It is necessary here to remark that St. Francis, who permitted some

of his brethren to remain with the cardinals, did not think that he

himself, who was the superior, ought to spend a single night in their

palaces, lest others should be disedified thereby, and that it was his

duty to give good example to all. This shows how much persons in power

should strive not to do anything calculated to give bad examples, and

to abstain from certain things which, though irreprehensible in

themselves, and which would not be noticed in a lowly individual, might

be a cause of scandal in one of high station, who ought to be a model

of virtue. On this principle, St. Paul said to the Christians: "All

things are lawful for me, but all things are not expedient. All things

are lawful for me, but all things do not edify. I do all for your

edification." He recommended his disciples, Timothy and Titus, whom

he had ordained bishops, to be "an example to the faithful, in word,

in conversation, in charity, in faith, in chastity, in the practice

of good works." St. Gregory, St. Bernard, and all the Holy Fathers

have always required of prelates, as a primary qualification, that

they should greatly edify; which is the more necessary in the superiors

of religious communities, as their example is under more immediate

observation.

The bad health of Francis, the beating which he had received from the

devils, and a constant fall of rain, compelled him to ride on an ass.

During his journey he dismounted to say the Divine Office, standing;

he remained on the same spot without paying attention to the rain, and

did not mount till he had quite finished.

Having reached Grecio, he found all things prepared for the celebration

of the festival by his friend Velita. They had prepared a crib in the

wood, in which was represented the Nativity of our Saviour; they had

placed straw there, and, during Christmas-night, also took there an

ox and an ass. Many Friars Minor had arrived at the wood from the

neighboring convents, and the people of the environs came in crowds

to the ceremony. The wood was lit up by numerous torches, and resounded

melodiously from the sound of a thousand voices which sang the praises

of God with untiring zeal. Francis, full of devotion, and with his

eyes bathed in tears of holy joy, knelt before the manger, above which

an altar had been placed, where mass was celebrated at midnight; he

acted as deacon, and after having sung the Gospel, he preached on the

birth of the newborn King, became poor.

Velita, who had prepared the ceremonial, assured them that he had seen

a most beautiful child in the manger, who was asleep, and whom Francis

tenderly embraced in order to awaken it. There is so much the more

reason for giving credit to this marvel, says St. Bonaventure, since

he who relates it, having been an eye-witness thereof, was a very holy

man, and since it was confirmed by many miracles; for the straw on

which the child appeared to be sleeping, had the virtue of curing

various maladies amongst cattle; and, what is still more wonderful,

those who came to visit the spot, however tepid and indevout they may

have been, were inflamed with the love of God. After the death of the

Saint, a chapel was erected on the spot, and the altar was placed at

the manger, in order that the flesh of the man-Cod immolated on the

cross, might be eaten on the spot on which He had chosen to appear as

a sleeping infant.

After the ceremony, Francis retired to the convent of Grecio, where

some of the provincial ministers had collected, who had come thither

to communicate to him the affairs of their respective provinces. The

refectory had been set out in a better style than usual, with napkins

and glasses, not only on account of the solemnity of the day, but to

show respect to the guests. Francis was displeased at this, and, during

dinner, he went to the door of the convent, and took the hat and staff

of a pilgrim who was soliciting alms, and then, in this garb, came to

the refectory to beg as a poor pilgrim. The superior, who knew him by

his voice, said to him, smiling: "Brother pilgrim, there are here very

many religious, who stand in great need of what has been bestowed upon

them out of charity; however, come in, and they will give you what

they can." Francis came in and sat himself on the ground, where he ate

very contentedly some scraps of bread and other things which they gave

him on a platter, without choosing to have anything else.

Francis remained some time at Grecio, where, one night, when he intended

to lay himself down to sleep, he felt a severe headache, and a shivering

over his whole body, which quite impeded his resting. Thinking that

this might be caused by a feather pillow which his friend Velita had

compelled him to accept, in consequence of his infirmities, he called

his companion, who was near his cell, and said: "Take away this pillow:

I believe the devil is in it." His companion, who took it away, found

it extremely heavy, and he had hardly left the cell, when he found

himself motionless and dumb. The Father, not doubting of the malignity

of the devil, ordered the brother, under obedience, to come back

directly; the wicked spirit having immediately left him, he came back

and related the state in which he had found himself. The Saint,

confirmed by this in the idea with which he had been impressed, that

what he had suffered had been brought on by his enemy, said:--"It is

true that yesterday, when reciting Compline, I perceived that the devil

was approaching, and I prepared to resist him. He is full of malice

and artfulness; as he could not sully a soul which God protects by His

grace, he endeavored to injure the body, and to prevent the necessary

aid being afforded to it; desiring to induce it to commit some fault,

at least of impatience, and prevent its having recourse to prayer."

The holy man was delivered from his sufferings, and got the rest he

could not obtain, when his head was laid upon a feather pillow. To

what a height of perfection did not God propose to raise this His

faithful Servant? He did not even allow him to have a small relief

from his sufferings. He is a holy God, jealous of the sanctity of

souls, who desires to have them purified by all sorts of sacrifices;

but, then, His rewards are great.

Whilst Francis was at Grecio and in its environs, Peter of Catania,

his first vicar-general, died in the Convent of St. Mary of the Angels,

on the 2d day of March, 1224. As soon as he was in the tomb, God bore

witness to his merit by many miracles. The people crowded to his grave,

and left valuable offerings, which greatly disturbed the quiet of the

religious, and caused them much uneasiness on account of their strict

poverty. Francis, having been informed of it, went to the tomb, and,

moved by holy zeal, he addressed the dead man in a commanding tone,

with which God alone could have inspired him: "Brother Peter, whilst

you were living, you always obeyed me punctually: I command you to

obey me similarly now. Those who come to your grave are very troublesome

to us. Our poverty is offended, and our quiet infringed on, so that

our discipline becomes relaxed; thus, I command you, by your vow of

obedience, to refrain from performing any more miracles." His order

was obeyed. From that moment no more miracles were performed at the

tomb of Brother Peter.

An ancient manuscript chronicle which is preserved in the Vatican,

mentions that Francis, having directed the body of Brother Peter to

be removed sometime afterwards, it was found that it was turned and

kneeling, the head bowed down, and in the posture of one who obeys a

command given him. To mark the value of obedience and the respect due

to it, God was pleased to permit a dead person to obey the orders of

a superior, as if he had been living.

A similar prohibition from performing miracles after death, is recorded

in the life of St. Bernard. Gosvin, Abbot of Citeaux, who was at his

funeral with many other abbots of his order, seeing the commotion

caused by the numerous miracles which were worked there, and fearing

this would become prejudicial to regular discipline, approached

respectfully to the coffin, and forbade the saint from performing any

more miracles, in virtue of his obedience. And, in fact, from that

time, there were no more performed at that shrine publicly, although

God performed others privately by his invocation. The author adds,

that St. Benedict requires in his rule, an obedience without reserve,

according to the example of Jesus Christ, who was obedient unto death,

and that the soul of St. Bernard rendered itself obedient even after

death to a mortal man.

Clare, and her daughters of the Monastery of St. Damian, now asked

Francis to give them a written rule, and a form of life similar to

that of the Friars Minor, in order that, in his absence and after his

death, they and those who should succeed them, might live up to it.

These Religious of St. Damian, did not wish to receive the rule of St.

Benedict, nor the constitutions prepared by Cardinal Ugolino, which

the other monasteries, established on the plan of St. Damian, had

willingly accepted, and which were of great severity: these nuns desired

to have a rule which should be of even greater rigor.

The holy Patriarch consulted the same cardinal on this subject, he

being the protector of both Orders; and they jointly composed a rule

in twelve chapters, which was similar in all respects to that of the

Friars Minor, with modifications and usages proper for females. If

anything made Francis hesitate, the cardinal gave his opinion either

to modify certain parts, or to take precautions on others. He also

used some articles from the constitutions which had before been drawn

up. While he was writing, he could not help shedding tears, in

reflecting that young females were willing to practise austerities of

such a nature.

St. Clare says in her will, addressing herself to the sisters: "Our

blessed Father, St. Francis, has written for us a form of life,

principally that we may ever persevere in the practice of holy poverty,

to which he has exhorted us, not only by his word and example, but by

many writings which he has left us. Pope Innocent IV expressly declares

in the bull which he issued at the earnest entreaty of St. Clare, three

days before her death, that the rule which he confirms was given them

by St. Francis. All is his, except some very trifling things, in no

way essential, which seem to have been added to it by Cardinal Ugolino,

by St. Clare, and by the Pope.

"It was in the year, 1224, that the marvellous apparition recorded by

Wading was seen, which is noted as follows in the legend of St.

Bonaventure:

"Although Francis could not attend the provincial chapters, the order

which he had laid down for these assemblies, the fervent prayers which

he put up for their success, and the influence of the blessing which

he gave them, were as if he were present at them. Sometimes even, God,

by His almighty power, caused him to appear among them in a sensible

manner, as it happened at the chapter at Arles. While that excellent

preacher Anthony was discoursing to the brethren on the Passion of the

Son of God, and on the inscription on His cross, 'JESUS OF NAZARETH,

KING OF THE JEWS,' one of the religious, named Monald, a man of

exemplary virtue, moved by the Spirit of God to look towards the door

of the chapterhouse, saw the blessed Francis, raised into the air with

his arms extended as a cross, giving his blessing to the assembly.

They then became filled with great spiritual consolation, which was

an interior testimonial assuring them of the presence of their Father,

and confirming what Monald had seen. This became more certain,

afterwards, by the avowal which Francis made respecting it."

"We should have no difficulty in believing this," continues St.

Bonaventure, "for God, by His almighty power, rendered the holy Bishop

St. Ambrose, during a mysterious sleep, present at the funeral obsequies

of St. Martin; in a similar manner it was His pleasure that the truths

announced by His preacher Anthony, on the subject of the Cross of Jesus

Christ, should receive greater weight by the presence of His Servant

Francis, who carried the cross with such exemplary courage, and preached

it with such zeal."

