantur exterius_). The French laugh and say that three b’s and
seven f’s go with the best wine:

‘Le vin bon et bel et blanc,
Fort et fer et fin et franc,
Freit et fres et fourmijant.’

“The French delight in good wine--no wonder! since it ‘gladdens God
and men.’ Both French and English are very diligent with their
drinking-cups. Indeed the French have blear eyes from drinking
overmuch; and in the morning after a bout, they go to the priest who
has celebrated mass and ask him to drop a little of the water in which
he has washed his hands into their eyes. But Brother Bartholomew at
Provins has a way of saying it would be better for them if they would
put their water in their wine instead of in their eyes. As for the
English, they take a measure of wine, drink it out, and say: ‘I have
drunk; now you’--meaning that you should drink as much. And this is
their idea of politeness; and any one will take it very ill if the
other does not follow his precept and example.”[639]

While Salimbene was living at Auxerre, in the year 1248, a provincial Chapter of the Franciscan Order was held at Sens, with the Minister-General, John of Parma, presiding. Thither went Salimbene.

“The King of France, St. Louis, was expected. And the brothers all
went out from the house to receive him. And Brother Rigaud,[640] of
the Order, Archbishop of Rouen, having put on his pontifical
trappings, left the house and hurried toward the king, asking all the
time, ‘Where is the king? where is the king?’ And I followed him; for
he went alone and frantically, his mitre on his head and pastoral
staff in hand. He had been tardy in dressing himself, so that the
other brothers had gone ahead, and now lined the street, with faces
turned from the town, straining to see the king coming. And I
wondered, saying to myself, that I had read that these Senonian Gauls
once, under Brennus, captured Rome; now their women seemed a lot of
servant girls. If the King of France had made a progress through Pisa
or Bologna, the whole _élite_ of the ladies of the city would have met
him. Then I remembered the Gallic way, for the mere townsfolk to dwell
in the towns, while the knights and noble ladies live in their castles
and possessions.

“The king was slender and graceful, rather lean, of fair height, with
an angelic look and gracious face. And he came to the church of the
brothers Minorites not in regal pomp, but on foot in the habit of a
pilgrim, with wallet and staff, which well adorned his royal shoulder.
His own brothers, who were counts, followed in like humility and garb.
Nor did the king care as much for the society of nobles as for the
prayers and suffrages of the poor. Indeed he was one to be held a
monarch, both on the score of devotion and for his knightly deeds of
arms.

“Thus he entered the church of the brethren, with most devout
genuflections, and prayed before the altar. And when he left the
church and paused at the threshold, I was next to him. And there, on
behalf of the church at Sens, the warden presented him with a huge
live pike swimming in water in a tub made of firwood, such as they
bathe babies in. The pike is dear and highly prized in France. The
king returned thanks to the sender as well as to the presenter of the
gift. Then he requested audibly that no one, unless he were a knight,
should enter the Chapter House, except the brethren, with whom he
wished to speak. When we were met in Chapter, the king began to speak
of his actions and, devoutly kneeling, begged the prayers and
suffrages of the brethren for himself, his brothers, his lady mother
the queen, and all his companions. And certain French brothers, next
to me, from devotion and piety wept as if unconsolable. After the
king, Lord Oddo, a Roman cardinal, who once was chancellor at Paris,
and now was to cross the sea with the king, arose and said a few
words. Then on behalf of the Order, John of Parma, the
Minister-General, spoke fittingly, promising the prayers of the
brethren, and ordaining masses for the king; which, thereupon, at the
king’s request he confirmed by a letter under his seal.

