BOOK V

The cruel and continued pain under which the holy Patriarch suffered,

did not prevent his giving instruction to his children, his providing

for their spiritual wants, and his answering, with admirable presence

of mind, to various questions which were put to him relative to the

observance of the Rule, and the government of the Order.

He spoke as freely, and with as much composure, as if he felt no

inconvenience. As his body became weaker, his mind seemed to acquire

fresh vigor.

One day, when his sufferings were greatly aggravated, he saw that the

brothers took great pains in endeavoring to afford him relief, and

fearing that fatigue would cause some of those who were about him to

become impatient, or that they might complain that their attendance

on him prevented them from observing their spiritual exercises, he

addressed them affectionately, saying: "My dear children, do not tire

of the trouble you take for me, for our Lord will reward you, both in

this life and in the next, for all you do for His little servant; and

if my illness takes up your time, be assured that you will gain more

from it, than if you were to labor for yourselves, because the aid you

give me is given to the entire Order and to the lives of the brethren.

I also assure you that God will be your debtor for all that you will

do for me."

It is very true that those who assisted the Saint in his illness labored

for the entire Order, and for the spiritual life of his brethren,

because they aided in the preservation of him who was so necessary to

his Order; and they put it in his power to give further instructions

to his brethren who were now in it, and to those who were to enter it

in future.

On another occasion, when his sufferings were apparently bringing him

to extremity, one of his infirmarians said to him: "Brother, pray that

God may treat you with less severity, for it seems that His hand presses

too severely upon you." At these words Francis exclaimed in a loud

voice: "If," said he, "I was not aware of the simplicity and uprightness

of your heart, I should not dare to remain in the same house with you

from this instant. You have had the rashness to criticise the judgments

of God in my regard;" and immediately, notwithstanding the weak state

in which he was, he threw himself on the ground with such violence

that his worn-out bones were all bruised; he kissed the ground and

exclaimed: "My God, I return Thee thanks for the pains I endure, and

I pray Thee to add to them an hundred-fold, if such should be Thy good

pleasure. It will be pleasing to me to know that, in afflicting me,

Thou dost not spare me, for the greatest consolation I can enjoy is,

that Thy holy will shall be fulfilled." He had in his sufferings similar

feelings to those of holy Job, and he expressed himself in a similar

manner. Ought not all Christians to have such feelings in their

illnesses and other afflictions? Are the saints not to be imitated in

this? May we not, by the grace of God, which assuredly will not be

wanting, practice those virtues by which they became saints?

Clare and her daughters, hearing that their father was so dangerously

ill, sent to express to him the grief which it caused them, and they

entreated him to mitigate their sorrow by sending them at least his

blessing. The holy Patriarch, full of tenderness for these pious

virgins, and sympathizing in their grief, and in that which they would

feel on his death, sent them some verses he had composed in the praise

of the Lord, and added to them a letter of exhortation, in which

doubtless he gave them his blessing most amply; but this is not found

in his works. We find only the following fragment, which may belong

to the letter he had written to them at that time:--

"I, Brother Francis, little man, I choose to follow the example of the

life and poverty of Jesus Christ, our most high Lord, and that of His

holy Mother, and to persevere in it to the end. I beg you also, all

you whom I consider as my Ladies, and I recommend you to conform

yourselves at all times to this life and to this poverty, the sanctity

of which is so great. Be careful not to swerve from it in the least,

nor to listen to any advice, nor to anything which may be said to

contravene it."

The oldest historians of the Order say that, in the letter he sent

them shortly before his death, he entreated them, that, as the Lord

had brought them together from many places, in order that they might

apply themselves to the practice of the sacred virtues of charity,

humility, poverty, and obedience, they should use every effort to pass

their lives accordingly, and to die in holy perserverance. He exhorts

those of his sisters who were suffering from sickness, to have patience

under their ills. And because he knew how austere they were, he

recommended them to use with discretion, and with joy and thankfulness,

the alms which Divine Providence sent them. He promised Clare that she

should see him, and, in fact, after his death she and her daughters

did see him, as shall hereafter be related.

The same writers add, that he had always entertained peculiar affection

and regard for these holy religious females, thinking that the holiness

of their life, which had been from the beginning one of great poverty

and mortification, reflected glory on the religious state, and was a

source of great edification to the whole Church. He wrote to them

several other times, to encourage them in virtue, and particularly in

the love of poverty, as we find in the will of St. Clare, but the

letters are not extant.

Even to this day we are sensible of the truth of what he said; nothing

is more glorious for the regular state, and nothing more edifying for

the whole Church, than to see the nuns of St. Clare, who keep the rule

of their Order without the slightest mitigation, who renounce the

possession of any property whatsoever, whether private or in common,

who live wholly on alms, and in such a state of rigorous austerity,

that the stronger sex would find to be quite appalling.

As soon as it was known in Assisi that the holy man was at the point

of death, the magistrates placed guards round the episcopal palace,

with orders to keep strict watch, lest his body should be taken away

the moment he should have expired, and thus the city would be deprived

of so precious a treasure.

The physician, whose name was John Lebon, a native of Arezzo,

communicated to him that death was approaching; his brethren told him

the same thing. Full of joy, he began to praise God, and having caused

some of the choir-singers to be called in, he sang with them in a loud

voice the last verses which he had added to the Canticle of the Sun:

"Be praised, O Lord! for death, our sister--which no man living on

earth can escape."

Elias, whose thoughts were always governed by human prudence, was

fearful lest his singing should be considered a weakness of mind arising

from the fear of death, and entreated him to stop. "Brother," replied

Francis, with extraordinary fervor, "permit me to rejoice in the Lord,

and to thank Him for the great tranquillity of my conscience. I am,

through His mercy and His grace, so united to my God, that I have just

reason to manifest the joy that He gives me, who is the high and most

liberal Giver of all good gifts; and do not imagine that I am so wanting

in courage as to tremble at the approach of death."

He had his children brought to him, and he blessed each one of them

as the Patriarch Jacob had done, giving to each an appropriate blessing.

Then, after the example of Moses, who blessed all the faithful

Israelites, he gave a general and ample blessing to the whole Order.

As he had stretched his arms one over the other in the form of a cross,

as Jacob had done in blessing the children of Joseph, his right hand

came upon the head of Elias, who was kneeling on his left. He asked

who it was, for his sight was quite gone, and being answered that it

was Brother Elias, he said: "'Tis well, my right hand is properly

placed on him. My son, I bless you in all and above all. Inasmuch as

under your hand the Most High has increased the number of my brethren

and children, thus I bless them all in you. May God, the Sovereign

Lord of all things, bless you in Heaven and on earth! As for me, I

bless you as far as is in my power, and even more than that--may God

who can do all, do in you what I cannot! I pray that God may bear in

mind your labors and your works, and that He may give you a share in

the rewards of the just, that you may obtain the blessings you wish

for; and may what you solicit worthily be fulfilled!"

The reader may perhaps be surprised that Francis, who knew Brother

Elias, and who had learnt by revelation that he was to die out of the

Order, should have given him a share in his blessing; but we must

recollect that He who enlightens the saints, inspires them with views

similar to His own. He loves and favors those who are in a state of

grace, although He foresees the great sins they will commit hereafter.

What affection had He not for David, and what favors did He not heap

upon him before he became guilty of the adultery and homicide which

rendered him so criminal! Thus, in a manner, the holy Patriarch, in

blessing Elias, only had in consideration the good dispositions in

which he believed him to be at that time, independent of the future,

which God had revealed to him, and which was not to guide him in this

instance. Moreover, Elias was his vicar-general, and was so by an order

from on high; he had labored usefully in the works of the Lord; the

talents he possessed put it in his power to do still more good service;

we cannot deny that he was sincerely and tenderly attached to his

Father, and that he had an ardent zeal:--all these circumstances united

might have induced the Saint to give him an ample blessing, nor was

it without good effect, since he died in sentiments of true repentance.

The man of God finding the day of his death, which Jesus Christ had

revealed to him, draw near, said to his brethren in the words of the

Prince of the Apostles: "The laying away of this my tabernacle is at

hand;" and he begged them to have himself taken to the Convent of St.

Mary of the Angels, wishing, as St. Bonaventure remarks, to render up

the spirit which had given life to him, in the place where he had

received the Spirit of grace. He was, therefore, removed, according

to his desire; and when he had come to the place between the town and

the convent, he asked if they had reached the hospital of the lepers,

and, as those who were carrying him replied in the affirmative, he

said: "Turn me now towards the town, and set me down on the ground."