Having given a rule to the sisters of St. Damian, and transacted all

that related to the three orders, Francis recommended strongly to

Brother Elias, to attend carefully, and to see that everything was

carried into effect, and then thought it necessary to take some time

to attend to his own interior. For it was his custom to go from one

good work to another, in which he imitated, St. Bonaventure says, the

angels whom Jacob saw in his dream, going up and down the mysterious

ladder, the feet of which rested on the earth, but its summit reached

the heavens. This angelic man so employed the time which was given

him, in which to amass treasures of merit, that he was constantly

occupied either in descending to his neighbor by the laborious

ministries of charity, or in elevating himself to God in the quiet

exercise of contemplation. When circumstances had compelled him to

give more time to the service of souls, he afterwards retired to some

lonely and noiseless place, to remove from himself, by giving his

thoughts solely to God, all the filth which might have attached itself

to him in his intercourse with men. Our Lord often gave His apostles

examples of retreats, and they cannot be too often recommended to those

who labor for the salvation of their neighbors.

Francis, therefore, went with some of his brethren to meditate in the

convent of Celles, near Cortona. He met on the road a lady of good

family, who was very pious and in great affliction, having a husband

who used her cruelly, and prevented her from serving God. She told him

that she was come to pray to God for the conversion of her husband,

and he made her this answer: "Go in peace; and rest assured that your

husband will soon afford you consolation; only tell him from God and

from me, that now is the time of mercy, and that afterwards will be

the time of justice." The lady received the Father's blessing, and

said what she had just learned to her husband. The Holy Ghost descended

at the same moment on this man, and he became so changed, that he said

to his wife in a mild tone of voice, "Madam, let us serve God and work

out our salvation." He passed thus many years with her in continence,

with which she had inspired him, and they died most holily on the same

day.

We saw in the first two Tertiaries, a wife sanctified by her husband.

This is precisely what St. Paul says: The one may contribute to the

sanctification of the other. In fact, St. Chrysostom thinks that a

virtuous woman who is mild and prudent, is more likely to bring back

a profligate husband to the service of God, than any other person; and

that the solid piety of a husband, with good manners and discreet

firmness, may soften the asperity of an ill-tempered woman, or at least

render her less fractious.

All that Francis did at Celles, was to give himself up to contemplation;

and, in order that the place itself should be favorable to meditation,

he resolved, after having been there a short time, to retire to the

desert of Mount Alvernia; it was the Holy Ghost who inspired him with

the desire to go thither, where he was to receive the glorious privilege

of the stigmata. As he passed through the country of Arezzo, his great

infirmities compelled him to ask for an ass to continue his journey.

There was not one in the village, but a person offered him a horse,

which he was under the necessity of accepting: it was the only time

that he had been on horseback since his conversion; for, whenever he

had been forced to ride, he took the most despicable animal, in order

to set an example to his brethren. In the village to which the horse

was sent back, there was a woman who, for several days, was suffering

cruelly from labor-pains, without being able to be delivered, so that

no human hope remained of saving her life. The people of the place,

seeing the horse brought back which had carried the Saint, took the

bridle and placed it on the woman's bed, in full confidence that he

who had had the use of it, would come to her aid; and, in fact, she

was immediately, most fortunately, delivered. This fact is one of those

related by St. Bonaventure.

On Mount Alvernia Francis reaped extraordinary consolations in

meditation; he was filled with ardent desires of heaven, and, at the

same time, he felt that the celestial gifts were communicated to him

in greater abundance. These interior feelings which threw his soul

into ecstasies, raised his body into the air to greater or less height,

in proportion to their degree, as if an extreme disgust for every thing

that was connected with the earth, gave him a stimulus to raise himself

to his celestial home.

Brother Leo, his secretary and his confessor, attests to have seen him

raised sometimes to the height of a man, so that one could touch his

feet, sometimes, above the tallest beech-trees, and sometimes so high,

that he was elevated out of sight. When he was not raised higher than

the height of a man, Leo kissed his feet and watered them with his

tears, with tender devotion, saying the following prayer: "My God, be

merciful to me, a sinner such as I am, by the merits of this holy man,

and deign to communicate to me some small portion of Thy grace." When

he lost sight of him, he prostrated himself and prayed, on the spot

on which he had seen him elevate himself.

St. Thomas and many others believed that St. Paul in his rapture may

have been elevated in body and soul into the third heaven, that is,

into the Empyrean, into Paradise, into the place where the angels and

the blessed are; and we must not call this in question, since the

apostle himself says, that he does not know whether he was raised up

in the body or out of the body. St. Theresa, whose works are published

by authority, says that she had sometimes raptures in which she was

raised from the ground by a supernatural power, whatever resistance

she might make; that others saw her in this state, and she saw herself

in it. We may therefore believe that God raised the body of His Servant

Francis, while his soul was in raptures by interior operations; more

particularly, as the fact is attested by so trustworthy a witness as

Leo, who certifies having seen it with his own eyes. "God," says St.

Theresa, "grants extraordinary favors to a soul, to detach it entirely

from everything that is earthly, by the body itself, so that life

becomes burthensome to it, and that it suffers a sort of torment brought

on by a violent desire of possessing God, which is a martyrdom both

agreeable, and, at the same time, painful; but we must be under the

conviction, that with ordinary grace, which God increases in proportion

to faithfulness, we may attain to an entire disengagement from worldly

affairs, and to that longing for heaven which, as Christians, we are

obliged to feel."

One day, when Francis was restored from one of the ecstasies which had

raised him from the ground, Jesus Christ appeared seated at a low stone

table, where the Saint was in the habit of taking his meals, and

speaking to him with the familiarity of a friend, as to the protection

which He proposed to give to the Order, after his death, He made known

to him the following points: first, that the Order would last to the

end of the world; secondly, that those who should persecute the Order,

would not be long-lived, unless they became converted; the third and

fourth points, related to favors which our Saviour promised not only

to the Friars Minor, but to those who were sincerely attached to them.

When our Lord had disappeared from the table, Brother Leo, not knowing

what had happened, was about to prepare it, as usual, for their meal,

but Francis stopped him, saying: "It must be washed with water, with

wine, with milk, with oil, and with balm, for Jesus Christ has

condescended to sit on it, and to make known to me from thence what

will be communicated to you hereafter." As Brother Leo had not the

articles he required, he only took oil, as Jacob had done, to consecrate

this table to the Lord, and, having poured oil on it, he pronounced

these words: "This is the altar of God." He then told his companion

the four favors which had been promised and added that there was a

fifth which he should not repeat: it was thought that it was out of

humility; for, after his death, it was revealed to Brother Leo, that

it consisted in that God, in consequence of the merits of the Saint,

had deferred punishing the country by famine, to give sinners time to

be converted; and, as they did not avail themselves of it, after his

death, this scourge fell on the land, and was followed by a great

mortality.

Towards the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin, he retired

into the most secret part of the mountains, where his companions built

for him a small and unpretentious cell. He remained there with Leo,

having forbidden the others to return to him till the Feast of St.

Michael, and on no account to permit any persons whomsoever to have

access to him. It was then the time of the fast which he prescribed

for himself, in honor of the archangel; one of the nine periods of

fasting he observed during the year, which will be noticed elsewhere.

Proposing to fast this year more rigorously than in the preceding

years, he directed Brother Leo to bring him nothing but bread and water

once a day, and that, towards evening, and place it at the threshold

of his cell. "And when you come to me for Matins," he added, "don't

come into the cell, but only say in a loud voice, 'Domine, labia mea

aperies;' and if I answer, 'Et os meum annuntiabit laudem tuam,' you

will come in, otherwise you will go back." His pious companion, who

had nothing more at heart than to obey him, and be useful to him,

complied minutely with all he said; but he was often obliged to return

in the night, because the holy man was in ecstasy, and did not hear

him.

The reward of his solicitude was to be freed from a mental agitation,

which he had found very troublesome; although it was not a temptation

of the flesh, he nevertheless was ashamed of it, and did not dare make

his Father acquainted with it; he only wished to have something written

by him, which he thought would enable him to overcome the temptation,

or at least enable him to bear it with less difficulty. The Father,

knowing by revelation the state of his mind and his wish, desired him

to bring him paper and ink, and he put on the top of the paper, in

large characters, the letter "T," after which he wrote some praises

of God, with his blessing: "May the Lord bless you and take you into

His keeping, may He show you His countenance, and take pity on you,

may He turn His eyes towards you, and give you His peace. May God bless

Brother Leo." "Take this paper," he said, "and keep it carefully all

your life." Leo had no sooner received it than his temptation left

him; he preserved it carefully till his death, knowing the virtue that

was attached to it. This writing is still extant at Assisi, in the

sanctuary of the Church of St. Francis, and God has permitted it to

be frequently used for the cure of diseases. St. Bonaventure says that,

in his days, it had been the means by which several miracles were

effected.

Francis experienced on Mount Alvernia, what had occurred to St. Anthony

in the Desert of Thebais: after having been the means of freeing others

from the attacks of the devil, he was exposed to them himself. The

subtle spirit often suggested evil thoughts to him. He placed horrid

spectres before him, and he even visibly struck him severe blows. Once

in a very narrow path, and on the edge of a deep precipice, he appeared

to him in a hideous figure, and threw himself upon him to cast him

down; as there was nothing by which he could support himself, Francis

placed his two hands on the rock, which was very hard and slippery,

and they sank into it, as if it had been soft wax, and this preserved

him from falling. An angel appeared to him to put away his fright, and

to console him, causing him to hear celestial music, the sweetness of

which in so far suspended the powers of his soul, that it seemed to

him that his soul would have been separated from his body, had the

music lasted much longer.

He resumed his prayer in which he returned thanks for having escaped

the danger, and for the consolation he had received; then he set about

considering what might be the will of God. He was not, as St.

