Brother Francis Part 3

self-sacrificing work, and often grieved when he saw him doing what he was physically so unfitted for. He conceived a violent admiration for his young lodger, and in spite of his poverty he always contrived to have some dainty dish, or t.i.t-bit for him when he returned to meals.

Now Francis always had been particular as to his food, he liked it well served, and he was also very fond of all kinds of sweets and confectionery. For a time he thanked his friend and ate gratefully the pleasant dishes he had provided. One day as he sat at dinner the thought came to him "what should I do if I had n.o.body to provide my meals." Then he saw for the first time that he was still under bondage to his appet.i.te. He enjoyed nice food, it seemed necessary to him--but was it like that Life he so earnestly strove to copy. Francis sat condemned. The next moment he jumped up and seizing a wooden bowl he went round the streets from door to door begging for sc.r.a.ps of broken meat and bread. The people stared harder than ever, but in a little time his bowl was quite full, and he returned home and sat down to eat his rations.

[Sidenote: _A Beggar._]

He tried hard, but he turned against them with loathing. In all his life he thought he had never seen such a horrid collection! Then, lifting his heart to G.o.d, he made another trial and tasted the food.

Lo and behold it was not bad, and as he continued his coa.r.s.e meal he thought that no dish had ever tasted better! Praising G.o.d for victory he went to the priest and told him that he would be no further expense to him, from henceforth he would beg his meals.

When Pietro heard that his son had added to his eccentricities by begging for his food his anger knew no bounds! When he met him in the streets he blushed with shame, and often cursed him. But if his family were ashamed of him, there were many among the townsfolk with whom he found sympathy. Help came in on all sides, and at last the walls were repaired, and the church was no longer in danger of tumbling into a ma.s.s of ruins. What was needed for the inside was got in the same way as the stones, and pretty soon a congregation was forthcoming.

One of the hardest sacrifices G.o.d required from Francis connected with this work was one evening when he was out begging from house to house for oil to light the church. He came to a house where an entertainment was going on, a feast very similar to those he had so often presided over in his worldly days. He looked down on his poor common dress, and thought with shame what a figure he would cut among the gay, well-dressed crowd within. For a moment he felt tempted to skip this house. But it was only for a moment; reproaching himself bitterly, he pushed in and standing before the festive gathering, told them simply how much he had objected to coming in, and for what reason, adding that he feared his timidity was counted to him as sin, because he was working in G.o.d's name, and in His service. His request was taken in good part, and his words so touched all present that they were eager to give him the aid he sought.

[Sidenote: _St. Damian's Finished._]

After St. Damian's was quite restored, Francis set to work and did the same for two other equally needy churches in the vicinity. One was St.

Peter's, and the other St. Mary's or the Portiuncula. The second one became eventually the cradle of the Franciscan movement. Here he built for himself a cell, where he used to come to pour out his soul in prayer. When his work of repairing came to an end, he gave himself up to meditation, his whole idea being that he would henceforth lead the life of a recluse. But G.o.d disposed!

CHAPTER V.

FRANCIS' CALL.

"Oh, my Lord, the Crucified, Who for love of me hast died, Mould me by Thy living breath, To the likeness of Thy death, While the thorns Thy brows entwine, Let no flower wreath rest on mine."

But Francis kept a listening ear. G.o.d's word was his law, and though he to a certain extent planned what he would do next, yet he left himself entirely free in his Lord's hands, and at His disposal. Had he not remained in this att.i.tude of soul, or had he become wise in his own conceits, or failed to keep his heart and soul fresh with the first vital freshness of regeneration, what would have become of the great Franciscan movement that was destined ultimately to stir the world? G.o.d alone knows. _He_ keeps count of lost opportunities, calls neglected, soul stirrings lulled to barren fruitless slumber!

The natural tendency of a soul which has been awakened to great action, and accomplished daring feats, is--the first strain pa.s.sed--to relax, or settle down. It is only the minority that struggle and fight and get the victory over this subtle temptation. The same principle applies in a larger scale, and that is why it is so many glorious religious movements have run a course and then dwindled into mediocrity, the later disciples carving for themselves a medium way.

