It is better, perhaps, after visiting Chiesa Nuova, to go next to St. Mary of the Angels at the foot of the hill, instead of visiting San Francesco, the saint's memorial church; for at the Portioncula, within the walls of Santa Maria, Francis lived and worked and died. Most of the Brothers whose names have come down to us were received into the Order within the walls of the little chapel.

The vast baldness of Santa Maria's nave, rebuilt less than a hundred years ago, in consequence of the damage caused by an earthquake, was very uninteresting, but at the east end is the brown Portioncula, the home of Francis and of his first followers; for the little chapel remained uninjured when the earthquake shattered the walls of the outer church.

The dark walls of the Portioncula are covered with votive offerings, and over the entrance is a fresco by Overbeck. Looking within, it is difficult to imagine how the events recorded in the Fioretti could have found room to happen in the tiny place.

On the right is a chapel, the site of the cell of St. Francis; his portrait is over the altar, and there are frescoes of his companions. Our guide, a Franciscan, looked as if he had come direct from the thirteenth century, but he had not brought thence the warm, loving glow that must have radiated from the founder of his Order.

The great interest of the place is its story. The Portioncula was a well-known shrine, and had existed for years before Francis restored it from its ruinous condition. It has been told how, when he was a child, the saint was often taken by his mother to the little chapel, and prayed there beside her. Two years after he renounced his home and his father, Francis was kneeling here in prayer when he received his second inspiration. According to his biographers, he hastily rose, and, taking up a bit of cord near at hand, tied it round his waist, as the outward badge of the Order of Poor Brethren.

Our guide's scanty hair stood erect, and his red-veined blue eyes stared at us, as the Gorgons did in the Etruscan tomb. At first he would scarcely speak. He may have thought heretics would not appreciate his information. When we came to the little rose-garden outside the Chapel of the Roses, and talked to him about flowers, he thawed; he told us how an unbelieving English traveller had begged a rose-tree, so that he might try it in English soil, and how next year the Englishman had written to say that the rose-tree was covered with thorns; whereas at Santa Maria degli Angeli, these roses, brought here from St. Benedict's monastery near Subiaco, have been thornless ever since the day when St. Francis carried the original bushes from the Benedictine garden at Il Sacro Speco, and planted them here.

Our guide said we ought to pay our next visit when the roses were in blossom, "a sight to be met with in no other place." He took us into a chapel, where, under the altar, is the den into which the saint retired for penance—a most wretched hole; then we went into the sacristy, to see a Perugino. In another little chapel is the portrait of El Poverello, a very remarkable face, painted on a plank which once formed part of the saint's bed. There is a terra-cotta statue of him by Andrea della Robbia.

We went back to the church, and looked again at the Portioncula. In it Clara, or Chiara, took the vows, and here her beautiful hair was shorn from her head by St. Francis. Other memories of Santa Chiara cling about this church of Santa Maria. Perhaps the Third, or universal, Order was here determined on. The space outside has never been built on, because it was here that the memorable meeting took place between Clara and St. Francis, in answer to her repeated petitions that they might eat bread together. The meeting is very quaintly described in I Fioretti. Clara had often asked for this privilege; this time the Brothers seconded her request, and Francis granted it. He had, as soon as was possible, obtained for her the little church of San Damiano, and had built up little huts beside it for her and the poor ladies, who so soon joined her community. Clara passed the rest of her life among the Sisters, and died Abbess of the "Poor Clares" of San Damiano.

The community of Brethren met on the open space twice yearly; the great chapter of the Order convened by St. Francis eleven years after its beginning, recorded in the Fioretti, took place on this vacant ground. The number of the brethren must have increased very rapidly, for several thousands came over the hills and along the valleys from far-off parts of Italy to look their founder in the face, and to receive his instructions and his blessing. Among others came San Dominic, with some of his followers, and the Bishop of Ostia, Cardinal Ugolino, afterwards Pope Gregory IX.

The space occupied by Santa Maria must have been covered by the village of huts built by St. Francis and his Brothers. In an old map, these huts are shown built at regular distances on three sides of the Portioncula; among them is one larger than the rest, probably the Refectory or the Infirmary of the Brothers. Doubtless they lived here a happy family life, though Francis began early to send them out to found branches of the Order in other directions. The first sent away from the nest-like home was Bernard of Quintavalle, to Bologna; here he had to suffer insult and persecution, but he soon won many converts by his preaching, and established a community of Brothers Minor in that city, over which Francis appointed him guardian. This enterprise was repeated over and over again, with success, till, in his hunger after souls, several years later, El Poverello set forth with a couple of Brothers to Damietta to convert the Soldan, who is said to have permitted him to visit the Holy Sepulchre. His visit failed in its object, but it is spoken of by Jacques de Vitry, Bishop of Acre, as a fact.