Bonaventure remarks, like to those inquisitive minds, who rashly

endeavor to scrutinize the ways of God, and who are overwhelmed with

His glory; but as a faithful and prudent servant, he endeavored to

discover the intention of his Master, only from the anxiety he felt

to conform himself to it in all things. A divine impression induced

him to think that, if he opened the Book of the Gospel, he would learn

from Jesus Christ what in him and for him would be most agreeable to

God. Having, therefore, again prayed with great fervor, he told Brother

Leo to take the New Testament from the altar, and open it; Leo opened

it three times in honor of the most Holy Trinity, and, each time, he

opened it at the Passion of our Blessed Lord. Francis, who was filled

with the Spirit of God, understood from this, that, as he had imitated

Jesus Christ in the actions of His life, he must now conform himself

to His sufferings, and in the pains of His Passion.

Although his body was greatly weakened by the austerities he practised,

by which he incessantly carried the cross of the Son of God, he was

not alarmed at the idea of having new sufferings to endure; on the

contrary, he put on fresh courage for martyrdom, in which, he thought,

conformity to the Passion of Jesus Christ consists--hence the pious

wish he had three times entertained of exposing himself to it. For the

love he had for the good Jesus, remarks St. Bonaventure, was so lively,

that the following words of the Canticles seemed to be applied to him:

"His lamps are lamps of fire and flame." The charity which inflamed

his heart was so ardent and forcible, that all the waters of

tribulation, and all the fury of persecution would have been unable

to extinguish it. It is in this sense that St. Paul said: "Who shall

separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation? or distress?

or famine? or nakedness? or danger? or persecution? or the sword?"

Such is the exalted love which Christians should have for God, if they

desire to love Him eternally; their hearts must be ready and willing

to make every sacrifice, and to suffer everything in order to preserve

this divine love.

Some days after the opening of the book of the Gospel, Leo had come

at midnight to say aloud, at the door of Francis' cell, "Domine labia

mea aperies," according to the order he had received; and receiving

no reply, he had the curiosity to advance a step further, and to look

through the chinks of the door, to see what was going on. He saw the

cell entirely illuminated, and a bright ray of light come from heaven,

and rest upon the head of the Saint; he heard voices which made

questions and answers; and he remarked that Francis, who was prostrate,

often repeated these words: "Who art Thou, O my God, and my dear Lord?

and whom and I? a worm, and Thy unworthy servant." He also saw him put

his hand out three times into his bosom, and each time stretch it out

to the flame.

The light disappeared, the conversation ceased, and Leo wished to

retire quickly; but the Father heard him, and rebuked him severely for

having watched him, and thus seen what ought to have been secret. Leo

asked pardon, and having obtained it, humbly entreated his master to

explain to him, for the greater glory of God, the things he had seen,

which Francis did in these terms:--

"God manifested Himself to me in the flame which you saw; He explained

many mysteries to me, by His infinite goodness, and He communicated

to me an immense knowledge of Himself, and I was so overpowered with

admiration, that I exclaimed: 'Who art Thou, Lord, and who am I?' For

nothing has tended more to my knowledge of what I am, than the

contemplation of the infinite and incomprehensible abyss of the

perfections of God, although from afar, and under obscure veils.

"The Lord then having condescended to disclose to me, as much as I am

capable of knowing of His infinite greatness, I could not avoid making

this reflection; that it is certain that every creature is a mere

nonentity before God. While I was thus meditating, it was His pleasure

to direct that, for all the good He had done me, I should make Him

some offering; I replied that my poverty was so great, that except the

poor habit which I wore, I had nothing in the world but my body and

my soul, which I had long since dedicated to Him. The Lord then urged

me to offer Him what was in my bosom, and I was surprised to find there

a beautiful piece of gold, which I immediately offered to Him; I found

three pieces successively, which I presented to Him in the same manner;

it was when you saw me extend my hand in the flame. I gave thanks to

God for His many benefits, and for the means He put in my power to

make Him some acknowledgment. He gave me to understand that the three

pieces of gold, which were highly agreeable to Him, represented the

three modes of life which it had been His will that I should institute,

and also the three vows of poverty, obedience, and chastity."

When he said that nothing had tended so much to the knowledge of what

he was, as the contemplation of the infinite perfections of God, he

well knew that the best mode to attain the knowledge of God is to know

one's self, as St. Augustine and St. Bernard teach us; that is to say,

that in order to our obtaining peculiar lights which open to us the

grandeur of God, it is necessary to be thoroughly impressed with our

own vileness, be sensible of our misery, and annihilate ourselves,

because the Divine Majesty only communicates itself to the humble. But

St. Francis proposed to himself to explain that, when it pleases God

to manifest Himself in some manner to a soul which is duly sensible

of its nothingness, it is better impressed with its own nothingness,

by the disproportion it sees between the Sovereign Being and His

creature, which discovers to it a thousand imperfections which it was

not previously aware of, as a ray of the sun penetrating into a room,

discovers a multitude of atoms of which we were previously unaware.

We may also form to ourselves an idea of this by our knowledge of human

ignorance; an ignorant man is less sensible of his ignorance and

sometimes he is not at all aware of it; he thinks he knows everything;

but a very learned man knows that he is ignorant of an infinity of

things, and finds his mind very confined. So also souls which are

interiorly enlightened as to the greatness of the Divinity, are more

perfectly aware of their own nothingness, and are more humble than

those who have not similar views. The mode adopted by the former is

to dive into his own nothingness by the light of faith, to humble

himself continually, in order to attain to a more exalted idea of the

greatness of God and to repeat frequently this prayer of St. Augustine:

"O God, who art always the same! may I know myself, may I know Thee."

The self-knowledge which St. Francis possessed in such perfection,

prepared him sufficiently for the signal favor which God proposed to

confer upon him, according to the principle of St. Augustine, that

deep foundations are requisite for a building of great height.

About the Festival of the Exaltation of the Cross, which is on the

fourteenth of September (it is believed that it was on the eve), an

angel appeared to him and gave him notice as he afterwards communicated

to some of his companions, to prepare himself for all that God would

do for him. "I am prepared for everything," he replied, "and I shall

not in any way oppose His holy will, provided he condescends to assist

me with His grace. Although I am a useless man, and unworthy that God

should cast a thought on me, nevertheless, as I am His servant, I beg

He may act by me, according to His good pleasure."

This generous concurrence, which had martyrdom in its view, was the

last disposition which the Almighty required previous to giving to

Francis the peculiar and signal prerogative of the stigmata, that is

to say, previous to imprinting on his body the five wounds of our

Saviour Jesus Christ. We are about to put on record this marvellous

event as nearly as possible in the very words of St. Bonaventure, which

we have extracted from his two legends. He does not name the precise

day, but Wading assigns good reasons for thinking it occurred on the

Festival of the Exaltation of the Cross.

"Francis, the servant and truly faithful minister of Jesus Christ,

being one morning in prayer on one side of the Mountain of Alvernia,

elevating himself to God by the seraphic fervor of his desires and by

the motives of tender and affectionate compassion, transforming himself

into Him who, by the excess of His charity, chose to be crucified for

us; he saw, as it were, a seraph, having six brilliant wings, and all

on fire, descending towards him from the height of heaven. This seraph

came with a most rapid flight to a spot in the air, near to where the

Saint was, and then was seen between his wings the figure of a crucified

man, who had his hands and feet extended and fastened to a cross. His

wings were so arranged that he had two of them on his head, two were

stretched out to fly with, and he covered his whole body with the two

others.

"At the sight of such an object, Francis was extraordinarily surprised;

joy, mingled with grief and sorrow, spread over his soul; the presence

of Jesus Christ, who manifested himself to him under the figure of a

seraph in so marvellous a mariner, and with such familiarity, and by

whom he found himself considered so favorably, caused in him an excess

of pleasure; but the sorrowful spectacle of His crucifixion filled him

with compassion, and his soul felt as if it was pierced through with

a sword. Above all, he admired with deep concern that the infirmity

of His sufferings should appear under the figure of a seraph, well

knowing that this does not agree with His state of immortality; and

he could not comprehend the intention of the vision, when our Lord,

who appeared outwardly, communicated to him interiorly, as to His

friend, that He had been placed before him in order to let him know

that it was not by the martyrdom of the flesh, but by the inflammation

of the soul, that he was to be wholly transformed into a perfect

resemblance to Jesus Christ crucified.

"The vision vanished, after having had a secret and familiar conference

with him, leaving his soul filled with seraphic ardor, and imprinting

on his body a figure similar to that of the crucifix, as if his flesh,

like softened wax, had received the impression of the letters of a

seal. For the marks of the nails immediately began to show themselves

on his hands and feet, such as he had seen them on the figure of the

crucified man. His feet and hands were seen to be perforated by nails

in their middle; the heads of the nails, round and black, were on the

inside of the hands, and on the upper parts of the feet; the points,

which were rather long, and which came out on the opposite sides, were

turned and raised above the flesh, from which they came out. There

was, likewise, on his right side a red wound, as if it had been pierced

with a lance, and from this wound there often oozed a sacred blood,

which soaked his tunic, and anything he wore round his body."

This is the new prodigy which Jesus Christ chose to exhibit in favor

of Francis, in order to render him more like to himself. He marked him

and ornamented him with His own wounds, by a singular and glorious

prerogative which had never, previously, been conceded to any one, and

which justly excites the admiration of the Christian world. St.