Then raising himself upon the litter, he prayed for Assisi, and for

all its inhabitants. He likewise shed tears, in considering the ills

which would come upon the city, during the wars which he foresaw, and

he then gave it this blessing: "Be blest by the Lord, O city, faithful

to God! because many souls will be saved in thee and by thee. A great

number of the servants of the Most High will dwell within thy walls,

and among the number of thy artisans not a few will be chosen for

eternal life."

Some time after his arrival at St. Mary of the Angels, he called for

paper and ink, that he might acquaint Dame Jacqueline de Septisal of

the proximity of his death: she was the illustrious Roman widow who

was so much attached to him. "It is right," he said, "that, dying, I

should give that consolation to a person who afforded me so many

consolations during my life." This is what he dictated for her:

"To the lady Jacqueline, the servant of the Most High, Brother Francis,

the poor little servant of Jesus Christ, sends greetings, and

communication with the Holy Ghost, in Jesus Christ."

"Know, my very dear lady, that Jesus Christ, blessed for ever, has

done me the favor to reveal to me the end of my life: it is very near.

For which reason, if you wish to see me alive, set out as soon as you

shall have received this letter, and hasten to St. Mary of the Angels,

for, if you arrive later than Saturday, you will find me dead. Bring

with you some stuff, or rather, a sackcloth, to cover my body, and

some wax-lights for my funeral. Pray bring also some of those comfits

which you gave me when I was sick at Rome."

At these words he stopped, having his eyes raised to Heaven. He said

it was not necessary to go on with the letter, nor to send a messenger,

because the lady had set out, and was bringing with her all that was

required; and, in fact, she arrived shortly after with her two sons

and a considerable suite, bringing with her the stuff, a quantity of

wax-lights, and certain electuaries which were comforting for the

stomach.

The religious asked her how she could have come so opportunely, without

having had notice given her, and how she came to bring all that was

requisite for the time. She told them that during the night she had

received an order from Heaven, and that an angel had requested her not

to leave out any of the things which had been desired.

On Friday, October the 4th, Francis again collected all his brethren

together, blessed them a second time, and having blessed a loaf of

bread with the sign of the cross, he gave to each a piece as a symbol

of union and fraternal charity. They all partook of it with great

devotion, representing to themselves, in this repast of love, the last

supper which Jesus Christ ate with His disciples. Brother Elias, who

wept bitterly, was the only one who did not eat his portion, which was

perhaps a mournful foreboding of the division he was to introduce into

the Order. In truth, he kept the piece he had received from their

Father respectfully in his hand; but, as if he had cast aside the

charity which was offered him, instead of, at least, keeping the morsel

of bread, he gave it to Brother Leo, who asked him for it. Great care

was taken for its preservation, and God permitted that it should be

subsequently used for the cure of many maladies.

All the brothers had melted into tears, and the holy Patriarch inquired

where Bernard, his eldest son, was. And Bernard having drawn near, he

said: "Come, my son, that I may bless you before I die." Feeling that

he was kneeling on his left, while Brother Giles was on his right, he

put his hands again crosswise, so that his right hand came on the head

of Bernard, to whom he gave this blessing:--

"May the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ bless you with all the

spiritual blessings which He has shed from on high on His Son. As you

were chosen the first to give good example of the Evangelical law in

this Order, and to imitate the poverty of Jesus Christ, to whom you

generously offered your goods and your person in the odor of sweetness,

so may you be blessed by our Lord Jesus Christ, and by His poor servant;

and may you be so blessed in your going out and coming in, waking or

sleeping, living and dying. May he who blesses you, be filled with

blessings; and may he who curses you, not remain unpunished. Be the

lord of your brethren, and let them be all subject to you. Let all

those whom you shall approve, be admitted into the Order, and all whom

you shall reject, be rejected. Let no one have authority over you, so

that you may be at liberty to go and dwell where you think proper."

Bernard having retired, with his eyes bathed in tears, Francis said

to the others: "My intention is, and I direct that whoever may be

appointed minister general, may so love and honor Brother Bernard as

myself, and that all the provincial ministers, as well as all the

brethren of this Order, may look upon him as they have done on me; in

fact, I leave him to you as the half of my soul. There are few who are

able to appreciate his virtue: it is so great, that Satan never ceases

from tempting him, molesting him, and laying snares for him. But, by

God's help, he will get the better of all, to the great profit of his

soul, and he will find himself in an extraordinary manner in perfect

tranquillity." Those who were present, and who afterwards lived with

Bernard, witnessed the fulfilment of these predictions. His eminent

sanctity, well known to Francis, and of which he foresaw the

perseverance, was the reason why he ordered the others to respect him

as their master, and why he rendered him independent, in order that

he might have full leisure to give himself up to contemplation, which

had such charms for him. For a similar reason, he gave him power to

admit or reject novices, as his prudence should dictate: a privilege

which was the more appropriate, as Bernard had been the first to enter

into the Order.

St. Bonaventure is silent as to the manner and fervor with which the

Servant of God received the last sacraments, following in that the

method of many old authors who, in the lives of saints, only notice

those things which are peculiar and marvellous, without speaking of

the common and ordinary actions of all Christians. But we have only

to bear in mind the great respect St. Francis had for all the practices

of the Church; the spirit of penance by which he was animated; the

vivid and tender affections of his heart towards the Passion of the

Son of God, and the mystery of the Holy Eucharist; the ardor of his

zeal to cause Jesus Christ to be adored in the august sacrament, and

revered in all that related to it; his eagerness in recommending the

frequent approach to the Holy Communion, and the constant recourse he

himself had to this balm for the soul, so that for fear of being

deprived of it, he chose to have Mass said in his own room during his

illnesses:--all these recollections, being united, are demonstrations

of what must have been the dispositions of the Saint when the last

sacraments were administered to him.

He particularly desired all his brethren to have a peculiar veneration

for the Church of St. Mary of the Angels, because it had been revealed

that the Blessed Virgin had a singular affection for this church among

all those which were dedicated to her name, and upon this subject he

spoke as follows, with great animation:--

"It is my desire that this place shall be always under the direction

of the person who shall be minister-general and servitor of the Order;

and that the minister shall be careful to select for its service only

good and holy brethren; and that the clerics who shall be appointed

to it shall be taken from those of the Order who are the best and the

holiest, and are the best instructed for the celebration of the Divine

Offices, so that their brethren and the seculars may be edified in

seeing and hearing them. Let them also be particular in choosing the

lay brethren to be placed there; let them be discreet, mild, and humble

men, whose lives are holy, who shall serve the others without entering

into idle discourse, not talk of the news, or what is passing in the

world, nor of any thing which does not relate to the salvation of

souls. It is also my desire that none of the brethren shall come here

except the minister-general and his companions, and that no secular

shall be admitted, in order that those belonging to the place may the

better preserve themselves in purity and holiness, and that the place

itself may remain pure and holy, being solely devoted to singing the

praises of the Lord. When God shall be pleased to call any one of them

to Himself, I desire that the minister-general may send another whose

life shall be equally holy. My intention is, that, if the brethren

shall swerve from the path of perfection, this place shall be ever

blest, and shall remain as the example and model for the whole Order;

as a beautiful torch before the throne of God, and before the altar

of the Blessed Virgin, where lamps shall be ever burning, to obtain

from the goodness of God that He may grant His pardon to the brethren

for all their faults, and preserve and protect this Order which He has

planted with His own hand."

"My children," he continued, "be careful never to abandon this spot,

and if you are driven out on one side, return by the opposite one; for

it is holy, it is the dwelling-place of Jesus Christ, and of the Blessed

Virgin, His Mother. It is here that the Lord, the Most High, has

multiplied our numbers, from being very few; here, by the light of His

wisdom, He enlightened the minds of His poor ones; here, by the ardor

of His love, he inflamed our hearts; here, whoever shall pray devoutly,

will obtain whatever he may ask; and whoever shall sin here, will be

punished with greater rigor. Wherefore, my children, have a great

veneration for this place, which is truly the dwelling of the Almighty,

peculiarly beloved by Jesus Christ and His blessed Mother. Employ

yourselves here joyfully, and with your whole hearts, in praising and

blessing God and His Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, in unity with the

Holy Ghost. Amen."