He was never tired of exhorting his brethren to live joyfully, so as to make others happy. Their cares and the sorrow for sin which would from time to time beset them, they should, he told them, pour out to God in their prayers; he also exhorted them to live always according to the Rule of the Order.

The Popes seem to have troubled him by their persistent efforts to persuade him to alter the extreme simplicity of this Rule, and to assimilate his teaching with that of the other Orders. But St. Francis, always most humble and gentle in his denials, pleaded so earnestly and so sweetly for the original lines on which he had begun, that he succeeded in gaining his point both with Innocent the Third, and his successor Honorius. Even his dear friend Ugolino, the Cardinal Bishop of Ostia, tried hard, when he succeeded to the Papacy as Pope Gregory the Ninth, to convince El Poverello that union with the Dominican Order would be a gain to the Church, but the saint's sweet humility at last conquered Ugolino. These discussions, however, which made needful journeys to and from Rome, involved much loss of time, as well as mental weariness, and wore out his decreasing strength.

He was, after a time, constantly suffering, but always cheerful and uncomplaining. His greatest trial seems to have been the tendency he saw, especially in the more recent converts, to relax the strictness of the Rule in regard to Poverty; when he heard, during a journey which would take him past Bologna, that larger and more comfortable houses had been built for the Brethren there, he at once showed his displeasure by passing by the city without stopping to greet the Franciscans therein.

He always returned with fresh joy to the Portioncula, and his life there with his dear sons; a hard life, supported by the work of their own hands.

The gentle saint seems to have had plenty of dignity when called on to rebuke a wrongful act; we see this in his dealings with one of his early converts, Brother Juniper, that delightfully simple but most indiscreet of the Minor Brothers, yet of whom Francis said, after pondering on his simplicity and patience in the hour of trial:

"Would to God that I had a whole forest of such Junipers."

Indeed, on that day Brother Juniper was in sad disgrace with the other monks. He was visiting a sick Brother, and, being afire with the love of God, asked the sick man with much compassion, "Can I do thee any service?"

Replied the sick man:

"Much comfort would it give me if thou couldst get me a pig's trotter."

Straightway cried Brother Juniper:

"Leave that to me; you shall have one directly."

So he went and took a knife from the kitchen, and in fervour of spirit ran through the wood in which certain pigs were feeding; he threw himself on one of them, cut off its foot and ran away. Returning to the house, he washed and dressed and cooked the foot; and when, with much diligence, he had prepared it, he brought the foot right lovingly to the sick man.

And the sick man ate it up greedily, to the great comfort and delight of Brother Juniper, who with glee told his invalid how he had made assault upon the pig.

Meanwhile the swineherd, who saw Brother Juniper cut off the foot, went and told all the story to his lord, who, when he was ware of it, came to the house of the Brothers, crying out that they were hypocrites and thieves and knaves.

"Why have ye cut off my pig's foot?" he shouted.

At the noise he made, St. Francis and the Brothers came out, and with all humility the saint made excuses, and promised to make reparation for the outrage.

But for all that he was no whit appeased, but with much insult and threats went away from the Brothers, full of anger.

And St. Francis bethought him, and said within his heart, "Can Brother Juniper in his indiscreet zeal have done this thing?"

He called Juniper to him secretly, and said:

"Didst thou cut off the foot of a pig in the wood?"

Whereat Brother Juniper, not as if he had committed a crime, but as if he had done a deed of charity, answered cheerfully:

"It is true, dear Father, I cut off that pig's foot. Touching the reason why, I went out of charity to visit a sick Brother." He then narrated the facts, and added, "I tell thee, Father, that, considering the comfort given by the said foot to our Brother, if I had cut off the feet of a hundred pigs as I did of one, in very sooth methinks God would have said, 'Well done.'"

Whereat St. Francis said very severely, and with righteous zeal:

"Brother Juniper, why hast thou caused so great a scandal? Not without reason doth this man complain of us; he is perhaps already noising it in the city. Wherefore I command thee, by thy obedience, that thou run after him till thou come up with him, and throw thyself on the ground, and confess thy fault, promising to make such satisfaction that he may have no cause to complain of us, for of a truth this has been too grievous an offence."