Bonaventure is of opinion that all human encomium falls short of what

it deserves. In fact, in the midst of all the marvels which we find

in the life of St. Francis, we are compelled to admit that this is the

one which, without any exaggeration, may be termed incomparable. What

can there be so beautiful as to be visibly clothed with Jesus Christ,

to bear on the body the lively resemblance of those wounds which are

the price of our redemption, the source of life, and the pledge of

salvation? What interior conformity must the Servant have had with his

Master, to have deserved to have so marked a one exteriorly, for, no

doubt, the one was in proportion to the other! This faithful Servant

having embraced the cross from the very commencement of his conversion,

he carried it in his heart, in his mind, in his body, and in all his

senses; all his love, all his desires, were centred in the cross, it

was the standard of his militia. Therefore did Jesus Christ, whose

goodness appears with magnificence towards those who love Him, after

having honored the zeal of Francis by various apparitions in His

crucified state, choose, as a crowning of all His favors, that he

should be himself crucified, in order that, as the love of the cross

constituted his merit before God, the glory of being so miraculously

fastened to it, should render him admirable in the sight of mankind.

Such was the sort of torment which God reserved for him in order to

satisfy the extreme desire he had to suffer martyrdom, on which St.

Bonaventure exclaims: "O truly fortunate man, whose flesh not having

been tortured by the racks of a tyrant, has nevertheless, borne the

impress of the Lamb that was slain! O fortunate soul, thou hast not

lost the palm of martyrdom, and yet thou art not separated from the

body by the sword of the persecutor!" Must we not also admit that the

impression of the five wounds of our Savior Jesus Christ on his body

was a true martyrdom--a precious martyrdom; rigorous in one sense, and

the more so, as it was not the consequence of the cruelty of

executioners, but was owing to the darts of divine love, and to the

very influence of the Son of God, the operation of which is most

powerful; sweet and delicious in another sense, and the more so, as

it was the effect of a most affectionate communication, and brought

about more intimate relations? Out Savior, thus, in some degree,

represented in His creature the situation in which He had been on the

cross, enjoying sovereign beatitude, while He suffered all the pains

and violence of the execution.

It was in all probability after this favor of the stigmata, that Francis

composed the two Italian canticles which are found amongst his works.

In the first, the burden of which is, "In foco l'amor mi mise, in foco

l'amor mi mise," he describes very practically, with figurative and

very lively expressions, the struggle he had with divine love, and the

attacks he had himself made on that love, the wounds which he received,

the flames by which his heart was kindled, and the state of languor

and faintness to which he found himself reduced, and, finally, the

strength, with a tranquillity of feeling exceedingly refreshing, which

Jesus Christ had imparted to him. In the second, which is much longer

than the first, he describes the strength, elevation, and tenderness,

the vehemence of the divine love in his heart; he enters into

conversation with Jesus Christ, who answers him; and this love

constantly increasing, he declares that he can resist no longer, that

he consents to everything, and that he wishes no other relief than to

die of love.

St. Theresa, speaking of her situation at prayer, in which she often

found herself, as it were, intoxicated with the love of God, and quite

beside herself, said: "I know a person who, without being a poet,

sometimes made very good extempore verses in spiritual canticles, which

expressed beautifully her sufferings. It was not from her mind that

they originated; but, by order of the glory so delicious a suffering

caused her; she laid her complaint in this manner before God. She would

have wished to tear herself to pieces to show the pleasure she

experienced in this delightful pain." These spiritual and divine

emotions are neither known nor relished by profane minds and hearts,

who only learn from their own corruption, and from the pestiferous

books which encourage it, the extravagances and transports of criminal

love; but pure minds, who know what it is to love God, and to be loved

by Him, are not astonished at the effects which this holy reciprocated

love produced in a St. Francis, in a St. Theresa, and in many others.

Neither is it surprising that the saints who are full of the thoughts

of God, should have had recourse to poetry to express the feelings of

their hearts, since the sacred writers, inspired by the Spirit of God,

have composed many of the sacred books in poetry; this also is practised

by the universal Church in her Divine Office.

The precious wounds which Francis had received, were a subject of great

embarrassment to him; for, in the first place, he wished to conceal

them wholly, well knowing that it is "proper to conceal the secrets

of the king," as the angel said to Tobit; and, in the second place,

he saw that the wounds were too conspicuous to remain long hidden from

those of his companions who had familiar intercourse with him. His

hesitation was, whether he should tell them what had occurred, in

confidence, or whether he should be silent on the subject, for fear

of making known the secrets of the Lord. He called some of them to him

and laid before them his difficulty in general terms, and solicited

their advice. Brother Illuminatus, he from whom he had received such

excellent advice in the camp before Damietta, opining, from the look

of astonishment which he remarked in him, that he had seen something

wonderful, said: "Brother, you ought to know that it is not only for

your own edification, but for that of others also, that God sometimes

discovers his secrets to you, for which reason you should be fearful

of being reprimanded for having hidden the talent, unless you make

known what is to be of service to many."

Francis was struck with this advice, and although on other occasions

he was in the habit of saying with Isaiah, "My secret is to myself,"

he communicated to them all what had passed in the apparition, but

always with great fear; adding, that He who had appeared to him, had

communicated things to him which, while he lived, he never would

disclose to any one. We must believe, as St. Bonaventure remarks, that

the seraph whom he saw attached to the cross in so wonderful a manner,

or rather, Jesus Christ Himself in the appearance of a seraph, had

said to him, as he had to St. Paul, "Secret words, which it is not

granted to man to utter;" either because there are no words in which

they can be expressed, or, as a respected author thinks, because there

are no souls sufficiently disengaged from sensible objects, and

sufficiently pure, to understand them.

The confidence which Francis had reposed in his companions, did not

prevent his taking every precaution possible to hide, as much as it

was in his power, the sacred marks with which the King of kings had

secretly favored him. From that time forward, he kept his hands covered,

so that the nails should not be seen, and he wore slippers, which

covered those of his feet. Wading saw in the Monastery of the Poor

Clares at Assisi, the sort of slippers which St. Clare made for her

spiritual Father, so neatly contrived that the upper part covered the

heads of the nails, and, the underneath being somewhat raised, the

points did not prevent his walking; for these miraculous nails did not

take from him the use of his hands and feet, although it was painful

to him to use them.

But all the precautions which his humility had suggested, became

useless; it is God's providence to reveal, for His greater glory, the

wonderful things which He does. The Lord Himself, who had secretly

marked on Francis the impressions of His Passion, by their means worked

miracles, which manifestly disclosed their hidden and marvellous virtue.

Moreover, the Saintly Man could not prevent his wounds from being seen

and touched by persons whose veracity cannot be called in question,

and who rendered public testimony thereto; besides which, after his

death, all the inhabitants of Assisi saw, touched, and kissed them.

The Sovereign Pontiffs of those days were so convinced of this admirable

event, that they issued bulls to exalt it by their praise, and to

repress by their authority those who refused credence to the fact,

because they had not seen it with their own eyes. Pope Alexander IV

certified it, as having been an eye-witness to it, in a sermon and in

a bull; and St. Bonaventure says that the proofs then collected made

it so certain, that they were sufficient to dispel every shade of

doubt. This degree of certainty is still further enhanced and rendered

more respectable, since Popes Benedict XI, Sixtus IV, and Sixtus V

have consecrated and extolled the impression of the stigmata on the

body of St. Francis, by having instituted a particular festival in

their honor, which is found in the Roman Martyrology, on the 17th of

September, and which is kept in the universal Church.

The forty days which Francis had resolved to pass in solitude and

fasting having terminated on Michaelmas Day, this new man, whom perfect

love had transformed by a lively resemblance into Him whom he loved,

descended from the mountain, carrying with him the image of Jesus

Christ crucified, not modelled by the hand of a workman on wood or

stone, but stamped on his very flesh by the finger of the living God

Himself, as St. Bonaventure expresses it. He became more partial than

ever to Mount Alverno, where he had received this sacred image, and

recommended to his brethren to cherish great respect for this holy

place.

As he descended the mountain, he met a number of the country people

who had already heard of the marvellous occurrence; it is probable

that God had informed the people of it by some extraordinary

manifestation. At the time when it occurred, they saw at break of day

the mountain illuminated by a most brilliant light, and what they

heard, informed them of the reason. They wished to kiss his hands; but

they were tied round with bandages, and he only offered them the tips

of his fingers.

In a village near Arezzo, they brought him a child of about eight years

of age, who had been dropsical for four years, whom he cured

instantaneously by touching him. He went afterwards to Montaigne, where

Count Albert, the lord of that place, who was his good friend, and at

whose house he often took his bed, received him with great pleasure.

But the count was distressed to hear him say that his infirmities would

not allow him to return there any more, and that the time of his death

was hastening on. To mitigate the grief of such melancholy tidings,

he entreated the Saint to leave him some memorial of their friendship;

to which Francis replied, that he had nothing to give but the miserable

habit he had on, but that he would willingly leave it him, provided

he could get another.

The change was soon effected; and it cannot be told how much Albert

prized the habit in which Francis had received the impression of the

precious pledges of our redemption. After the death of St. Francis he

enfolded this poor habit in rich stuffs of silk and gold, and he placed

it with great veneration on the altar of the church. The Lords of

Montaigne, from father to son, had it long in their possession; and

it, at length, came in the manner related by Wading, into the possession

of the Grand Dukes of Tuscany, who preserve it as a precious relic.

The great infirmities which the man of God suffered, obliged him to

take an ass to carry him from Montaigne to Mount Casal, through the

borough of Saint Sepulchre. When he reached the latter place, which

is very populous, the crowd surrounded him, touched him, and pressed

upon him, but he was insensible of it; he was as a dead person, in no

way aware what was doing, insomuch that, having proceeded a good way

from thence, and coming to himself, as one returned from the other

world, he inquired of some lepers at the door of the hospital, whether

they would soon get to Saint Sepulchre. His mind, contemplating, says

St. Bonaventure, with deep attention the brilliant lights of heaven,

had not noticed the difference of time, place, or persons; so penetrated

was he with divine communications, that he was not aware of what passed

around him.

On reaching Mount Casal, he learned that one of his religious was

suffering under an extraordinary disorder, which some considered to

be epilepsy, and others thought it a true case of possession by the

devil, for he had all the violent contortions of those possessed. The

Father, who was full of tender compassion for the suffering, was greatly

afflicted at seeing one of his children in this deplorable state, and

he sent him a mouthful of the bread he was eating, the virtue of which

was so great that, as soon as the sick man had swallowed it, he was

cured, and thenceforward had no relapse into the disorder.