Francis' life-work might easily have dwindled into nothing just here.

He had not the least intimation that the Lord demanded anything more of him but that he should love and serve Him all the days of his life, in an ordinary un.o.btrusive manner. Two years had been spent in repairing the churches, and Francis was now between twenty-seven and twenty-eight years of age.

[Sidenote: _His Commission._]

It was on the twenty-fourth of February in the year 1209 that he received his call to direct spiritual work. That morning he went to church as usual, and the words of the Gospel for the day came to him direct from Jesus Christ Himself.

"Wherever ye go preach, saying, 'The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand.

Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils. Freely ye have received, freely give. Provide neither silver nor gold nor bra.s.s in your purses, neither scrip, nor two coats, nor shoes, nor staff, for the laborer is worthy of his hire.'"

These words were a revelation.

"This is what I want," cried Francis, as he left the church, conscious for the first time that he had wanted something. "This is what I have long been seeking, from this day forth I shall set myself with all my strength to put it in practice."

Immediately he took up his new commission. He threw away his shoes, his stick, his purse, and put on the coa.r.s.e dress of the peasant of the Apennines, and girded it with a rough piece of rope, the first thing he could find. Thus equipped, he set out a true Knight of our Lord Jesus Christ, and for the first time in his life began to talk to the people he met about their souls. That eloquent fiery tongue, that was destined to make him one of the orators of the age, had not yet become unloosed, and Francis was simplicity itself. Indeed, he did not at first attempt to make anything like a speech or sermon. His efforts were directed towards people whom he was acquainted with, and these he urged to repent in the name of the Lord. He told his own experience, and spoke of the shortness of life, of punishment after death, of the need of heart and life holiness. His halting words struck home, they pierced like a sword, and many thus convicted, repented and turned from their evil ways.

[Sidenote: _A Sanctified Leader of Men._]

For over two years now, Francis had lived a solitary, and--humanly speaking--a lonely life. He had, however, during that time proved the sufficiency of G.o.d. We do not read that he ever longed for a human friend, one that could understand and sympathise with him, so richly had G.o.d supplied his every need. But the time had come when his solitude was to end. G.o.d was about to raise him up friends. Again he was to take up his old position as a leader of men, only a sanctified one.

Bernardo di Quintavelle was a man of birth and position. He was a few years older than Francis, and as he lived in a.s.sisi, he had full opportunity of watching all Francis' vagaries, for so his actions looked to him at first. However, as time pa.s.sed, and Francis' supposed mania failed to develop into anything very dangerous, Bernardo puzzled and wondered. What was it, he asked himself, that had so completely changed the gay, frivolous, ease-loving Francis Bernardone, into a poor hard-working beggar? Was he really as good and holy as the common people began to whisper to themselves? We must bear in mind that vital religion in a.s.sisi was at its lowest ebb, and the kind that worked itself out in daily life and action almost unknown.

Pretty soon Bernardo determined to study Francis close to. Again and again he invited him to his house, and the more he saw of the gracious, humble, G.o.d-fearing, Francis, the more he liked him. One night he asked him to stay till the next day, and Francis consenting, he had a bed made up for him in his own room. They retired. In a short time Bernardo was, to all appearances, extremely sound asleep. Then Francis rose from his bed, and kneeling down began to pray. A deep sense of the Divine presence overflowed him, and he could do nothing but weep and cry, "Oh, my G.o.d, oh, my G.o.d!" He continued all night praying, and weeping before the Lord.

[Sidenote: _Bernardo._]

Now Bernardo, who was only pretending to be asleep in order to see what Francis would do, was greatly touched. G.o.d visited him too that night, and spoke to his soul so loudly and clearly that he dare not do ought but follow the light that that night began to glimmer on his future path. Little he thought into what a large place it would ultimately lead him.