“Afterwards, on that day, the king distributed alms and dined with the
brethren in the refectory. There were at table his three brothers, a
cardinal of the Roman curia, the minister-general, and Brother Rigaud,
Archbishop of Rouen, and many brethren. The minister-general, knowing
what a noble company was with the king, had no mind to thrust himself
forward, although he was asked to sit next the king. So to set an
example of courtliness and humility, he sat among the lowest. On that
day first we had cherries and then the very whitest bread; there was
wine in abundance and of the best, as befitted the regal magnificence.
And after the Gallic custom many reluctant ones were invited and
forced to drink. After that we had fresh beans cooked in milk, fish
and crabs, eel-pies, rice with milk of almonds and powdered cinnamon,
broiled eels with excellent sauce; and plenty of cakes and herbs, and
fruit. Everything was well served, and the service at table excellent.

“The following day the king resumed his journey, and I followed him,
as the Chapter was over; for I had permission to go and stay in
Provincia. It was easy for me to find him, as he frequently turned
aside to go to the hermitages of the brothers Minorites or some other
religious Order, to gain their prayers. And he kept this up
continually until he reached the sea and took ship for the Holy Land.

“I remember that one day I went to a noble castle in Burgundy, where
the body of the Magdalene was then believed to be. The next day was
Sunday; and early in the morning came the king to ask the suffrages of
the brethren. He dismissed his retinue in the castle, from which the
house of the brothers was but a little way. The king took his own
three brothers, as was his wont, and some servants to take care of the
horses. And when genuflections and reverences were duly made, the
brothers sought benches to sit on. But the king sat on the earth in
the dust, as I saw with my eyes. For that church had no pavement. And
he called us, saying: ‘Come to me, my sweetest brothers, and hear my
words.’ And we made a circle about him, sitting with him on the earth;
and his own brothers likewise. And he asked our prayers, as I have
been saying. And when promise had been given him, he rose and went his
way.”[641]

Is not this a picture of St. Louis, pilgrimaging from convent to convent, to make sure of the divine aid, and trusting, so far as concerned the business of the Holy Land, quite as much in the prayers of monks as in the deeds of knights? We have hardly such a vivid sight of him in Joinville or Geoffrey of Beaulieu.[642]

After this scene, the king proceeded on his way, to make ready for his voyage, and Salimbene went to Lyons, then down the Rhone to Arles, then around by sea to Marseilles, and thence to Areae, the present Hyères, which lies near the coast. Here to his joy he met with Brother Hugo of Montpellier whom he was seeking, the great “Joachite,” the great clerk, the mighty preacher and resistless disputer, whom he had not forgotten since the days, long before, when he had been in Hugo’s company and listened to his preaching at Siena. Even then, Minorites, Dominicans, and all men, had flocked to hear this small dark man, who seemed another Paul, as he descanted on the marvels of Paradise and the contempt one should feel for this world; but especially those Franciscans delighted in his preaching who were of the “spiritual” party, which sought to follow strictly the injunctions of the blessed Francis, and also cherished the prophesies of the enigmatical Joachim of Flora. To this Joachim was ascribed that long since vanished but much-bespoken _Evangelium eternum_, which appears to have been written years after his death under the auspices of John of Parma, Minister-General of the Franciscan Order.[643]

There was heresy in this book, with its doctrine of a still unrevealed, but everlasting Gospel of the Holy Ghost. Until its appearance the genuine utterances of Joachim were not prescribed, consisting as they did of prophecies, for example, as to the life of that monster Frederick II., and of denunciations of the pride and worldliness of ecclesiastics. Thus they fell in with the enthusiasms of the “spiritual” Franciscans, who still lived in an ecstasy of love and anticipation;--in the coming time some of them were to be dubbed Fratricelli, and under that name be held as heretics.

John of Parma was, of course, a “Joachite”; and “I was intimate with him,” says Salimbene, “from love and because I seemed to believe the writings of Abbot Joachim of the Order of the Flower.” John was likewise a friend (so strong a bond was the belief in the holy but over-prophetic Joachim) of Hugo of Montpellier, of whose manner and arguments we shall now let Salimbene speak.