From Mount Casal Francis went to Castello, and at the house where he

went to lodge, he was required to lend his aid to a female whom the

devil possessed, and compelled to talk without ceasing. The servant

of God with great prudence first sent one of his companions to see and

hear her, to examine into the case, to see whether it was really one

of possession, or whether the woman was not counterfeiting. She gnashed

her teeth,--she imitated the cry of an elephant with a dreadful

countenance; she affected to laugh when she saw the religious, and

ordered him to go away, saying that she did not care about him, but

she was afraid of him who hid himself. The Saint, who was in prayer,

having heard this, came into the room, where this woman was speaking

without any reserve, before many who were there. As soon as she saw

him, she fell on the ground, trembling. He reproached the demon with

his cruelty in thus torturing one of God's creatures, and ordered him

to leave her, which he did instantly, but with so much noise as

manifested his wrath. In the same town he cured a child who had an

ulcer, by making the sign of the cross on the dressing which covered

it. When the parents of the child took off the dressing, they saw

with surprise, in lieu of the ulcer, a fleshy excrescence, like a red

rose, which remained during the whole of the child's life, as a sensible

proof and memorial of the miracle which had been performed.

After an abode of a month at Castello, the man of God set out on his

return to Saint Mary of the Angels. Brother Leo, who accompanied him,

assures us, that during the whole way, and until his arrival in the

convent, he saw a beautiful golden cross, shining--with various colors,

preceding him, which stopped where he stopped, and advanced as he went

on. This pious companion understood from this, that God had chosen to

give to His Servant the consolation of seeing with the eyes of his

body that cross which he had always in his heart, and which he likewise

bore in his flesh by the wounds of Jesus Christ.

Nothing is more affecting than what St. Bonaventure says of the feelings

of St. Francis after having received the impression of these sacred

wounds. These are the words of the holy doctor:--

"Francis, being crucified with Jesus Christ in mind and body, not only

burned with the ardent love of a seraph, but he likewise participated

in the thirst for the salvation of souls which the Son of God felt on

the Cross. As he could not go, as he usually had done, into the towns

and villages, on account of the large nails he had on his feet, he had

himself carried thither, to animate every one, although he was in a

deplorable state of languor and half dead with his infirmities, to

carry the cross of our Saviour. He used to say to his brethren: 'Let

us now begin to serve the Lord our God, for up to this time we have

made but little progress.'"

"He was also ardently desirous of returning to his first practices

of humility,--to attend the lepers, and to bring his body into

subjection, as he had done in the first days of his conversion. Although

his limbs were enfeebled by his exertions and sufferings, that did not

prevent his hoping that, as his mind was yet vigorous and active, he

should still combat and be victorious over his enemy. Under the guidance

of Jesus Christ, he proposed to perform some extraordinary things; for

when love is the spur, which admits of no neglect nor slackness, it

urges to the undertaking of things of greater importance. His body was

in such unison with his mind, so submissive, so wholly obedient, that,

far from resisting, it was forward in some measure, and went as it

were of itself towards the attainment of the great elevation of sanctity

to which he aspired."

It being God's will that he should acquire the summit of merit, which

is only attained by great patience, He tried him by many sorts of

maladies, so grievous, that there was scarcely any part of his body

in which he did not suffer excruciating pains. These reduced him to

such a state, that he was scarcely more than skin and bone, almost all

his flesh was wasted away; but these sufferings he did not consider

as such, he denominated them his sisters, to show how much he cherished

them.

These words of Saint Francis to his brethren, "Let us begin to serve

the Lord our God, for until now we have made little progress," contain

one of the most important lessons of all spiritual life. The Wise Man

says of the knowledge of the works of God: "When a man hath done, then

he shall begin," St. Augustine applies this sentence to the obscurity

of the sacred writings, when he says that, the deeper they are searched,

the more hidden mysteries are found in them; and it is equally

applicable to Christian and religious perfection. It is an error

condemned by the Church to believe that a man is capable of attaining

in this life such a degree of perfection, as not to be able to increase

it; but it would be a deplorable illusion to make use of the language

condemned by Saint Bernard; "I have done enough, I will remain as I

am: neither become worse, nor better." The just man never says, "It

is enough;" he has always hunger and thirst after justice; as the

apostles, "He forgets the things that are behind, and stretches himself

to those that are before, to press towards the mark." To believe that

we have made progress is not to do so; not to strive to advance is to

go back, and to lose one's self. What instruction do we find here for

the most perfect, in the example of a saint who deems himself to have

made little progress in the service of God, and who wishes to begin

all afresh, at a time when he is found deserving to bear on his body

the wounds of Jesus Christ!

His disorders were only afflicting to Francis inasmuch as related to

the vast projects he unceasingly formed for the good of souls. He was

most grieved at the state of his eyes, which made his sight begin to

fail. Notwithstanding his other infirmities, whenever he could, he

mounted on an ass, and went about, preaching penance, announcing the

kingdom of God, and addressing these words to all his hearers: "Jesus

Christ, my Love, was crucified." He spoke with so much fervor, and

with such assiduity, visiting sometimes five or six towns in the course

of a single day, that it might be paid that God gave him, as to the

prophet, the agility of a deer. However, although in the person of St.

Francis the interior man was renewed from day to day, yet it necessarily

followed that the exterior man, borne down by so much, austerity and

fatigue, began rapidly to decay. The acute pains in his eyes, and the

tears he constantly shed, brought on blindness, besides it was

impossible for him to preach any longer, however desirous he was to

do so. Moreover, he would not have recourse to remedies, although his

brethren urged him to avail himself of them, because, being already

in heaven in mind and heart, he wished, as the Apostle had done, "to

have his conversation in heaven."

Brother Elias, vicar-general, who felt the loss which the death of his

holy founder would be to the Order, was most anxious to procure him

relief. His feelings also induced him to wish it; for, with all his

faults, he was tenderly attached to his father, and was as a mother

to him by the care he took of him: of this all the first writers of

the life of Saint Francis bear testimony. He used entreaties and

argument to induce him to have recourse to medicine for his disorders,

and quoted the following Scriptural texts: "The Most High hath created

medicines out of the earth, and a wise man will not abhor them." He

also on this occasion made use of the power he had received from the

Saint: he commanded him, on his obedience, not to resist his cure.

Cardinal Ugolino, Protector of the Order, urged him also to the same

effect, and warned him to be careful, lest there should be sin instead

of merit in neglecting to take proper care of himself.

The sick man yielded to the advice of his friends. He was removed to

a small and poor cell, very near the Convent of Saint Damian, that he

might be nearer to Clare and her sisterhood, who loved him as their

father, and who prepared the medicines for him. He remained there forty

days with the Brothers Masse, Ruffin, Leo, and Angelo of Rieti; but

the disorder of his eyes became so painful, that he could get no rest

night or day; when he endeavored to procure a little sleep, he was

prevented by a number of rats, which infested the hut, and ran over

his table and bed so daringly, that it was thought to be a stratagem

of the evil one.

Seeing himself overwhelmed by an accumulation of disorders, he made

the following prayer humbly to God: "My Lord and God, cast Thine eyes

upon me, and lend me Thine aid; grant me grace to bear with patience

all these ills and infirmities." A voice forthwith made him this answer:

"Francis, what price should be set upon that which shall obtain a

kingdom which is above all price? Know that the pains you suffer are

of greater value than all the riches of the world, and that you ought

not to be rid of them for all that is in the world, even though all

the mountains should be changed into pure gold, all its stones into

jewels, and all the waters of the sea into balsam." "Yes, Lord,"

exclaimed Francis, "it is thus that I prize the sufferings Thou sendest

me; for I know that it is Thy will that they should be in this world

the chastisements of my sins, in order to show me mercy in eternity."

"Rejoice, then," added the voice, "it is through the way in which you

are, that heaven is reached." At these words he rose up full of fervor;

and wishing that Clare, who was almost always ill, should benefit by

what he had just heard, he sent to her, and informed her of the tender

goodness of God to man, even in the dispositions of His Providence,

which have the appearance of being the most severe.

Men who are enlightened by the light of faith,--must they not be

convinced of these Christian truths: that the most perfect have some

sins to expiate; that the saints can only attain to heaven by suffering;

that the Kingdom of Heaven, which is invaluable, cannot be purchased

at too great a price; and that God never manifests His paternal regard

in our favor more evidently than when He afflicts us in this world

in order to show us His mercy in the next? What fruit might not be

gathered from sicknesses and other sufferings; what alleviations, what

consolations, and even what joy, might not be found, if these holy

truths were but reduced to practice, which unfortunately are only

viewed theoretically, and with little or no application!

Francis being one day at dinner, and beginning to eat, stopped suddenly,

and, with his eyes raised to heaven, exclaimed in a loud voice: "May

God be blessed, glorified, and exalted above all!" Then leaving the

room in an unusual manner, he threw himself on the ground, where he

remained motionless in ecstasy during a whole hour.

When he came to himself, one of the brethren whose name was Leonard,

who had witnessed what had passed, and had heard what he had exclaimed,

spoke to him of it, as if what he had done had been very unbecoming.

"My dear brother," said Francis, "I had great cause for what I did,

which I will communicate to you confidentially, upon condition that

you will tell no one of it during my lifetime. If a king promised to

give a kingdom to one of his subjects, would not that person have great

reason to rejoice? What, then, did I do that was unseemly,--I whom the

Almighty assured of His kingdom? I was so overpowered with joy, that

I could not control the emotions of my heart; you must excuse the

excess in the expressions of my satisfaction, whatever it may have

been, and however it may have seemed to transgress the rules of decorum.

But what I did is not enough, I will praise God still more; I will

unceasingly praise His holy name. I will sing hymns to His glory during

the remainder of my days."