Next morning, true to his new-born inspiration, he said to Francis--

"I am disposed in my heart to leave the world and obey thee in all that thou shalt command me."

To say that Francis was surprised is to say too little! He was astonished--so astonished that it was difficult to find words in which to answer. That the people he influenced would rise up and desire to share his life, with its privations, and eccentricities had never as yet occurred to him. His sole and only aim had been that his every individual act and thought should be in conformity to that of our Lord Jesus Christ. But "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto Me,"

and Francis, by his humble life and work, had brought that Blessed Life wherever he went. This is the Divine design for every faithful soul that seeks to truly follow its Master. The man who could live and spread holiness as an ordinary day-laborer and stone-mason was now to receive a greater charge. As soon as he recovered from the first surprise of Bernardo's statement, he said--

"Bernardo, a resolution such as the one thou speakest of is so difficult, and so great an action, that we must take counsel of the Lord Jesus, and pray Him that He may point out His will, and teach us to follow it."

So they set off together for the church. While on their way there that morning they were joined by another brother called Pietro, who said that he too had been told of G.o.d to join Francis. So the three went together to read the Gospels and pray for light.

Francis was soon convinced that Bernardo and Pietro were led of G.o.d, and joyfully welcomed them as his fellow-laborers. They took up their abode in a deserted mud hut, close by a river known as the Riva Torto.

And that mean little hut was the cradle which contained the beginning of a work that spread itself into every quarter of the globe.

[Sidenote: _Egidio._]

"Francis," said Bernardo, a little later, "What wouldst thou do supposing a great king had given thee possessions for which thou afterwards hadst no use?"

"Why, give them back to be sure," answered Francis.

"Then," said Bernardo, "I will that I sell all my possessions, and give the money to the poor."

So he did. Land, houses, all that he possessed he sold, and distributed the proceeds to the poor in the market-place. One can easily imagine the sensation this caused in a.s.sisi, and how almost the entire population thronged to the spot!

The news of this day's doings spread into all the country-side. In a town not far from a.s.sisi, a certain young man, called Egidio, listened intently while his father and mother discussed Bernardo and Francis and went into their history past and present, and speculated on their future. Little they thought as they talked that their cultured, refined son was drinking in every word, and that his soul was being strangely stirred. Before the week was out, Egidio had received the Divine touch that fitted him to respond to the call--"Follow Me." In the marvellously colored dawn of an Italian morning, Egidio rose and "followed."

Arriving in a.s.sisi at a crossway he was at a standstill. Where should he look for Francis? Which of those roads should he take? While he thus alternately debated with himself, and prayed for guidance, who should he see coming along out of the forest where he had been to pray, but Francis himself! There was no mistaking that curious bare-footed figure, with its coa.r.s.e robe of the color known to the peasants as "beast" color, girded with a knotted rope! Egidio threw himself at Francis' feet, and besought him to receive him for the love of G.o.d.

"Dear brother," said Francis, who during the past week had learned not to be surprised when he received candidates for his work. "Dear brother, G.o.d hath conferred a great grace upon thee! If the Emperor were to come to a.s.sisi and propose to make one of its citizens his knight or secret chamberlain, would not such an offer be joyfully accepted as a great mark of honor and distinction? How much more shouldst thou rejoice that G.o.d hath called thee to be His Knight and chosen servant, to observe the perfection of His Holy Gospel!

Therefore do thou stand firm in the vocation to which G.o.d hath called thee."

[Sidenote: _First Apostolic Tour._]

So bringing him into the hut Francis called the others and said--

"G.o.d has sent us a good brother, let us therefore rejoice in the Lord and eat together in charity."

After they had eaten breakfast Francis took Egidio into a.s.sisi to get cloth to make him a "beast-colored" uniform robe like the others. On the way Francis thought he would like to try the young man and see what kind of a spirit he had. So upon meeting a poor woman, who asked them for money, Francis said to Egidio--

"I pray you, as we have no money, give this poor woman your cloak."