The day at length arrived which had been fixed by Divine Providence

for terminating and rewarding the labors of this faithful Servant of

God: it was a Saturday, the fourth of October. St. Bonaventure who

considers him on his death-bed as a work well finished by the chisel

of suffering, as a precious jewel cut and polished, to be placed in

the sacred edifice of the celestial Jerusalem, remarks, that, finding

himself near his end, and animating himself with fresh fervor, he

stretched himself on the ground.

All the brethren were penetrated with grief and shed tears. One of

them, whom the holy man called his guardian, knowing by inspiration

what he wished for, went quickly to fetch a tunic, a cord, and the

other parts of the dress of a Friar Minor, and brought them to him,

saying: "Here is what we lend you, as to a poor man; take them out of

obedience." He accepted this alms, and was rejoiced that he was faithful

to the last to poverty, which he called his dame and his mistress;

then raising his hands to heaven, he gave glory to our Lord Jesus

Christ, that, being disengaged and free from everything, he was about

to go to Him.

At the beginning of his conversion he stripped himself before the

Bishop of Assisi, in imitation of the poor life of our Saviour; and

to resemble Him more completely in His state of poverty, of nudity,

and of suffering on the cross, he stripped himself before his brethren

at his death, and chose to leave this world poor as he came into it,

or, at least, only in a habit which he had received as an alms: such

was his love of poverty.

"Oh!" exclaims St. Bonaventure, "with what truth may it be said that

this was verily a Christian man, who has rendered himself perfectly

conformable to Jesus Christ while living, or dying, or dead, and who

has merited the honor of such a conformity, by the impression of the

five wounds!"

What is further remarkable is, that they asked him where he desired

to be buried, to which he answered: "In the vilest of places, on the

Infernal Hill, on that side where criminals are executed."

This place was out of the Town of Assisi, near the walls, vulgarly

called the Infernal Hill, perhaps on account of its being the place

of execution. The Servant of God wished to be buried there, in order

to be in strict conformity with his Divine Master, "who chose," says

St. Jerome, "to be crucified in the usual place of execution, as a

criminal among criminals, for the salvation of men, and to be placed

in a tomb which was close by." His wish became a prophecy, for, two

years after his death, as will be explained hereafter, a church was

built in his honor on the Infernal Hill, when the name was changed

into that of the Hill of Paradise, and the site of the church was so

contrived that his body was placed precisely on the spot where the

gallows had been formerly erected.

Seeing his last hour drawing nigh, he summoned all his brethren who

were in the convent, and after having addressed some words of

consolation to them, to mitigate the grief they felt for his death,

he exhorted them to love God as a tender Father. Then he spoke to them

for a long time on the care they should take to persevere in the faith

of the Church of Rome, in poverty and in patience, under the

tribulations which awaited them, as well as in successes of their holy

undertaking. He made use of the most moving expressions in recommending

to them to make progress towards eternal goods, to be armed with

vigilance against the dangers of the world, and to walk exactly in the

paths of Jesus Christ; remarking to them that the observance of His

Gospel was the basis and essence of their Institution, and that all

their practices had this in view.

After the holy man had made known his last wishes, he sent for Brother

Leo, his confessor, and for Brother Angelo, whom he directed to sing

in his presence the Canticle of the Sun, because death was very near:

this is the canticle of which we have spoken, in which he gives glory

to God for all His creatures, and also for death. As he was assured

by revelation that death would remove him to eternal life, its proximity

filled him with joy, which he evidenced by causing the praises of God

to be sung.

When the canticle was finished, he placed his arms one over the other

in the form of a cross,--a saving sign, to which he had been always

devoted, as St. Bonaventure remarks--and stretching them over his

brethren who stood around him, he gave his blessing for the last time,

as well to those who were present, as to those who were absent, in the

name and by virtue of Jesus crucified. He then pronounced the following

words with great mildness and suavity: "Adieu, my children, I bid you

all adieu; I leave you in the fear of the Lord, abide ever in that.

The time of trial and tribulation approaches; happy those who persevere

in the good they have begun. As to me, I go to God with great eagerness,

and I recommend you all to His favor"

He then called for the book of the Gospels, and requested them to read

to him the Gospel of St. John, at that part where the history of the

Passion of our Blessed Saviour begins by these words: "Ante diem festum

Pascha," before the Feast of the Passover. After this had been read,

he began himself to recite, as well as he could, the hundred and

forty-first psalm, "Voce mea ad Dominum clamavi:" "I have cried to

Thee, O Lord, with my voice;" and he continued it to the last verse,

"Me expectant justi, donec retribuas mihi:" "The just wait for me,

until Thou reward me." In fine, all the mysteries of grace having been

fulfilled in this man, so beloved by God, his very soul, absorbed in

Divine love, was released from the shackles of his body, and went to

repose in the Lord.

Such a death makes good what the Holy Fathers of the Church say, that

the perfect Christian dies with joy, and with pleasure. There is no

one who would not wish for such a death. The most worldly would desire

with Balaam, that their life should end as that of the just; but the

perfection of the just must be imitated to afford any hope of the end

being similar: death is only mild and consoling in proportion to the

fervor of a Christian life.

St. Bonaventure places on record many proofs which they had of the

glory of St. Francis at the moment of his death. One of his disciples

saw his blessed soul, under the figure of a brilliant star, rise upon

a white cloud, above all the others, and go straight to heaven. This

marked, says the holy doctor, the splendor of his sublime sanctity,

with the plenitude of grace and wisdom, which had rendered him worthy

of entering into the regions of light and peace, where, with Jesus

Christ, he enjoys a repose which will be eternal.

Brother Austin, of Assisi, Provincial of the Terra di Lavoro, a just

and saintly man, who was in the last stage of a severe illness, and

had ceased to speak, suddenly exclaimed: "Wait for me, my Father, wait

for me; I will go with you" The brethren, quite astonished, asked him

who he was speaking to. "What," said he, "don't you see our Father,

Francis, going up to Heaven?" At that very moment his soul separated

itself from his body, and followed that of his Father. Thomas of Celano,

and Bernard of Bessa, companions of St. Bonaventure, also mentioned

that a holy man of their day had a revelation to the effect, that the

souls of several Friars Minors were delivered from the sufferings of

purgatory, and were joined with that of the holy Patriarch, to enter

Heaven with him.

The Bishop of Assisi being then on a devotional tour to Mount Gargano,

to visit the Church of the Archangel Michael, Francis appeared to him

on the night of his death, and said: "I leave the world, and am going

up to heaven." The prelate, in the morning, mentioned to those who

accompanied him what he had seen; and on his return, having made exact

inquiry, he found that the apparition had appeared to him at the very

time of the Saint's death.

The body of St. Francis, after his death, was an object worthy of

admiration, according to this description of it, given by St.

Bonaventure on the testimony of those who had seen it, and reported

verbally to him all the circumstances, conformably to what had been

taken down in writing: On his hands and on his feet black nails were

seen as of iron, wonderfully formed of his flesh by Divine power, and

so attached to his flesh, that, when they were pressed on one side,

they protruded farther on the other, as hard excrescences, and all of

one piece. Nothing now prevented the wound on his side from being seen,

which he hid with so much care during his lifetime,--this wound, which

had not been made by the hand of man, and which resembled the opening

in the side of our Blessed Saviour, from which the sacrament of our

redemption issued, and that of our regeneration. Its color was red,

and the edges, rounded off, gave it the appearance of a beautiful rose.

The flesh of the Saint, which was naturally of a brownish color, and

which his diseases had rendered tawny, became extraordinarily white.

It called to mind the robes whitened in the blood of the Lamb, with

which the saints are clothed. His limbs were flexible and pliable as

those of an infant; evident signs of the innocence and candor of his

soul. The whiteness of his skin contrasted with the black nails of his

hands and feet, and with the wound in his side, which resembled a

fresh-blossomed rose, exhibited a variety of tints which was beautiful

and pleasing, and was the admiration of those who saw it. His body,

in fine, was the representation of the Passion of Jesus Christ by the

wounds imprinted on it, and of the glorious resurrection by the

qualifications it had received after death.

This marvellous and novel sight mitigated the affliction of his

children; it strengthened their faith, inflamed their love, and quite

enraptured them; and, although the death of so amiable a father caused

them to shed torrents of tears, they, nevertheless, had their hearts

filled with joy when they kissed the impressions of the wounds of the

great King imprinted on his flesh.