After which he sat down, and after having reflected a little, he got

one of his companions to write an Italian canticle, which begins thus:

"Altissimo, Omnipotente, bon Signore; tue son le laude, la gloria,

l'onore, ed ogni benedizione," etc. "O God, most high, most powerful,

most good! to Thee belong praise, honor, glory, and every blessing:

these are solely to be referred to Thee; neither is any man worthy to

pronounce Thy holy name. Praise be to Thee, O Lord, my God! by all thy

creatures." He speaks of the sun as the most brilliant of all, of the

moon, the stars, the air, the wind, the clouds, the seasons, the water,

the fire, the earth and all that it contains; giving praise to God for

each of His creatures, whose beauties and properties He recites.

This canticle resembles that which was sung at Babylon, in the fiery

furnace, by the three young men who were thrown into it, for not having

adored the statue of Nebuchodonosor. They called upon all creatures,

inanimate and irrational, to praise God, as David had done before; and

St. Francis calls upon all to praise Him, because of His creatures.

This has the same result; for inanimate creatures, as St. Jerome

observes, only praise God by making Him known to men, and by placing

before them His magnificence. "When they are considered as His work,"

says St. Augustine, "we find in them numberless reasons for singing

hymns to His glory; and if His greatness is manifested in His glorious

works, He is not less great in those which are less so. Whatsoever God

has made, praises God; there is only sin, of which He is not the author,

which does not praise Him." It was Francis's desire that all his

brethren should learn his canticle, and recite it daily, and that

Brother Pacificus, the famous poet, of whom we have before spoken, and

who was then in France or in the Low Countries, should put it into

well-sounding verse. He called it the Canticle of the Sun, because of

the preeminence of that beautiful planet, in which, David says, God

seemed to have taken up His abode, in order to show Himself to us.

As his malady did not show symptoms of amelioration, Elias had him

removed from the Convent of St. Mary of the Angels to Foligno, in hopes

that change of air might be of service to him. And he was in fact

somewhat relieved by it; but God made known, by an extraordinary

revelation, that he would continue to suffer until death. Elias found

himself overpowered with sleep, and in his slumber he saw a venerable

old man, clothed in white, with pontifical ornaments, who told him

that Francis must prepare himself to suffer patiently for two years

more, after which, death would deliver him, and would cause him to

pass into perfect repose, free from all pain. He communicated this to

Francis, who said that the same thing had been communicated to him;

and then, filled with joy, not only on account of the eternal felicity

again promised him, but because the time was fixed when his soul was

to be released from the prison of his body, he added this further

couplet to his canticle: "Be Thou praised, my Lord, for death our

sister, from which no living man can escape," etc. "Blessed are they

who, at the hour of death, are found conformed to Thy holy will, for

they will not be overtaken by the second death. Woe to those who die

in mortal sin! May all creatures praise and bless God, obey Him and

serve Him with great humility!" If we are surprised to find St. Francis

call death our sister, we must bear in mind that the holy man, Job,

said to rottenness: "Thou art my father; and to the worms, you are my

mother and sister."

The whole of the year 1225, Francis passed in various illnesses and

in great sufferings. Towards autumn, Cardinal Ugolino and Brother Elias

induced him to be removed to Rieti, where there were able physicians

and surgeons who could attend to the state of his eyes. As soon as it

was known in the town, all the inhabitants met, and went to meet him;

but, in order to avoid all the honors preparing for him, he had himself

taken to St. Fabian, a village two miles from Rieti, where he lodged

at the cure's.

The Pope was at Rieti, with all his court, at that time: many of the

principal persons of the court, and even cardinals, came to St. Fabian

to visit the holy man. While they were in conversation with him, the

persons of their suite went into the cure's vineyard to eat grapes,

and they gathered so many that the vineyard was nearly stripped. The

cure was much displeased at this, and complained to St. Francis, who

asked him, how much he thought he had lost? "I usually," replied the

cure, "have made fourteen measures of wine, which were sufficient for

the consumption of my house." "I am sorry," said Francis, "that they

should have done you so much damage, but we must hope that God will

find a remedy for it, and I firmly believe He will, and that, from the

grapes which remain in your vineyard, He will give you fourteen measures

of wine and more." The cure saw this prophecy fulfilled, for he made

twenty measures from the few grapes which had been left. The magistrates

of Rieti caused, at a subsequent period, a convent to be built for the

Friars Minors on this spot; and the same Pope, Gregory IX, out of

respect for the Saint, chose to consecrate the church himself, in which

are still seen representations of the miracle.

After some days Francis could no longer avoid going to Rieti, where

the persons of the court received him with honors, which he gladly

would have dispensed with.--He lodged there with a pious citizen, named

Theobald, a Saracen, who had settled in the town.

The dejection of spirits which his sufferings had brought upon him,

made him desirous of having instrumental music to cheer him; "but,"

says St. Bonaventure, "decorum did not allow him to ask for it, and

it was God's pleasure that he should receive this agreeable consolation

by means of an angel. The mere sound, which was marvellously harmonious,

raised his mind so entirely to God, and filled his soul with so much

delight, that he thought himself in the enjoyment of the joys of the

other world. His intimate companions perceived it, and they frequently

observed that God gave him extraordinary consolations, for the effects

they produced on him were so manifest, that it was impossible for him

to disguise them, and then he admitted to them from whence they arose."

This shows that, if the saintly sufferer wished to hear some

instrumental music, it was in order to listen to it for the glory of

God, as St. Augustine observes was the case with David, and not for

any purely human gratification, nor to take any ordinary pleasure

therein, nor even for the assuagement of his violent sufferings.

It is true that harmonious sound will procure this relief; and without

referring to what ancient writers say on this head, without noticing

Saul, we know that there are feelings of the body and mind, in which

we experience what the wise man supposes to be a common occurrence,

"that music rejoices the heart." Man being born with a taste for

proportion, and finding himself full of concert and harmony, it is no

way surprising that the harmony and proportion of sounds should cause

strong and vivid impressions on him.

St. Francis, who may have been naturally more affected by music than

others, may also have reasonably wished for its solace, more from a

desire to prevent the depression of his spirits, than from the violence

of his sufferings, or from being deprived of its solace by a principle

of mortification. For he was too spiritual a man not to have us

convinced that his wish proceeded from a purer and more noble motive.

He desired to prevent his mind from being too greatly depressed, in

order to render himself more equal to interior operations, and to unite

himself more easily and more intimately to God--as the Prophet Eliseus,

who, having been greatly excited against the King of Israel, caused

a canticle of the temple to be sung to him, with a harp accompaniment,

in order to calm his irritated mind, and to prepare him for the lights

of the Lord, as to the knowledge of future events. St. Augustine also

observes, that, after his baptism, the chant of the hymns and psalms

sung in the church excited in his heart tender sentiments of piety,

and drew from his eyes floods of tears.

We may say: Music is a science given to men by the liberality of the

Creator, to represent to them the admirable harmony by which He governs

the world, in order to guide them by the channel of the senses, and

melody of sounds, to the knowledge and love of immutable truth. This

is also the true use of music, and it is only with this view that the

Church permits it in the Divine Service. That which is soft and

effeminate, which is calculated to excite the passions, by multitudes

of ambiguous expressions, (not the less dangerous for being so cloaked)

should be considered by Christians as an abuse the more deplorable,

as it has even been censured and condemned by the pagans.

All the skill of the physicians and surgeons of Rieti not having had

any effect towards the cure of their patient, he had himself taken to

his Convent of Fonte Colombo, where they were to continue their

remedies; and it was their opinion that a hot iron should be applied

above his ear, from which it was expected he would obtain relief. For

this reason his brethren urged him to give his consent, which he

willingly did, in hopes to recover his sight thereby, and then to

continue his exertions for the salvation of souls; and also because,

the operation being very painful, he would have an opportunity of

voluntary suffering.

When they were about to apply the red-hot iron, he could not avoid

feeling a natural sense of fear; in order to overcome it, he addressed

the fire as we should speak to a friend: "My brother," said he, "the

Most High has given you great beauty, and has made you most useful;

be favorable to me on this occasion. I entreat the great God who created

you, to temper your heat, so that I may be able to bear it." He then

made the sign of the cross on the instrument, and without any fear

presented himself to receive the impression. His companions, not having

courage to witness the operation, left the room. The physician and

surgeon remained alone with him, and the hot iron was pressed from

over his ear to his eyebrow, into his flesh.

After the operation, the brothers having returned, he said to them:

"Praise the Lord, for I assure you I neither felt the heat of the fire,

nor any pain." Then he reproached them mildly in these words: "Why did

you fly, you pusillanimous men, and of little faith? He who preserved

the three young men in the furnace of Babylon, could He not temper in

my favor the heat of my brother, the fire?" We shall see further what

an exalted principle it was which induced him to qualify all creatures

by the names of his brothers and sisters. He said to the physician:

"If the flesh is not sufficiently burnt, replace the hot iron." The

physician, struck with so much fortitude in so feeble a body, saw that

it was miraculous, and said to the religious: "I see truly to-day a

most wonderful occurrence."

St. Bonaventure, who relates this, makes the following observation:

That Francis having attained so high a degree of perfection, his body

was subject to his mind, and his mind to God; with admirable harmony

it followed from thence, by a peculiar disposition of Divine Providence,

that inanimate creatures which obey God, obeyed His servant also, and

forebore from hurting him, according to the words: "O Lord! the creature

being subject to Thee, as to its Creator, renovates its strength to

torment the wicked, and softens it to contribute to the good of those

who trust in Thee."

It is, moreover, remarkable that St. Francis feared when he saw the

red-hot iron,--he who had consented to have the remedy applied, because

it was severe, and who had offered, when in Egypt, to cast himself

into the fire to prove the truth of the Christian religion. It is thus

that God permits His saints to become sensible of their natural weakness

in trifling things, in order that they may be sensible that in greater

things all their strength depends upon His grace.