Brother Juniper marvelled much at the words, being surprised that anyone should be angry at so charitable a deed. He answered:

"Doubt not, Father, that I will straightway pacify him; why should he be so disquieted, seeing that this pig was rather God's than his, and that great charity hath been done thereby?"

Francis was constantly journeying about, preaching in all the villages through which they passed, as well as in the castles which frowned down on them, founding new houses of the Order in and near the larger towns; he travelled great distances, and carried everywhere with him the element of joy, showing it forth in the lovely hymns which he and his Brothers carolled along the high-road to lighten the fatigue of their journeys.

Reading the Fioretti, one feels intimately acquainted with several of the Brothers Minor,—with gentle Fra Leone, "the little sheep of God"; with Fra Rufino, styled by Francis "one of the three most holy souls in the world"; with Fra Masseo, who seems, in one recorded instance, to have affected incredulity in regard to the saint's humility.

In those days the Portioncula and its village were surrounded by a wood, and St. Francis often said his prayers therein; one day as he came from them, he was met at the entrance of the wood by Fra Masseo of Marignano, a man of much sanctity, discretion, and grace, for the which cause St. Francis loved him much.

Said Masseo, "Why to thee? Why to thee? Why to thee?"

Quoth Francis, "What is thy meaning?"

Brother Masseo answered:

"I say, why doth all the world come straight to thee? and why do all men long to see thee, to hear thee, and obey thee? Thou art not a man comely to look at, thou hast not much learning, thou art not noble: whence is it, then, that to thee the whole world comes?"

Hearing this, St. Francis, all overjoyed in spirit, lifting up his face to Heaven, stood for a great while wrapped in meditation.

Anon returning to himself again, he knelt him down, and rendered thanks and praises unto God; and then with great fervour of spirit he turned him to Brother Masseo, and said:

"Wilt thou know why to me? Wilt thou know why to me? Wilt thou know why to me the whole world doth run? This cometh unto me from the eyes of the most High God, which behold in every place the evil and the good: for those most holy eyes have seen among sinners none more vile, none more lacking, no worse sinner than I.... Therefore hath He chosen me to confound the nobleness and the strength and the greatness and the beauty and wisdom of the world, to the intent that men may know that all virtue and all goodness come from Him, and not from the creature, and that no man may glory in himself; but whoso will glory may glory in the Lord."

He often told his Brothers they must never forsake the Portioncula, which he and they also so dearly loved. But his strength was almost spent, and when he was only forty-two, two years before his death, he appointed Brother Bernard vicar-general of the Order, so that he might give himself up more completely to meditation and prayer before the end came.

He had founded a community near Rome, and appointed a good and discreet Guardian thereto; but this Brother seems to have had some difficulty in controlling the outbreaks of Brother Juniper, who had been sent to this Roman home.

There came a time when all the other Brethren had to go out.

Quoth the Guardian, "Brother Juniper, we are all going out; see to it that when we return you have cooked a little food for the refreshment of the Brothers."

Replied Brother Juniper, "Right willingly; leave that to me."

Said Brother Juniper to himself, "It is a pity that one Brother should always have to be in the kitchen, instead of saying prayers with the rest. Of a surety, now that I am left behind to cook, I will make ready so much food that all the Brothers will have enough for a fortnight, and the cook will have less to do."

So he went with all diligence into the country, and begged several large cooking pots; he got also meat, fowls, eggs, vegetables, and firewood in plenty; then he put all the eatables in the pots to cook, to wit, the fowls with their feathers on, the eggs in their shells, and so with the rest.

After a while the Brothers came back to the home, and one of them going to the kitchen, saw many great pots on an enormous fire; he sat him down and looked on with amazement, but said nothing, watching the care with which Brother Juniper did his cooking, and how he hurried from one pot to the other. Having watched it all with great delight, the Brother left the kitchen, and, finding the other Friars, said to them:

"I have to tell you Brother Juniper is making a marriage feast." But the Brothers took his word as a jest.

Presently Brother Juniper lifted the pots from the fire, and rang the dinner bell. The Brothers sat down to table, and he came into the refectory with his dishes, red-faced with his exertions.

Quoth he, "Eat well, and then let us all go and pray: no one need think of the kitchen for a while; I have cooked enough food for a fortnight."

And Brother Juniper set his stew on the table. But there is not a pig in the whole countryside that would have partaken of it.

Then Juniper, seeing that the Brothers did not eat thereof, said:

"These fowls are strengthening for the brain, and this stew is so good it will refresh the body." But while the Brothers were full of wonder at his simplicity, the Guardian was wroth with the waste of so much good food, and reproved him roughly.