As soon as the news of his death was spread, and the circumstances of

the stigmata came to be spoken of, the people came in crowds to see

them: each person wished to see them with his own eyes, and assure

himself of the truth of an event which was the cause of so much joy

to the public. A great number of the citizens of Assisi were permitted

to approach, to see and to kiss the sacred stigmata. One of them named

Jerome, belonging to the army, a learned and prudent man, whose

reputation was very extensive, finding it difficult to give credit to

so wonderful a circumstance, examined the wounds more particularly and

more minutely than the rest, in presence of the brethren, and of many

persons of the town. He felt the feet, the hands, and the wound in the

side of the Saint's body; he moved the nails, and convinced himself

so perfectly of the truth of the fact, that he was afterwards a most

zealous advocate and witness to it, and made oath to its truth on the

holy Evangelists. "It was," St. Bonaventure remarks, "a case similar

to that of the Apostle St. Thomas, who, from being incredulous, became

a faithful witness after having put his hands into the wounds of the

Saviour, in order that his faith, preceded by incredulity, should

strengthen our faith, and prevent us from becoming incredulous."

The brethren, who had been present at the death of the blessed

Patriarch, passed the remainder of the night in singing the praises

of God around the body, with a number of other persons, who had

collected there for the purpose, insomuch that it more resembled a

feast of celestial spirits than the funeral service of a mortal.

The next morning, which was Sunday, the holy corpse was carried to

Assisi on the shoulders of the principal persons of that city, and

those of the highest rank among the Friars Minors; hymns and canticles

being sung the whole way, while the concourse followed, carrying in

their hands lighted torches, or branches of laurel. The procession

passed on to the Church of St. Damian, where Clare and her nuns awaited

it, and where it halted for a short time, to afford them the consolation

of seeing and kissing the stigmata. In admiring this extraordinary

prodigy, and lamenting the death of such a father, they called to mind

the promise he had made them during his last illness, that they should

again see him before their death. Clare endeavored to draw the nail

from one of his hands, which, as the head of it was raised above the

palm of the hand, she thought she would be able to effect, but she

found it impossible. She, therefore, only dipped a piece of linen in

the blood which exuded; and she took the measure of the body, by which

she had a niche made of similar size, on that side of the choir which

the religious occupied, in which the image of the saint was afterwards

placed. These pious virgins would have been glad to have detained the

body longer, but it was necessary to resume the route to Assisi, where

he was buried in the Church of St. George, with every possible

veneration and respect. It was there he had received the first rudiments

of education, it was there he had preached for the first time, and

there was his first place of repose.

Brother Elias, in his quality of vicar-general, wrote a circular letter

on his death, which he sent into all the provinces of the Order. The

copy which the Provincial of France received, was thus directed: "To

my well-beloved brother in Jesus Christ, Brother Gregory, minister

of the brethren who are in France, and to all his brethren, and to

ours, Brother Elias sends greeting."

He first expresses his grief in very affecting terms, and in alluding

to the loss the Order had sustained, he passes a high eulogium on the

sanctity of their common Father, with many citations from the Sacred

Scriptures, very aptly applied. Then, he says, that what must console

the children of the blessed patriarch is, that his death opened to him

eternal life, and that previously he had pardoned all the offences

which he might have sustained from any of them. This article only

regarded Brother Elias and his adherents, for they were the only ones

who had caused him any displeasure, and, according to all probability,

Elias only adverted to it to soften the feelings of many who were

irritated with him in consequence of his relaxation. After this

preliminary he communicates to them a great cause for rejoicing in the

miracle of the stigmata, which he treats as follows: "We had seen our

Brother and our Father, Francis, some time before his death as one

crucified, having on his body five wounds similar to those of Jesus

Christ, nails of the color of nails of iron, which perforated his hands

and feet, his side being laid open as by the wound of a lance, from

whence blood often percolated. Immediately after his death his face,

which was not handsome during his life, became extraordinarily

beautiful, white and brilliant, and pleasing to behold; his limbs,

which the contraction of the muscles, caused by his great sufferings,

had stiffened like to those of a corpse, became pliant and flexible

as those of a child: they could be handled and placed in any position

which might be wished."

He then exhorts them to give glory to God for so great a miracle, and

adds: "He who used to console us in our afflictions is no more, he has

been taken from us; we are now orphans, and have no longer a father.

But, since it is written, that 'to the Lord is the poor man left: He

will be a helper to the orphan, let us address our prayers to Him, my

dear brethren, and let us entreat Him to give us another chief, who,

as a true Machabee, shall guide us and lead us to battle." At the close

of the letter he ordered prayers for the deceased, saying: "It is not

useless to pray for the dead; pray for him, as he requested we should:

but at the same time pray that we may obtain from God a participation

in His grace. Amen." It was signed, "Brother Elias, a sinner."

Although Elias doubted not that the holy man was in glory, he,

nevertheless, prescribed praying for him, not only to comply with the

wish of the deceased, and not to forestall the decision of the Holy

See, but, also, because he bore in mind what St. Augustine had said,

that the sacrifices and prayers offered for the dead whose life has

been irreproachable, are acts of thanksgiving.

CONCLUSION

We have yet to mention what the Holy See did to glorify St. Francis

and to make his name memorable for all times. Pope Honorius III died

on the 18th of March, 1227, to the great grief of the entire Church.

He dearly loved St. Francis and had approved the Rule of the Friars

Minor. The morning after his death the cardinals assembled and elected

Cardinal Ugolini as his successor, who took unto himself the name of

Gregory IX. Cardinal Ugolini was the intimate friend of Francis, the

Protector of his Order and the founder of several Franciscan Convents;

as was recorded above, St. Francis predicted his Pontificate.

A riot at Rome shortly after caused the Holy Father to flee to Rieti,

he then went to Spoleto, and from thence to Assisi. At Assisi he was

greeted with the greatest enthusiasm by the people. His deep piety

prompted him to visit the grave of our Saint, where he spent a long

time in prayer. At the general chapter held at Rome, June 7, 1227, in

which Brother Elias was re-elected, His Holiness was petitioned by all

present to canonize Francis whom God already made illustrious by many

miracles. Now a favorable opportunity presented itself to pay special

heed to this petition. He caused a rigorous examination to be made of

all the miracles attributed to the intercession of the Saint after his

death. This was not a difficult matter for there were a great number

of witnesses in the city and neighboring places. In the meanwhile the

Holy Father went to Perugia to attend to some affairs of state. When

the validity of the proofs regarding the miracles and virtues of St.

Francis could in no way be questioned, Gregory returned to Assisi.

The canonization took place with the greatest solemnity on Sunday July

16th, in the Church of St. George, where the body of the Saint reposed.

Amidst an immense assembly of cardinals, bishops, priests, clerics,

members of the Franciscan Orders, knights, lords, and dignitaries of

the, provinces and a vast multitude of people the Sovereign Pontiff

pronounced from his throne, the following solemn words:

"To the glory of the Most High God, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, the

glorious Virgin Mary, the blessed Apostles Peter and Paul, and to the

honor of the whole Roman Church, we have resolved, in concert with our

brethren and other prelates, to inscribe in the catalogue of the saints,

the blessed Father Francis, whom God has glorified in Heaven, and whom

we venerate on earth. His feast shall be celebrated on the day of his

death."

At once the cardinals intoned the Te Deum, the people responded by

their cries and shouts of joy. Thereupon prayers of thanksgiving were

recited and then the august Pontiff celebrated Holy Mass. It was a day

of grace, of exultation and triumph for Assisi, for the Franciscan

Family and for the whole Church. Thus was St. Francis canonized but

a few years after his death.

The humble Saint had asked to be interred on the "Infernal Hill," the

hill on which criminals were buried. Up to the present his desire could

not be fulfilled. The City of Assisi waited to make that place of

ignominy a worthy abode for the remains of its most saintly and

illustrious citizen. A magnificent double-church was erected on the

spot. The Sovereign Pontiff declared that henceforth the place shall

be called "Hill of Paradise" and later on laid the corner-stone for

the new edifice. The lower church was completed in 1230. The elaborate

portal is a plan of Baccio Pontelli. The stained glass windows by

Bonino, a native of Assisi, render a soft and mellow harmony of light

no less charming than that of the mosaic interior of San Marco, Venice.

Famous frescoes which influenced all the great movements of art that

followed, cover the walls of the church. Those in the sanctuary by

Giotto are particularly fine. They represent St. Francis espousing

Humility, Charity, and Poverty. The gold and blue of the backgrounds

upon which the numerous scenes are painted, harmonize beautifully in

the general color scheme of the sacred edifice. In the fourteenth

century nine chapels were added along the walls of the lower church,

mostly memorial chapels of cardinals and bishops.