The disorder in the eyes of St. Francis was caused by the tears he

continually shed. His physician told him he ought to restrain them,

unless he wished to lose his entire sight; and this is the reply he

gave him: "My dear Brother Doctor, for the love of corporal sight,

which we enjoy in common with flies, we must not set aside for a single

instant the Divine illustrations; for the mind has not received the

favor on account of the body, it has been granted to the body on account

of the mind." He liked better, says St. Bonaventure, to lose corporal

sight than to check for a single moment that tender and affectionate

devotion which calls forth tears, by which the interior sight is

purified and rendered competent to see an infinitely pure God.

In order to show some gratitude to the physician for the trouble he

took in his regard, Francis one day desired the brethren, in his

presence, to take him to dine with them. They represented to him that

their poverty was such that they had nothing which was fit to place

before a person of his consideration, for this physician was in great

estimation, and very rich. "Men of little faith," replied the Saint,

"why have you these doubts? Why have you not considered more favorably

the merit of obedience? Go and take to the refectory our honorable

brother, the doctor." They took him, seeing that he would consent to

partake of their poor fare out of devotion, but, just as they were

sitting down to table, there was a ring at the bell; it was a woman,

who brought, in a basket, several dishes exceedingly well dressed,

which a lady, who lived at a country house, six miles off, sent to the

servant of God. He desired that these might be offered to the physician,

and that he might be told that the Lord took care of His own. The

doctor admired the hand of Providence, and said to the religious: "My

brethren, we do not sufficiently understand the holiness of this man;

and even you who live with him, have no conception of the secret virtue

with which his mind is replenished."

This physician was not less charitable than learned; he had great

pleasure in prescribing for this sick man, he frequently visited him,

and paid the expense of the medicines he required. God, who considered

as done to Himself what was done to His servant who could not repay

him, rewarded him in this world by a miracle worked in his favor.

He had laid out all his ready money in building a house which was only

just finished, when one of the principal walls was found to have a

large crack in it from the top to the bottom, which no human art could

make good. Full of faith and confidence in the merits of Francis, he

begged his companions to give him something which the holy man had

touched. After many entreaties they gave him some of his hair, which

he placed at night in the fissure in the wall. He came back in the

morning, and found the whole so completely closed, that it was not

only impossible to get back the hair, but it was no longer perceivable

that there had been any rent in the wall. The good offices which he

had manifested to a worn-out body prevented, says St. Bonaventure, the

ruin of the house he had just built.

Some days after, Francis was taken to Rieti, where the bishop lodged

him in his palace; they brought to the foot of his bed, upon a tressel,

one of the canons, who was dangerously ill; he had been a very worldly

man, who had lived a dissipated life, but who, struck with the fear

of approaching death, entreated the Saint to make the sign of the cross

upon him. "How," said Francis, "shall I make the sign of the cross on

you, who, without any fear of the judgments of God, have given yourself

up to the lusts of the flesh? I will do it, however, because of the

pious persons who have interceded in your favor. But, bear in mind

that you will suffer much greater ills, if, after your cure, you should

return to your vomit, for the sin of ingratitude and relapse makes the

last state of man worse than the first." He then made the sign of the

cross upon the sick man, who immediately arose, praised God, and

exclaimed, "I am healed." All the bystanders heard his bones crack,

as when dry sticks are broken. That unhappy man, however, did not

remain long without plunging again into vice; and one night, as he was

in bed at the house of a canon where he had supped, the roof of the

house fell in and crushed him, without hurting any one else.

"It was," says the same holy doctor, "by a just judgment of God; for

the sin of ingratitude is a contempt of the graces of God, for which

we ought to be most thankful; and the sins into which we again fall

after repentance, displease Him more than any others. Will it never

be understood that, in the diseases of the soul, as in those of the

body, there is nothing so dangerous as a relapse?"

The pains felt by Francis were in some degree assuaged, his sight was

restored, and he made use of this interval to have himself taken into

several parts of Umbria, of the Kingdom of Naples, and of the adjacent

provinces, in order to work for the salvation of souls. At Penna, a

young religious who was naturally good, and of great promise, came to

ask his pardon for having left the Order, which he had only done at

the instigation of the evil spirit, who persuaded him that by living

privately, he could better sanctify himself. As soon as the Saint saw

him, he fled to his cell, and shut the door; when he came out again,

his companions expressed their surprise at what he had done: "Do not

be astonished," he said, "at my having fled; I saw on this young man

a frightful demon, who was endeavoring to throw him down a precipice,

and I acknowledge to you that I could not bear his presence. I have

prayed as earnestly as I could for the deliverance of this poor brother

from such a seducer, and God has heard my prayer." Then, having sent

for him, and telling him what he had seen, he exhorted him to be on

his guard against the snares of the devil, and not to separate himself

again from his brethren: "For, if you do otherwise," he added, "you

will not fail to fall into the precipice from which the mercy of God

has preserved you." The docile and faithful religious passed the

remainder of his days in great piety, and in the exercises of a regular

life.

At Calano, a town of the Duchy of Marsi, in the farther Abruzzo, where

Francis was come to preach, a common soldier pressed him so earnestly

to come and dine with him, that he could make no excuse. He therefore

went, with one companion, who was a priest,--a circumstance which was

very serviceable. The poor family of the soldier having received them

with great joy, the Saint began to pray, as was his custom, and he had

his eyes constantly raised to heaven. He then said to the soldier,

privately, "My brother and my host, you see I have acceded to your

request in coming to dine with you. Now, follow my advice, and make

haste; for it is not here, but elsewhere, that you will dine. Confess

your sins with as much exactness and sorrow as you can; the Lord will

reward you for having received His poor ones with such good religious

intentions." The soldier, placing confidence in what the servant of

God said to him, made his confession to Francis' companion, regulated

his temporal affairs, and prepared himself, as well as he could, for

death. When that was done, he sat down with the others at table, and

a minute afterwards he expired suddenly. Then were the words of the

Gospel fulfilled, that he who should receive a prophet as a prophet,

that is to say, not seeing in him any other qualification, receives

also the reward of the prophet, inasmuch as the prediction of Francis

enabled him to fortify himself by penance against death, which he did

not think to be so near at hand.

It was probably in this apostolic tour that the Servant of God performed

a miracle on the person of St. Bonaventure, who, under the dispositions

of Divine Providence; was to become one of the most illustrious of his

children. He was born at Bagnarea in Tuscany, a town belonging to the

Ecclesiastical States, in the year 1221, and he was baptized by the

name of John. His father, John Fidenza, and Ritella, his mother, joined

to the nobility of their birth a large fund of piety. In his infancy

he was seized with a mortal illness, of which he was cured by St.

Francis, which was one of the reasons why he determined to write his

Life. "I should fear," he says in his preface to his Legend, "that I

should be accused of criminal ingratitude if I neglected to publish

the praises of him, to whom I acknowledge that I owe the life of my

body and my soul."

It is reported, with the circumstances which he himself may have told,

and the memory of which may have been preserved by tradition, that his

mother, having no further hopes of saving him by means of medicaments,

came and presented him to St. Francis, who was renowned in Italy, at

that time, for the splendor of his sanctity and his miracles; she

implored the aid of his prayers, and made a vow that, if the child was

saved, she would give him to his Order. The holy man consoled the

afflicted mother, and obtained from God the cure of her son, to the

astonishment of the physicians, who had deemed his disorder incurable.

At the sight of this miraculous cure, he said, in the Italian language:

"O buona ventura!" "How fortunate!" from whence came the name of

Bonaventure; and finally, he foretold that the child would become a

great light in the Church of God, and that through him his Order would

receive great increase of sanctity.

In the year 1243, being then twenty-two years old, he proposed to

fulfil his mother's vow, and take the habit of a Friar Minor. This is

not the place to narrate his illustrious actions, but we must notice

two remarkable circumstances which are connected with St. Francis.

The first is, that, as this blessed Patriarch bears the name of

Seraphic, because of the Divine love with which he was inflamed, when

Jesus Christ, under the figure of a seraph, imprinted on him the sacred

stigmata, so St. Bonaventure has been called the Seraphic Doctor,

"because his whole doctrine, as well as his whole life, breathes the

fire of charity." It is a torch which burns and illuminates; it

influences while instructing; whatever truths he expounds, he brings

back all to God by love, and, to define him properly, he should be

styled the Seraphic and Cherubic Doctor. Tis thus that Gerson, the

Chancellor of the University of Paris, expresses himself.

"If I am asked," he continues, "who amongst the doctors seems to me

the best calculated to instruct, I answer, without detracting from any

other, it is Bonaventure, because he is sure, solid, exact, and devout,

at one and the same time; and separating from his theology all questions

foreign from the purpose, all superfluous dialectic, and that obscurity

of terms with which so many others load their works, he turns into

piety all the beautiful lights he gives to the mind. In a word, there

is not a doctrine more mild, more salutary, more sublime, than his;

and in devotion alone can neglect it. As to me," he adds, "having

recommenced studying it since I am grown old, the more I advance the

more I am confounded, and I say to myself:

"What is the use of so much talking, and so much writing? Here is a

doctrine which is quite sufficient of itself, and it is only necessary

to transcribe and to spread it into facts.'"--Such is the opinion of

the celebrated Gerson as to St. Bonaventure, before he was canonized,

declared a Doctor of the Church, and honored by the title of Seraphic,

which he shares with his blessed Father. The Abbot Trithemius, of the

Order of St. Benedict, passes a similar eulogium on him, to which the

Sovereign Pontiffs, Sixtus IV. and Sixtus V., have added the crowning

point in their bulls, the one for his canonization, the other for his

doctorship.