“Once Hugo came from Pisa to Lucca, where the brothers had invited him
to come and preach. He arrived at the hour for setting out for the
cathedral service. And there the whole convent was assembled to
accompany him and do him honour, and from desire to hear him too. And
he wondered, seeing the brothers assembled outside of the convent
door, and said: ‘Ah God! what are they going to do?’ The reply was,
that they were there to do him honour, and to hear him. But he said:
‘I do not need such honour, for I am not pope. If they wish to hear,
let them come after we have got there. I will go ahead with one
companion, and I will not go with that band.’”

Hugo was worshipped by his admirers, and hated by those whom he disagreed with or denounced. Aside from his disputations in defence of Joachim, a sample of which will be given shortly, one can see what hate must have sprung from such invective as Salimbene reports him once to have addressed to a consistory of cardinals at Lyons, where the Pope then held court. Here is the story, quite too harsh for the respectable editors of the Parma edition of the _Chronaca_:

“The cardinals inquired of Brother Hugo for news (_rumores_). So he
reviled them, as asses, saying: ‘I have no news, but a plenitude of
peace in my conscience and before my God, who surpasses sense and
keeps my heart and mind in Christ Jesus my Lord. I know that ye seek
after news, and wait idle the live-long day. For ye are Athenians and
not disciples of Christ. Of whom Luke says in the Acts: For all the
Athenians and the strangers which were there had time for nothing else
but to tell or hear some new thing. The disciples of Christ were
fishers and weak men according to the world, but they converted the
whole earth because the hand of the Lord was with them. They set forth
and preached everywhere, the Lord working with them. But ye are those
who build up Zion in blood (_i.e._ consanguinity) and Jerusalem in
iniquity. For you choose your little nephews and relations for the
benefices and dignities of the Church, and you exalt and make rich
your clan, and shut out men good and fit who would be useful to the
Church, and you prebendate children in their cradles. As a certain
mountebank well has said: If with an accusative you would go to the
Curia, you’ll take nothing if you don’t start with the dative! And
another says, the Roman Curia cares not for a sheep without wool.’”

And with such like, Hugo continues a considerable space.

“Hearing these things the cardinals were cut to the heart and gnashed
their teeth at him. But they had not the hardihood to reply; for the
fear of the Lord came over them and the hand of the Lord was with him.
Yet they wondered that he spoke to them so boldly; and finally it
seemed best to them to slip out and leave him, nor did they question
him, saying, as the Athenians to Paul: ‘We will hear thee again of
this matter.’”[644]

Hugo’s invective is outdone by Salimbene’s closing scorn.

And now (to return to Salimbene’s journey) here at Hyères in the year 1248 many notaries and judges, and physicians and other men of learning, were assembled to hear Brother Hugo speak of the Abbot Joachim’s doctrines, and expound Holy Scripture, and predict the future. “And I was there to hear him; for long before I had been instructed in these teachings.” But there came two Preaching friars, and abode at the Franciscan house, since the Dominicans had no convent at Hyères. One was Brother Peter of Apulia, a learned man and a great speaker. After dinner a brother asked him what he thought of Abbot Joachim. He answered: “I care as much for Joachim as for the fifth wheel of a coach.”

Thereupon this brother hurried to Hugo’s chamber, and exclaimed in the presence of all the notables there: “Here is a brother Preacher who does not believe that doctrine at all.”

To whom Brother Hugo: “And what is it to me if he does not believe? Be it laid at his door; he will see it when trouble shall enlighten him. Yet call him to debate; let us hear of what he doubts.”

So, called, he came, very unwillingly, because he held Joachim so cheaply, and besides thought there was no one in that house fit to dispute with him. When Brother Hugo saw him he said: “Art thou he who doubts the doctrine of Joachim?”

Brother Peter replied: “Indeed I am.”

Then said Brother Hugo: “Hast thou ever read Joachim?”

Replied Brother Peter: “I have read and well read.”

To whom Hugo: “I believe thou hast read as a woman reads the Psalter, who does not remember at the end what she read at the beginning. Thus many read and do not understand, either because they despise what they read, or because their foolish heart is darkened. Now, therefore, tell me what thou wouldst hear as to Joachim, so that we may better know thy doubts.”