Then Brother Juniper threw himself on the ground and humbly confessed his fault, saying, "I am the worst of men."

After this he went sorrowfully out of the refectory. The Guardian, touched by his humility, asked the Brethren to be kind to Juniper, who had, with good intentions, erred through ignorance.

Such pity had Brother Juniper for the poor, that when he saw anyone ill-clad or naked he would at once take off his tunic, and the cowl of his cloak, and give it to the beggar.

Wherefore the Guardian commanded him that he should give to no poor person his tunic or any part of his habit.

Now it happened that a few days after, he met a poor man half-naked, who asked alms for the love of God.

"I have nothing," quoth he, "I could give thee save my tunic, and my Superior hath enjoined me not to give it to anyone, but if thou take it off my back I will not say thee nay."

He spoke not to the deaf, for straightway the poor man pulled his tunic off his back and went away with it.

And when Brother Juniper returned to the house, and was asked what had become of his tunic, he answered—

"A poor man took it off my back and went away with it." His charity had become incessant.

More than once our gentle saint had visited La Vernia, a bleak and rugged mountain some four thousand feet above the Casentino valley. On these occasions, his friend the Count Orlando Cattani of Chiusi, had caused a hut to be built for him near the hilltop. On this last visit, Francis felt a pressing need of solitude, so that he might more entirely give himself to prayer. He took with him the three men who are said to have written the charming sketch of him, called, in the French version of it, La LÉgende des trois Compagnons, Fra Leone, Fra Masseo, and Fra Angelo.

When they had travelled for two days, Francis became so weak he could go no farther, so the Brothers found a peasant with an ass, and persuaded him to lend it to their teacher. In doing this they gave his name, Francis of Assisi.

The peasant was greatly impressed, for, throughout Italy and beyond, this name was a name of power; some way up the mountain of La Vernia, or, as it is also called, Alvernia, the peasant leading the ass said to its rider:

"I hear that you are Francis of Assisi; well, then, I will give you a bit of advice: Try to be as good as people say you are, and then they will not be deceived in you."

For answer Francis scrambled down from the ass's back, and, kneeling before the amazed peasant, he thanked him with all his heart and soul for his counsel.

There is a plateau at the hilltop surrounded by pines and huge beech-trees, but before reaching this the whole party was so exhausted by the long climb in the heat of August sunshine, that they sat down to rest beneath the spreading branches of an oak-tree. The birds, accustomed to live in solitude, came fluttering round them, and settled especially on the shoulders and head of St. Francis.

When they reached the top, Francis bade his companions stay in their customary refuge while he went on by himself. He seems to have stayed alone, in a shelter contrived by the Brothers, for forty days, during which Fra Leone brought every night and morning some bread and water, which he left at the door of the refuge. A falcon used to tap at the door at dawn to awaken St. Francis. He is said to have received the vision of the Stigmata here on Michaelmas Day, and soon afterwards, leaving two of the Brothers in charge of the retreat on the mount, he took a touching leave of them, and of the place itself. He thanked the birds who had so lovingly welcomed his arrival, and especially Brother Falcon, as he termed it, for his daily summons.

He then took his way, on horseback this time, with as little delay as possible, accompanied by his devoted Leo, till he reached the Portioncula, sorely exhausted and full of pain. Still he was bent on starting at once for the south, and seeking to win fresh souls for Christ. His strength rapidly decreased, and his sight had begun to fail him. He was advised to make a journey to Rieti, where Pope Honorius, being driven out of Rome, was then staying, The Pope had with him a famous doctor, who it was hoped might cure St. Francis. But he had not much faith in earthly remedies, and declined to go to Rieti; when, however, St. Clare and some of the Brethren pressed him to spend a little time of rest and refreshment at San Damiano, he was glad to go there.

Though he was in constant suffering, he seems really to have enjoyed this visit. Saint Clare had caused a willow hut to be built for him in her garden, and though at night rats and mice tormented him, his joyousness and his poetic power returned with their early vigour; for it was during these weeks of peaceful outer life, though blind, and suffering from hÆmorrhage of the lungs, that he composed his famous Canticle.

It happened that one day, while seated at table in the refectory of San Damiano, before the meal began, Francis seemed all at once to be wrapped in a kind of ecstasy. When he roused from this, and became fully conscious, he exclaimed, "May God be praised!"

He had just composed the Canticle of the Sun.

"Altissimu, onnipotente, bon signore,

tue so le laude, la gloria, e l'onore et onne benedictione.

Ad te solo, altissimo, se konfano

et nullu homo ene dignu te mentovare.