The second particularity of his life, which had relation to St. Francis,

is, that he gloriously verified his prediction as to the fruits of

sanctity which he was to bring to the Order. Having been elected general

when he was five and thirty years of age, in consequence of his great

talents and eminent virtues, he governed his brethren for eighteen

years with so much zeal, light, mildness, and wisdom, that he perfectly

made amends for the evil which the relaxation of some and the perplexity

of others had occasioned. He prepared such judicious regulations for

the form of government, for the recital of the Divine Office, for the

regularity of discipline, that they have served as a basis and

foundation for all the statutes which have since been introduced into

the Order.

He decided on the difficulties which occurred as to the observation

of the rules, and this with so much precision, that, in order to follow

them exactly and conscientiously, without scruple, it is only necessary

to practise what he has clearly laid down. He composed spiritual

treatises, so elevated, so instructive, and so affecting, that they

are alone sufficient to guide the Friars Minors, or all other persons

of piety, to the sublimest perfection. He answered, with so much

strength and judgment, the philosophers of his day, who attacked the

Mendicant Orders, despite of the Sovereign Pontiffs, by whom they were

approved, that his works, with those of the Angelic Doctor, St. Thomas

Aquinas, will ever cover with confusion whosoever may attempt to renew

the former disputes on this head.

The exertions which St. Francis made, during a short interval from

pain, for the salvation of souls, in an unfavorable season of the year,

increased all his maladies. His legs became inflamed, and he was obliged

to lie by in a small hamlet near Nocera. When this was known at Assisi,

the fear they had lest he should die on the way, and lest his country

should be deprived of his precious remains, induced the authorities

to send means to bring him into town.

This deputation, returning with the patient, arrived at the dinner

hour in the Village of Sarthiano, where they found nothing to be

purchased for their meal, although they offered a double price for

every thing they wanted. Upon their complaining of this, Francis said:

"You have not found anything, because you have had greater confidence

in your flies than in your Lord" (he called their money flies); "but

return to the houses where you have been, and ask them humbly for alms,

offering to pray to God for them in payment. Don't think, under false

impressions, that there is anything mean or shameful in this, for,

since sin came into the world, all the good which God so liberally

bestows on man, on the just, and on sinners, on the worthy and unworthy,

is done by means of alms, and He is the chief almsgiver." These men

overcame their bashfulness, and went cheerfully to beg for the love

of God, and got whatever they wanted, although they had not been able

to obtain it for money; God having so touched the hearts of the

inhabitants, that, in giving what they had, they even offered

spontaneously every service.

The Bishop of Assisi had the man of God brought to his palace, and

kept him there till the spring of the year 1226, providing him with

everything he required, with great affection. One day, when his stomach

loathed everything, he expressed a wish for a particular sort of fish,

which the severity of the winter made it difficult to procure, but,

at the very moment, a messenger sent by Brother Gerald, the guardian

of the convent of Rieti, brought three large fishes of this species,

with certain sauces which were calculated to sharpen the appetite and

strengthen the patient. Thus it is that it sometimes pleases the Lord

to give sensible relief to His friends who have neglected their health

and crucified their flesh for His sake.

The children of the holy patriarch, and particularly Elias, his vicar-

general, who saw that there was no amelioration in the state of his

health, but that, on the contrary, his disorders increased with the

renewal of the year, entreated him to allow himself to be removed to

Sienna, where the mild climate and the excellence of the physicians

might afford him some relief, if there were no hopes of a cure. And

they urged this so energetically, that, as he was mild and obliging,

he consented to be taken thither at the beginning of April. But all

his ills continued, and the disorder of his eyes was greatly increased.

A red-hot iron was again applied to both sides of his head, from the

ears to the eyebrows, but this had no good effect, though he suffered

no pain from it, God having renewed the miracle He had before performed

in his favor.

So the mild air of Sienna, and the kind care of the physicians, did

not prevent the sufferings of Francis from continuing and increasing.

During one night he vomited so much blood, and he was to such a degree

weakened from it, that it was thought he was about to expire. His

children, cast down and in tears, came to him, like the disciples of

St. Martin, when he was on the point of death, and said to him,

sobbing:--

"Dear Father and Master, we are greatly distressed to see you suffer

so intensely, but we are likewise afflicted for ourselves. After all

your labors you are about to go to the enjoyment of eternal repose,

but we shall remain without our Father and Pastor, you have begotten

us in Jesus Christ by the doctrine of the Gospel, and we are scarcely

born before we lose you. Who will instruct us? Who will console us?

You have been everything to us, your presence has been our happiness.

To whom do you consign us, in the desolate state in which we are? Alas!

we foresee that after your departure ravenous wolves will invade your

flock. Leave us, at least, something of yours to remind us of your

instructions, in order that we may follow them when you are no more;

and give us your blessing, which may be our shield against our enemies."

The holy patriarch, casting his eyes affectionately on his children,

called out to Brother Benedict of Piratro, who was his infirmarian,

and who, during his illness, said Mass in his room: "Priest of God,"

said he, "commit to writing the blessing I give to all my brethren,

as well to those who are now in the Order, as to those who shall embrace

it to the end of the world. As my great sufferings and extreme weakness

prevent me from speaking, here are in a few words my intentions and

last wishes: 'May all the brethren love each other as I have loved

them, and as I now love them. May they always cherish and adhere to

poverty, which is my lady and my mistress; and never let them cease

from being submissive and faithfully attached to the prelates and all

the clergy. May the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost bless and protect them!

Amen.'"

His sufferings being in some degree modified, and his weakness no

longer so intense, his zeal induced him to think of instructing and

exhorting the absent, for, by the example of the Son of God, he loved

his own even to the last.

As soon as Brother Elias, the vicar-general, learnt the extreme danger

in which the Father was, he came in great haste to Sienna, and proposed

to him to be removed to the convent of Celles, near Cortona. Francis

was very glad to see him, and was quite willing to be removed to Celles,

where he was attended with great care by the relations and friends of

Elias, who were of that country. But, as he became swollen, and the

sufferings of his stomach and liver were greatly increased, he requested

to be taken to Assisi; which the vicar-general had done with all the

care and precaution possible. His return was a source of extraordinary

gratification to the inhabitants, who had been fearful of being deprived

of so great a treasure had he died elsewhere. They went in crowds to

meet him, with great expressions of pleasure, and the bishop received

him again into his palace.

Before we put on record the last acts and precious death of St. Francis,

it will be proper to notice the state in which his Order was at that

time. There were some of his brethren in all parts of the known world.

In Europe, they filled all Italy. Greece furnished them a province.

The esteem of the great, and the love of the people, procured for them,

daily, new houses in Spain, Portugal, France, the Low Countries, and

England. They had spread into Scotland, and began to be received in

Ireland. Brother Albert, of Pisa, had sent missioners into Upper and

Lower Germany, with great success. They had penetrated into Poland,

and into the countries of the North. In Asia, those whom the holy

Patriarch had left, with others who followed, multiplied the missions

among the Saracens. In Africa they continued to preach Jesus Christ

to the Mohammedans, and we see by letters dated from Rieti, the 7th

October, 1225, which Pope Honorius addressed to the Friars Preachers

and Minors, destined by the Apostolic See for the mission into the

kingdom of the Miramolin, "that they renounced themselves, and desired

to sacrifice their lives for Jesus Christ, in order to gain souls for

Him."

The Second Order instituted by Francis, and called that of the Poor

Dames, spread itself also throughout Europe, and the Third Order of

Penance made stupendous progress.

The children of this holy Patriarch, being thus spread in all parts,

preached the Gospel to the infidels, repressed heresies, attacked vice,

inspired virtue, and gave admirable examples of poverty, humility,

penance, and all perfection.

Anthony, of Padua, preached in Italy and France with so much lustre,

that he has ever been considered as one of the most marvellous preachers

whom Italy ever saw. The strength and the unction of his discourses,

the eminent sanctity of his life, the evidence of his miracles, changed

the face of the towns in which he announced the word of God. His

auditors, penetrated with conjunction, and bursting into tears, excited

each other to works of penance; the revengeful, the lascivious, the

avaricious, the usurers became converted, and resorted so to the

tribunals of penance that the number of priests were insufficient to

hear the confessions.

In the year 1225 he came to Toulouse, and visited other towns of France,

where his principal object was to confront the heretics. Animated with

the same spirit which inspired his Father, Francis, with so perfect

an attachment to the Roman Church, and the Holy See, he was the declared

enemy of all errors, and he labored with all his strength to root them

out. By quotations from the Holy Scriptures, with which he was

intimately conversant, and the sense of which he perfectly understood,

and by the solidity of his reasoning, he confounded the sectarians,

and created a great horror of the false doctrines they taught. With

admirable tact he discovered their artifices and frauds, which he laid

before the people, to preserve them from their seduction; and, in fine,

he pursued them with so much vigor and perseverance, that the faithful

gave him the name of the indefatigable mallet of the heretics; none

of them ventured to enter the lists with him, not even to say a word

in his presence.

God favored him by converting a very great number of their supporters,

and, what is very singular, many of the heads of their party. At Bourges

a man whose name was Guiald, and whom the historian calls an heresiarch,

was so convinced by the power of his words, and by a marked miracle

of the real presence of Jesus Christ in the Eucharist, that he

persevered till death in the Catholic faith, and in submission to the

Church. Another named Bonneville, or Banal, who is also stated to have

been an heresiarch, who had been thirty years buried in the darkness

of errors, was converted in a similar manner at Rimini by the sermons

of St. Anthony, and had a like perseverance.

The state in which, as we have just shown, St. Francis left his Order

when on the point of death, must be looked upon as one of the principal

marvels of his life. God had predestined him for this great work; he

labored at it for eighteen years without ceasing, with all possible

assiduity, and, on the eve of quitting this world, he might say, in

conforming himself to Jesus Christ, after having profited by His grace:

"I have glorified Thee on earth; I have finished the work Thou gavest

me to do, I now go to Thee." Happy the Christian whose conscience bears

him thus out on the bed of death, who can say that he has endeavored

to do what God required of him, and fulfilled the duties of his

profession.