Two years after the construction of the lower church with its vaulted

top, the building of the upper church began. The Gothic form of

architecture was chosen for the building, so that the high and pointed

arches be emblematic of the lofty spirit of St. Francis, and of the

towering strength of his followers, whose object it is to raise the

spirit of men to a higher standard of religion and devotion. After its

completion in the year 1253 Pope Innocent IV came in person to Assisi

and consecrated the upper and lower church. At the same time the Holy

Father, who resided in the monastery at Assisi with the Franciscan

Fathers for five months, solemnly canonized the Bishop and Martyr

Stanislaus of Cracow. The upper church again afforded the genius of

artists ample opportunity to blossom forth. Zimabue enriched the

sanctuary with brilliant frescoes from the life of the Blessed Virgin

Mary whom St. Francis had chosen to be the Patroness and Protectress

of his three orders for all future times. The choir-picture, the

Assumption of the Virgin, is the finest of the series. In the apse are

frescoes of St. Peter and St. Paul to whose tomb (at Rome) St. Francis

made a pilgrimage to ask for grace and light at the beginning of his

conversion. Other frescoes of Zimabue, also in the apse of the church,

represent various passages of the Apocalypse, relative to the

rejuvenation of the Church; St. Francis was called and appointed by

God to restore the church which was falling into ruins. Along the lower

wall-spaces of the nave are twenty-eight large frescoes from the life

of St. Francis by Giotto, Taddio, Gaddi and Giunto Pisano; the upper

spaces have representations of the Old and New Testament by Pietro

Cavallini and his school. These upper paintings are now in ruins, but

even in their ruins they are precious pearls of mediaeval art. The

stained glass windows are of such exceptional beauty and artistic

correctness that their equal cannot be found in all Italy. Speaking

of the Church of St. Francis at Assisi, a traveller says in substance

as follows: In its tremendous proportions the gigantic Church of St.

Francis can only be compared to the pyramids of Egypt; and both are

symbolic of their times. The pyramids were erected by the iron will

and the cruel might of the Pharaohs, the blood of nations stain every

stone and they are bedewed with many tears. The Church of St. Francis

was built by the self-sacrificing love and heartfelt gratitude of

nations. Its stones are worn by the footsteps and the tears of millions

and millions of people, who came there, perhaps sad and weary, but

returned with the love and the peace of the Saint in their heart.

When the lower church was completed (1230), the venerable remains of

St. Francis were translated to their new resting-place. Such numbers

were present at this translation, that many had to sleep out under

tents during the night, the walls of Assisi not being able to contain

so vast a multitude. The people of Assisi, having observed a commotion

in the crowd, began to fear that an attempt was being made to deprive

them of their sacred treasure: accordingly they rushed to the bier,

took possession of the Saint's body, entered the church, locked the

doors, and interred the body, without allowing any of the clergy,

religious, or people to enter. In consequence of this event, an

impenetrable veil of secrecy long hung over the place where the body

had been laid. In 1818, Pope Pius VII gave permission to the General

of the Conventual Minors to make researches under the high altar. Many

previous researches had been made; they grew to such gigantic

proportions that the foundations of the massive structure were partly

undermined. To prevent the ruin of the basilica at Assisi, the Holy

See finally forbade all further researches without the special consent

of the Sovereign Pontiff. When Pope Pius VII gave the necessary

permission, the researches were again taken up, but very carefully and

in great secrecy. The workmen were employed for fifty-two nights in

hard labor. At length, after having broken through rocks and massive

walls, an iron grating was discovered, beneath which was a skeleton

in a stone coffin, which when opened, exhaled the most fragrant odor.

The Holy Father deputed the Bishops of Assisi, Nocera, Spoleto, Perugia,

and Foligno, to make a juridical examination, to certify the

authenticity of the body. Then, in accordance with a decree of the

Council of Trent, he named a commission of cardinals and theologians,

and, all being settled, on the 5th of December, 1820, he declared in

a Brief that "this body is verily the body of Saint Francis of Assisi,

Founder of the Order of Friars Minor." The sacred body of St. Francis

now lies beneath the main altar of the lower church, mentioned before,

in an exquisitely beautiful little chapel hewn out of the solid rock.

The remains repose in their original sarcophagus, which is bound by

broad girders of steel.

Seven hundred years have elapsed since the death of this humble servant

of God. His memory has outlived all the storms that have agitated the

world. The good seed that he sowed is still bringing forth fruit a

hundredfold. Like the Apostles of old, he labored in the vineyard of

the Lord, and opened up to others, Heavenly treasures of untold value.

Yet more, in the person of St. Francis, Jesus of Nazareth lived again

for the instruction and edification of the whole world, as He had never

done in any individual, since the great Apostle of the Gentiles. At

the word of St. Francis a revival of primitive Christianity sprang

into existence at a time when all civilization seemed unhinged on

account of the almost universal decay in morals. He taught men afresh

that the commands of Jesus Christ could be literally obeyed and that

the Sermon on the Mount was as applicable to the men of the middle and

all succeeding ages as to the first age of Christian history. This New

Abraham begot through the Gospel the largest family of Christ's

followers and of missionaries the Catholic Church has ever produced.

It is well known that the history of the Church from the thirteenth

to the sixteenth century was largely the history of the rise and growth

of Franciscanism in every part of Europe. To-day, after seven centuries

have elapsed, we find no symptoms of decay in the great Franciscan

Family. The priests and laybrothers of the First Order are to be found

laboring assiduously in every country. In efficiency and number their

active missionaries are second to none. They are storming the

strongholds of Satan from one end of the world to the other. The Second

Order stands before us as of old, a beautiful lily in the Sanctuary

of God. The Holy Virgins, of the Second Order, called "Poor Clares,"

seek voluntary oblivion and by their pure and pious life of the greatest

austerity, of seclusion, silence, penance and prayer, daily open the

floodgates of God's graces to mankind. The wonderful and healthy growth

of the Third Order, especially since the great Encyclical on St. Francis

and on the Third Order by Pope Leo XIII (1882), need not be mentioned;

it is a fact known to all. Since the work of the Seraphic Saint is so

prosperous at present, we need not doubt about the future. As we have

previously seen God Himself revealed to St. Francis that his institution

shall remain till the end of times. Thus the Most High glorified and

rewarded the poor, humble man of Assisi, "the greatest of sinners,"

as he loved to call himself. St. Francis now reigns in Heaven, brilliant

as the Morning Star, and showers his blessings upon his many children.

Let us praise God for the grace and glory He gave his humble Servant

and let us deeply impress upon our mind the words of the Holy Ghost:

"God resists the proud, but gives his graces to the humble." "He that

humbleth himself shall be exalted."

"ST. FRANCIS SEALED WITH THE CHARACTER OF JESUS"

The eminent perfection of St. Francis was grounded on a tender and

fervent devotion to Jesus Christ crucified. This adorable object had

a powerful attraction for his heart, was the source of all the graces

he received, and the model of all the virtues he practised. From the

sufferings of our Saviour he made for himself, as St. Bernard had done,

a nosegay of myrrh, which he always carried in his bosom; he considered

attentively the sufferings of his Beloved, he suffered them himself,

and they called forth his sighs and his tears; it was his wish that

the fire of this love might transform him entirely into Him who had

borne them.

The poverty of the Son of God, in His birth, during His life, and at

His death, made such impression on the heart of Francis, that he

embraced this virtue with inexpressible ardor.

Seeing that it was rejected by the world, and looking upon it as the

pearl of the Gospel, to acquire it, he abandoned father, mother, and

all that he had. No person ever sought after riches with so much

avidity, and no one ever guarded his treasure with so much care. He

never wore, until his death, anything but a worthless tunic, and he

refused himself everything but what was absolutely necessary. He would

yield to no one in poverty, although he considered himself the most

abject of all. If he saw any one worse dressed than he was, he

considered it as a reproach to himself. One day, meeting a poor man

who was almost naked, he said to his companion with a sigh: "There is

a poor man who shames us. We have chosen poverty for our greatest

riches, and in him you see it shine far more than in us."

For his nourishment, he greatly preferred what he solicited for the

love of God from door to door, to what was offered to him. He frequently

considered within himself, and it brought tears into his eyes, how

poor our Saviour and His Blessed Mother had been in this world, and

the reflection induced him to live in greater poverty.