Thereupon there is question back and forth regarding the Scripture proofs of Joachim’s prophecies, for instance, those relating to Frederick’s reign. Brother Hugo dilates on Joachim’s holiness; explains the dark Scripture references, and brings in the prophecies of Merlin, _anglicus vates_, and talks of the allegorical, anagogical, tropological, moral and mystical, senses of Scripture. The discussion waxes hot. Peter begins to beat about the bush (_discurrere per ambages_), and declares it to be heretical to quote an infidel like Merlin. At which Hugo answers: “Thou liest, as I will prove _multipliciter_; for the writings of Balaam, Caiaphas, Merlin, and the Sybil are not spurned by the Church: ‘The rose gives forth no thorn, although the thorn’s daughter.’”[645]

Peter then turns to the sayings of the saints and the philosophers. But as Hugo was _doctissimus_ in these, he at once twists him up and finishes him (_statim involvit eum et conclusit ei_). Hereupon Peter’s brother Preacher, an old priest and a good, sought to come to his aid. But Peter said, “Peace, be still.” For Peter knew himself vanquished, and began to praise Brother Hugo for his manifold wisdom.

“At this moment came a messenger from the ship’s captain, bidding the
brothers Preachers hurry, and go aboard. When they had left, Brother
Hugo said to the learned men remaining, who had heard the debate:
‘Take it not for evil, if we have said some things which ought not to
have been said; for disputants often roam the fields of licence. Those
good men glory in their knowledge, and speak what is found in their
Order’s fount of wisdom, which is the Word of God. They also say that
they travel among simple folk when they pass through the places of the
brothers Minorites, where they are ministered to with loving charity.
But by the grace of God these two shall no longer be able to say they
have walked among the simple.’

“His auditors dispersed, edified and comforted, saying, We have heard
wonderful things to-day. Later, that same day, the brothers Preachers
returned, to our delight, for the weather proved unfit for sailing.
After dinner, Brother Hugo conversed with them familiarly, and Brother
Peter sat himself on the earth at Brother Hugo’s feet; nor was any one
able to make him rise and sit on the bench on the same level with him,
not even when Brother Hugo himself besought him. So Brother Peter, no
longer disputing or contradicting, but meekly listening, heard honied
words spoken by Brother Hugo, and worthy to be set down, but omitted
here for brevity’s sake, as I hasten to record other things.”[646]

So Salimbene passes on, both in his Chronicle and in his journey, but though his steps lead deviously through the cities of Provence, they bring him back once more to Hyères and Hugo, at whose feet he sits and listens for a season in rapt admiration.

After this happy season, Salimbene returned to Genoa, and from that time on spent his life among the Franciscan brotherhoods of Italy. Henceforth his Chronicle is chiefly occupied with those wretched unceasing wars of northern Italy, Imperialists against Papists, and city against city--and with the affairs of the Franciscan Order. The story is now less varied, yet not lacking in picturesque qualities; and through it all we still see the man himself, although the man, as life goes on, seems to become more of a Franciscan monk, and less of an observer of human life. But he continues naïve. Thus he tells that one time, with some companions, he came to Bobbio, that famous book-lovers’ foundation of St. Columban, in the mountains north of Genoa: “and there we saw one of those water-pots of the Lord, in which the Lord made wine from water at the marriage at Cana, for it is said to be one of those: whether it is, God knows, to whom all things are known and open and naked.”

