as other reformers did; he exerted a reformatory influence solely by his life, for he possessed the secret of the great love.  During his whole life he was averse to laying down rules for his followers, although continually urged to do so by popes and bishops.  His importance does not lie in the foundation of an order with certain regulations and a specific object, but in the fact that he was a vital force.  He broke the norms of the Church whenever it seemed right to him to do so, for he was absolutely sure of himself; without being ordained he preached to the people in his own tongue, probably the first man (after the Provencal Peter Valdez) who did so; without possessing the slightest authority he consecrated his friend Clara as a nun.  Innocent III., who made the suppression of heresy the task of his life, showed great intelligence and wisdom in sanctioning St. Francis’ sermons to the people and acknowledging his unecclesiastical brotherhood.  This probably transformed a dangerous revolutionary into a faithful servant of the Church.  Maybe the Church was indebted to St. Francis for being saved from a great early reformation; signs of it were not wanting, and another Arnold of Brescia might have arisen and brought about her overthrow.  It is doubtful whether the Church would have come out of a Franciscan crusade as victoriously as she came out of her struggle with Provence.

St. Francis regarded science with indifference.  “Every demon,” he said, “has more scientific knowledge than all men on earth put together.  But there is something a demon is incapable of, and in it lies the glory of man.  A man can be faithful to God.”  With those words he had inwardly overcome tradition and theology, and direct knowledge of the divine had dawned in his soul.  He even forbade his brethren to own copies of the Scriptures.  God in the heart—­that was the core of his doctrine.  With all his wonderful intuition he was absolutely innocent of the pride of ignorance; he really felt himself smaller than the smallest of men—­unlike the bishops and popes who called themselves the servants of the servants of God, without attaching the least meaning to it.  How characteristic of his simple mind was his passionate insistence on the respectful handling of the vessels used at holy Mass, because they were destined to receive the body of the Lord.  And yet he hardly knew anything of the symbolic transmutation of bread and wine—­he accepted the miracle without a thought, like a child.

In the year 1219, St. Francis took part in a Crusade.  While the battle of Damietta was raging, he went into the camp of the Saracens and preached before the Sultan, who received him with respect and sent him back unharmed.  According to the legend, he then went to Bethlehem and Jerusalem, where the Sultan, touched by his personality, gave him access to the sacred shrines.  To Francis this pilgrimage to the Holy Land had a profound meaning, for to him Christianity meant the imitation of Christ.