As to the cells, he always chose the smallest. One of his secular

friends having had one built, which was only made of wood, though

pretty neat, in the hermitage of Sarthiano, he found it too fine, and

said he would not enter it a second time unless it was put into a state

of poverty; so that, in order to induce him to return, it was necessary

to cover it roughly with branches of trees, both without and within.

He left it afterwards because one of his companions had said to him,

"Father, I am come to look for you in your cell." "I will not occupy

it any longer," he replied, "because you consider it mine in calling

it my cell: another may live in it, to whom it will not be

appropriated."

This is what his companions tell us on the subject:--"We have often

heard him say, we, who have lived with him: 'I will not have as mine

either dwelling-place, or any other thing, for our Master has said:

"The foxes have lairs, and the birds of the air, nests; but the Son

of Man hath not where to lay His head."'"

He was also accustomed to say: "When our Lord went to fast in the

desert, where He remained forty days and forty nights, He had no cell

prepared for Him, nor any other covering; it was only in some crevice

of the mountain that He took repose." The same authors add, that, in

order to imitate Jesus Christ perfectly, Francis desired to have neither

convent nor cell which could be called his. And, moreover, if sometimes,

on arriving, he pointed out to his brethren the cell which he proposed

to occupy, he checked himself immediately, as having shown too much

solicitude, and went into another, which had not been prepared for

him. Shall, then, the children of the Patriarch of the poor be censured

when they imitate this tenderness of conscience; and when, to show

their aversion to the possession of property, they call even the things

which are most essential for them to have the use of, by terms which

show that they do not even hold them in common, and that they have

nothing which is their own?

Although the servant of God possessed every virtue in a very high

degree, yet it was remarked that the virtue of poverty was the one

which was above all the others; and this it pleased the Almighty to

make known by an admirable vision. When the saint was going to Sienna,

three very poor women, who resembled each other both in size and

countenance, and appeared to be of the same age, presented themselves

before him, and greeted him in these words: "May the Lady Poverty be

welcome!" This salutation filled him with joy, because nothing was

more grateful to him in greeting him than to speak of poverty, which

was so dear to him. The vision immediately vanished, and his companions,

who had seen it, had no doubt that there was something mysterious in

it; that God meant thereby to discover to them something which related

to their father.--"In fact," says St. Bonaventure, "these three women,

who were so like to each other, were not bad representations of

chastity, obedience, and poverty, which constitute the beauty of

Evangelical perfection, and were the very eminent characteristics of

the saintly man; yet the expressions which these women made use of in

greeting him, showed that he had chosen poverty as his special

prerogative, and the principal object of his glory; and, indeed, he

was in the habit of calling it sometimes his lady, sometimes his mother,

and sometimes his spouse or his queen."

It is not possible to record in this place all the praise which the

holy Founder gave to this Evangelical virtue. He called it the Queen,

not only because it shone with splendor in JESUS CHRIST, the King of

kings, and in His Blessed Mother, but because it is elevated above all

earthly things, which it tramples under foot. "Know," he used to say

to his brethren, "that poverty is the hidden treasure of the Gospel,

the basis on which an order rests the special path to salvation, the

support of humility, the mother of self-renunciation, the principle

of obedience, the death of self-love, the destruction of vanity and

cupidity, the rod of perfection, the fruits of which are abundant,

though hidden. It is a virtue descended from Heaven which acts within

us, and enables us to despise everything which is despicable; it

subverts all the obstacles which prevent the soul from perfectly uniting

itself to God by humility and charity; it causes those by whom it is

beloved to become active as pure spirits, and enables them to take

their flight towards Heaven, to converse with angels, though still

living on earth. It is so excellent and so divine a virtue, that vile

and abject vases such as we are, are not worthy of containing it."

In order to obtain the grace of poverty, he often recited the following

prayer to Jesus Christ: "O Lord Jesus! point out to me the ways of

poverty, which are so dear to Thee. Have pity on me, for I love it

with such intensity that I can find no repose without it, and Thou

knowest that it is Thou who gavest me this ardent love. It is rejected,

despised, and hated by the world, although it is a dame and a queen,

and Thou hast had the goodness to come down from Heaven to make poverty

Thy spouse, and to have from her, by her, and in her, perfect children.

My Jesus, who chosest to be extremely poor! the favor which I ask of

Thee is, to give me the privilege of poverty; I ardently desire to be

enriched by this treasure; I entreat of Thee that it may be mine, and

of those who belong to me, and that we may never possess anything of

our own under heaven for the glory of Thy name, and that we may exist,

during this miserable life, on those things only which are given to

us, and that we be very sparing in the use we shall make even of these.

Amen."

This friend of poverty did not confine it to the repudiation of all

external things: he carried its perfection to the most elevated

spiritual point. "He who aspires to its attainment," he said, "must

renounce not only all worldly prudence, but in some degree all learning

and science, so that, being stripped of all sorts of goods, he may

place himself under cover of the protection of the Most High, think

only of His justice, and cast himself into the arms of the Crucified.

For it is not to renounce the world entirely, if any attachment to its

lights, and to one's own feelings, remains in the secret recesses of

the heart." He did not assert that, in order to arrive at the perfection

of poverty, it was necessary to be without learning, but he required

that learning should not be considered by the possessor as an interior

property, from which self-love should be fed; that there should not

be that secret attachment to mental illumination, which is the primary

source of error, and the basis of the obstinacy of heretics; that all

of knowledge should "be referred to God, and that we should in some

sense strip ourselves of it to acquire the perception of God alone,

and of His holy law. St. Hilary said, speaking in the same sense, that

we must always bear in mind that we are men, that we have nothing of

our own, not even the use of our senses and faculties; that these come

from God, and that we must only use them as things which are in a

continual dependence on His will. This is an important instruction for

the consideration of the learned."

The lively affection which St. Francis bore for the crucified Jesus,

from the moment of his conversion, rendered him very austere towards

himself. Not only could he not suffer that the tunic which he wore

should have anything soft in it, but he chose that it should be rough

and harsh; when he found that it had become too soft, he put knotted

cords on the inside to counteract the softness.

It was usually on the bare ground that he laid his body down,--that

body which was worn out by fatigue; sometimes he slept, sitting with

his head resting on a stone or piece of wood. As to food, he scarcely

took what was absolutely necessary for his nourishment. When in health,

he seldom permitted anything to be put before him which was cooked,

and then he either strewed ashes upon it, or added water to it, to

take away the taste. Pure water was his only beverage, and then he

drank so little that it was insufficient for quenching his thirst.

Besides the Lent kept by all Christians, he kept eight others in the

course of the year. The first, of forty days, from the day after the

Epiphany, in memory of our Lord's fast in the desert, after He had

been baptized by John, which took place on the sixth day of January,

according to the old tradition of the Church. The second was from the

Wednesday in Easter week, to Whit-Sunday, to prepare himself for

receiving the Holy Ghost. The third, from the day after the Festival

of Pentecost to the Feast of SS. Peter and Paul, in honor of these

blessed Apostles. The fourth, from the day after their festival to the

Assumption, in honor of the Blessed Virgin. The fifth in honor of St.

Michael, from the Assumption to the feast of that angel. The sixth,

from that feast is the first of November, in honor of all the saints.

The seventh, from All-Souls to Christmas, to prepare himself to

celebrate the birth of Christ. The eighth, from the Feast of St. Stephen

to the Epiphany, in honor of the three kings. Thus was his life a

perpetual fast.

When he went abroad he ate whatsoever was put before him, not only to

observe the direction of the Gospel, but in order to gain worldlings

to Jesus Christ, by conforming to their ways; but when in the convent,

he resumed his habits of abstinence, and this mode of life was very

edifying to laymen. The more he advanced towards perfection, the more

he mortified himself. We cannot form a more correct opinion of the

Evangelical hatred he bore his body, than by noticing the terms he

made use of to express it. After having finished Complin, and spent

a considerable time in prayer, in a deserted church, in which he passed

the night, he wished to take some rest. As the evil spirits prevented

him from so doing, by suggestions which frightened him, and made him

tremble, he mustered courage, rose, made the sign of the cross, and

said in a loud voice: "Devils, I declare to you from Almighty God,

that you may use against me all the power given to you by my Lord Jesus

Christ, and do all the harm you can to my body. I am ready to suffer

everything, and assuredly you will oblige me greatly, for this body

is a great burden to me; it is the greatest enemy I have, the most

wicked, and the most crafty; and you will revenge me by so doing."