And again, some one brings him news of the state of France in the year 1251, when King Louis was a captive in Africa;[647] and thus he tells it:

“In this year a countless crowd of shepherds came together in France,
saying that they would cross the sea to kill the Saracens and free the
King of France. Many followed from divers cities of France, and no one
dared stop them. For their leader said it was revealed to him of God
that he must lead that multitude across the sea to avenge the King of
France. The common folk believed him, and were enraged against the
religious, especially the Preachers, because they had preached the
Crusade and had ‘crossed’ men who were sailing with the king. And the
people were angry at Christ, so that they dared blaspheme His blessed
name. And when the Minorites and Preachers came seeking alms in His
name, they gnashed their teeth at them and in their sight turned and
gave the sou to some other beggar, saying, ‘Take this in Mahomet’s
name, who is stronger than Christ.’”[648]

Of those Italian wars--rather feuds, vengeances, and monstrosities of hate--Salimbene can tell enough. He gives a ghastly picture of the fate of Alberic da Romano, brother of Eccelino, and tyrant indeed of Treviso.

“There he lorded it for many years; and cruel and hard was his rule,
as those know who experienced it. He was a limb of the devil and a son
of iniquity, but he perished by an evil death with his wife and sons
and daughters. For those who slew them tore off the legs and arms from
their living bodies, in their parents’ sight, and with them struck the
parents’ faces. Then they bound the wife and daughters to stakes, and
burned them; they were noble, beautiful virgins, nor in any way in
fault. But their innocence and beauty did not save them, because of
the hatred for the father and mother. Terribly had these afflicted the
people of Treviso. So they came upon Alberic with tongs and ----”--

the sentence is too horrid for translation. But the chronicler goes on to tell that they destroyed his body amid gibes and insults and torments.

“For he had killed a blood-relative of this one, and that one’s
father, son or daughter. And he had laid such taxes and exactions on
them, that they had to destroy their houses. The very walls and beams
and chests and cupboards and wine-vats they put in boats and sent to
Ferrara to sell them and redeem themselves. I saw those with my eyes.
Alberic pretended to be at war with his brother Eccelino, so as to do
his evil deeds more safely; and he did not hold his hand from the
slaughter of citizens and subjects. One day he hanged twenty-five
prominent men of Treviso, who had done him no ill; because he feared
they would! And thirty noble women, mothers, wives and daughters of
these, were brought there to see them hanging; and he had these women
stripped half naked, that those who were hanging might see them so.
The men were hanged quite close to the ground; and he forced these
women to go so close that their faces were struck by the legs and feet
of those who were dying in anguish.”[649]

Such was the kind of devil-madness that might walk abroad in Italy in the Middle Ages. Let us relieve our minds by a story our friend tells of a certain boy placed in a Franciscan convent in Bologna, to become a monk.

“When asleep he snored so mightily, that no one could have peace in
the same house with him, so horribly did he disturb those who slept as
well as those who were at their vigils. And they made him sleep in the
shed where wood and staves were stored, but even then the brothers
could not escape, so did that voice of malediction resound through the
whole place. And all the priests and wiseacres among the brothers met
in the director’s chamber, to eject him from the Order because of his
insupportable offence: I was there. It was decided to return him to
his mother, who had deceived the Order, since she had known his defect
before letting him go. But he was not returned to his mother, for the
Lord performed a miracle through Brother Nicolas [a holy brother
through whom God had worked other miracles as well]. This brother
seeing that the boy was to be expelled for no fault, but for a natural
defect, called him at daybreak to assist at mass. When the mass was
finished, the boy as commanded knelt before him, back of the altar,
hoping to receive some grace. Brother Nicolas touched his face and
nose with his hands, in the wish to confer health upon him, if the
Lord would grant it, and commanded him to keep this secret. What more?
The boy at once was cured, and after that slept as quietly as a
dormouse without annoying any brother.”[650]

Thus we have this Chronicle, rambling, incoherent, picturesque, with its glimpses of all this pretty world, for which our Salimbene, despite his cowl, has an uncloistered eye--its keenness for incident and circumstance undeflected by the inner sight with which it could also look on the invisible world. When Brother Salimbene was young and an enthusiastic Joachite, a strong motive of his wish to live on in the flesh was to see whether those prophecies regarding Frederick came true. Alas! for this purpose he lived too long: Frederick died before the prophecies were fulfilled, and with his death honest Salimbene had to put from him his darling trust in the words of Abbot Joachim of the Order of the Flower.