He exhorted his religious to austerity in their food, in their clothing,

and in everything else. For he was convinced, as was St. Augustine,

that it is difficult to satisfy the demands of the body, without in

some degree sacrificing to sensuality; and he used to say, "Our Saviour

praised St. John the Baptist for his having clothed himself coarsely.

According to the words 'Behold they that are clothed in soft garments,

are in the houses of kings,' soft garments must not be found in the

huts of the poor. I know by experience that the devils fly from those

who lead an austere life; and St. Paul teaches us, that they who are

Christ's have crucified their flesh with its vices and concupiscences."

We remember that he knew how to temper what seemed to be excessive in

the mortifications of his brethren.

Francis taught persons to flee from idleness. "I desire," he said,

"that my brethren may work and be occupied. He who desires to live by

the labor of others, without doing anything, deserves to be nicknamed

Brother _Fly_; because, doing nothing that is worth anything, and

spoiling what is good, he becomes odious and despicable to all the

world." If he came upon any one wandering about, and without occupation,

he applied to him these words of the Apocalypse: "Because thou art

lukewarm, I will begin to vomit thee out of my mouth." His example was

an excellent lesson for not losing time, and fostering the idleness

of the flesh; he employed himself always holily, and he called his

body brother ass, which required to be well worked, to be severely

beaten, and to be badly fed.

Silence was not considered by him to be a small virtue; he considered

it as a guard to the purity of the heart, according to the maxim of

wisdom: "Life and death are in the power of the tongue;" by which he

understood the intemperance of speech, as well as that of taste. But

he principally wished his brethren to become exact in keeping

Evangelical silence, which consists in abstaining from all idle

conversation, of which an account must be rendered at the day of

judgment, and he severely reprimanded those who were in the habit of

saying useless things. In fine, his instruction was, that they should

endeavor to destroy all vice, and to mortify the passions; and that,

in order to succeed in this endeavor, every thing should be cut off

which could serve as an attraction, and, therefore, that the exterior

senses by which death enters into the soul, should be continually

mortified.

As soon as he felt the smallest temptation, or if he only foresaw it,

he took every precaution for resisting it. At the beginning of his

conversion he frequently threw himself in the depth of winter, into

freezing water, in order to subdue his domestic enemy, and to preserve

his robe of innocence without stain, asserting that it is far less

painful to a spiritual man to suffer the rigor of the severest cold,

than to feel interiorly the slightest attack upon his purity.

We have seen, in his life, that he threw himself into the midst of

thorns, to drive away the tempter who wanted to induce him to moderate

his watchings and his prayers. One of his actions, the circumstances

of which are thus related by St. Bonaventure, shows how great the

purity of his heart was, and with what force he resisted the impure

spirit.

One night, while he was at prayer in his cell, at the hermitage of

Sarthiano, he heard himself called three times by his name. After he

had answered, a voice said to him: "There is no sinner in the world

whom God does not pardon if he be converted; but whoever kills himself

by too rigorous a penance, will never find mercy." Francis was made

aware by a revelation that these deceitful words emanated from the old

enemy, who wished to induce him to relax in his austerities, and he

soon had sensible proof of it, for, "he who by his breath sets fire

to coals," as holy Job says, "tempted him strongly to sin against

purity." As soon as he became aware of it, he inflicted a severe

discipline on himself, saying to his body: "O brother ass! this is

what suits you, this is the way in which you should be chastised. The

tunic you wear is that of religion, and is a mark of its holiness. It

is not permitted to one who is impure to wear it: that would be a

theft." As the devil represented to him probably that he might marry

and have children, and have servants to wait upon him, he responded

to that by turning his own body into derision, and treating it cruelly.

With admirable fervor he burst from his cell, and threw himself upon

a large mound of snow; he made seven balls of it with his hands, and

then said to himself: "The largest of these snowballs is thy wife,

four others are thy two sons and two daughters, and the two last are

thy man and thy maid-servants. I must think of clothing them, for they

are perishing with cold." Then he added: "If this solicitude is

overpowering, think hereafter of nothing else than of serving God

fervently." At this the tempter fled, and the Saint returned

victoriously to his cell. He never after had a similar temptation. One

of his brethren, who was at prayer in the garden, saw by the light of

the moon what was going on, and Francis, being aware of it, could not

avoid explaining to him the whole temptation: "But," said he, "I forbid

you strictly from saying a word on the subject during my lifetime."

It was only known after his death.

Those who know how far the scrupulousness of chaste souls will carry

them, will not feel surprised that, after the example of many other

saints, he had put in practice such severe mortification, to shield

himself from the slightest taint on his purity. His lively and agreeable

turn of mind are apparent in the way in which he taunted his body when

suffering from extreme cold; this also shows how much self-possession

he had under the severest trials, and by what sentiment he was actuated

in his penances.

St. Bonaventure says that, as a skilful architect, he laid down

humility for the foundation-stone of his spiritual edifice, and that

it was from Jesus Christ that he had acquired this wisdom. The

foundation was so solid that humility became natural to him, as well

as poverty, and thus it is justly that he is called the humble St.

Francis. He was in the eyes of all a mirror of holiness, but in his

own eyes he was but a sinner; on all occasions he sought to vilify

himself, not only in his own mind, but in that of others.

Upon one occasion Brother Pacificus, while praying with him in a church,

was raised in an ecstasy, and saw several thrones in the heavens, among

which there was one more splendid than the rest, ornamented with

precious stones. As he was pondering for whom this magnificent seat

could be destined, a voice said to him: "This was the seat of an angel,

and now it is reserved for the humble Francis." Some short time after,

when conversing with the Saint, he led to the topic of the knowledge

of one's self, and he asked him what idea he had of himself, upon which

St. Francis answered quickly: "I consider myself the greatest of

sinners." Pacificus maintained that he could not conscientiously either

say so or think so. "I am convinced," replied Francis, "that, if the

most criminal of men had experienced the great mercies I have received

from Jesus Christ, he would be much more grateful for them than I am."

This beautiful effusion confirmed Pacificus in the opinion he had

entertained, that the vision he had seen was a true vision; and it is

quite in accordance with the maxim of the Gospel that, "whosoever shall

exalt himself, shall be humbled; and that he that shall humble himself,

shall be exalted." It is humility that raises men to those places from

whence pride cast down the fallen angels.

We have seen the extraordinary things which Francis did in order to

humble himself; from the same motive he felt no difficulty in making

public the defects he thought he discovered in himself. If he found

himself attacked by any temptation to pride, vain-glory, or any other

sin, he never failed communicating it to those who were present, whether

they were religious or seculars. One day when he was followed by a

great concourse of people, he gave his cloak to a poor woman who had

asked him for an alms, and some minutes after he turned round to the

crowd and told them in a loud voice that he had sinned from vainglory

in so doing. We may imagine that his humility was at that moment very

great, which prevented him from distinguishing between voluntary consent

and the feeling over which we have no control.

He took great care not to do anything in private which he should have

had any hesitation in doing in public, and which was not in conformity

with the opinion people had of his sanctity. His illness rendered it

necessary that he should eat meat in the Lent he kept before Christmas,

but this relaxation consisted only in the use of lard; yet he,

nevertheless, accused himself of it in public, as an act of gluttony.

His companions have recorded what he said: "I wish to live in hermitages

and in other solitary places, as if I was seen by all the world; for,

if people have a great opinion of me, and I were not to live as they

think I do, I should be guilty of scandalous hypocrisy." The vicar of

his convent suggested that he should permit his tunic to be lined with

fox-skins, to keep his chest warm, which his disorder had greatly

weakened. "I consent to this," he replied, "provided you put a similar

set of skins outside, that the world may know the relief which is

inside also." This condition put a stop to the proposition.

Praise mortified him, and he liked that people should blame him, and

he rejoiced in being despised. When he heard people express by

acclamation the merits of his sanctity, he made some of the brethren

say to him, "You are a vulgar man, ignorant and useless in the world,

a nobody;" and when he answered, with pleasure depicted on his

countenance, "May the Lord bless you, my dear child, what you say is

quite true, and is exactly what the son of Peter Bernardo deserves to

hear." To those who called him a saint he used to say: "Do not praise

me; I have no assurance that I shall not sin; a person must never be

praised whose end cannot be known." And he addressed the following

words to himself: "Francis, if the Most High had bestowed so many

favors on a thief as He has on you, he would be much more grateful

than you are."

One day when great honors were paid him, his companion remarking that

he received them without showing any reluctance, said: "Father, do you

not see what they are doing in your honor? and far from refusing to

receive the applause manifested in your regard, as Christian humility

requires, you seem to receive them with complacency. Is there anything

which a servant of the Lord should more sedulously avoid?" This is the

reply which the holy man made him: "Brother, although it may appear

to you that they are paying me great honors, nevertheless, know that

I consider them as little or nothing in comparison to those which ought

to be paid me." His companion was not only surprised, but almost

scandalized, on hearing him utter such sentiments; but, not to expose

his follower, Francis added: "Now be attentive to this, and understand

it properly. I refer to God all the honor which is paid me, I attribute

nothing to myself; on the contrary, I look upon myself as dirt by my

baseness. I am as those figures of wood or stone for which respect is

had. All goes back to what they represent. Now, when men know and honor

God in His creatures, as they do in me, who am the vilest of all, it

is no small profit to their souls."

This is the magnanimous humility of which St. Thomas speaks, by which

a man honors in himself the great gifts of God, permits them to be

there honored, and practises great virtues to render himself more

worthy to receive new ones, while he shrinks from the contemplation

of his own merits. Such was the humble Francis, in permitting, for the

glory of God, and the salvation of his neighbor, that the supernatural

gifts which had been imparted to him, should be honored in his person,

while he himself only considered his own nothingness; and afterwards

he retired into solitary places, where he passed whole nights in

meditating upon this nothingness, and on the infinite mercy of God,

which had loaded him with graces.

Being one day with Brother Leo in one of these solitudes, and being

without the books necessary for saying the Divine Office, he invented

a sort of humiliating psalmody for glorifying God during the night.

"My dear brother," he said to Leo, "we must not let this time, which

is consecrated to God, pass without praising His holy name, and

confessing our own misery. This is the verse which I will say: 'O

Brother Francis! you have committed so many sins in this world, that

you have deserved to be plunged into hell.' And you, Brother Leo, your

response will be, 'It is true; you deserve to be in the bottom of

hell.'" Leo promised, however repugnant he felt, to answer as his

father desired; but, instead of that, he said: "Brother Francis, God

will do so much good through your means, that you will be called into

Paradise." The Father said to him, with warmth: "You don't answer as

you ought. Here is another verse: 'Brother Francis, you have offended

God by so many bad deeds, that you deserve all his maledictions.'

Answer to that: 'You deserve to be among the number of the cursed.'"

Leo promised again; but when the Saint had said his verse, striking

his breast, and shedding abundance of tears, Leo pronounced these

words: "Brother Francis, God will render you such, that, among those

who are blessed, you will receive a peculiar blessing." "Why don't you

answer as I desire you?" said Francis, surprised. "I command you, under

obedience, to repeat the words which I am going to give you. I shall

say: 'O Brother Francis, miserable man, after so many crimes committed

against the Father of mercies, and the God of all consolation, do you

think he will have any pity on me? In truth you are undeserving of

pardon.' Brother Leo, answer immediately: 'You deserve no mercy.'"

Leo, however, said: "God, our Father, whose mercy infinitely surpasses

our sins, will pardon you all your sins, and will load you with His

favors."

Then Francis said somewhat angrily: "Why have you dared to transgress

the rule of obedience, and to answer so often differently to what I

desired?" Leo excused himself most respectfully, saying: "My very dear

Father, God is my witness that I had each time intended to repeat the

words which you had directed me, but He put into my mouth the words

I uttered, and caused me to speak, notwithstanding my resolution,

according to His good pleasure." The humble Servant of Jesus Christ

admired this disposition of the Lord; but persisting, nevertheless,

in his intention of humbling himself, he entreated Brother Leo to

repeat, at least once, the following words, which he pronounced with

many sighs: "Oh Brother Francis, miserable little man! do you think

that God will have mercy on you, after so many crimes which you have

committed?" "Yes, my Father," replied Leo, "God, your Saviour, will

have mercy on you, and will grant you great favors. He will exalt you,

and glorify you eternally, because he who shall humble himself shall

be exalted. Nevertheless, pardon me for not having said what you

desired. It is not I who speak, it is God who speaks in me." Finally

Francis bowed to what Leo communicated to him, who only disobeyed him

by an impulse of the Holy Ghost; and they conversed during the remainder

of the night on the great mercy of God to sinners.

It has been already remarked, with St. Bonaventure, that St. Francis

had given to his brethren the name of Minors, and to their superiors

that of Ministers, in order that their very name should cause them to

be humble. These are the maxims by which he used to impress this upon

them:--"The Son of God debased Himself in coming from the bosom of His

Father to us, to teach us humility by His example and by His word, as

our Lord and Master." "What is exalted in the eyes of man is an

abomination before God." "Man is nothing but what he is before God,

and is nothing more. It is folly to feel glorified by the applause of

man; it is better to be blamed than praised, for blame induces the

person to correct himself, while praise leads to his fall. No man

should pride himself for doing those things which a sinner may do as

well as he. A sinner may fast, pray, weep, macerate his body, but what

he cannot do, as long as he is a sinner, is to be faithful to his God.

Now, this is what we may glory in, to render to God the glory which

is due to Him, to serve Him faithfully, and to return with like fidelity

all that He has given. Happy the servant who finds himself as humble

amidst his brethren, inferiors like himself, as in presence of his

superiors! Happy the servant who does not believe himself better when

men load him with praises, than when he appears in their eyes simple,

vile, abject and despicable! Happy the servant who bears reprimanding

with meekness, who acknowledges his fault with humility, and voluntarily

punishes it; who is sufficiently humble to receive a reprimand without

offering an excuse. Happy the religious who has not been desirous of

the elevation he has attained, and who always wishes to be at the feet

of the others! Woe to the religious who has been raised by the rest

to an honorable position, and who has not the inclination to descend

from it."

The example of Jesus Christ, who "was obedient unto death, even to the

death of the cross," inspired St. Francis with great love for obedience.

Although he was appointed superior by order of God and of the Pope,

he was always desirous of obeying rather than commanding. In his

travels, he promised obedience to him who accompanied him, and he

rigidly kept that promise. One day he communicated the following in

confidence to his companions: "Among all the graces which I have

received from the bounty of God, this is one, that, if they were to

appoint a novice of an hour's standing to be my guardian, I would obey

him as implicitly as if he was the oldest and the most serious of our

brethren." He was not satisfied with having renounced being General

of the Order, to obey the Vicar-General; he asked Brother Elias, who

filled that position to give him a guardian, on whose will he should

depend in all things. Brother Angelo of Rieti was given to him, and

he obeyed him with entire submission.

The instructions he gave his brethren on the subject of obedience

contained all the perfection which could be given them: 1st. To renounce

their own will, and to look upon it as the forbidden fruit, which our

first parents could not eat of without being guilty. 2d. To abandon

themselves wholly to their superior, so that they should neither do

nor say anything which they know he would not approve of; and that

they should do what he wishes the moment he has spoken, without waiting

for his speaking a second time. 3d. Not to examine whether what is

ordered is difficult or impossible, for, said St. Francis: "When I

order anything which is above your strength, holy obedience will enable

you to effect it." 4th. To submit their lights to those of the superior,

not with a view of obeying him in anything manifestly contrary to

salvation, but to act upon his views, although they may think their

own better and more useful. 5th. Not to consider the man, nor his

qualifications, in the obedience they bow to, but the authority he

has, the place he fills, and the greatness of Him for whose love they

are subject to man.

This last point is the greatest sacrifice of a religious life; but a

necessary sacrifice, one which is just, and worthy of God, and the

most certain proof that our obedience is grounded on our love for God.

It is not difficult to follow the dictates of a superior of acknowledged

talent and merit; the hardship is to submit with humility, without

remonstrance or murmur, to one who has not these qualifications. This

also it is which enhances in the eyes of God the value of religious

obedience; it may then be considered as a sort of martyrdom of the

mind, as well as that of the body, which will receive its crown in

heaven. Nevertheless, it is requisite to be cautious, lest antipathy

or some other motive, and the natural revolt of the human heart against

authority, should cause a superior to appear contemptible, who really

is not so. Finally, the religious are highly interested in practicing

holy obedience, whoever may be the superior; it is, as St. Francis

remarks, so abundant in fruits, that such as bend to the yoke pass not

a moment of their lives without some spiritual profit: it increases

virtue, and procures peace to the soul.

He was asked one day, who was to be considered to be truly obedient,

and he instanced a dead body. "Take," said he, "a dead body, and place

it where you please; you will see that it shows no repugnance at its

removal, it utters no complaint at its situation, nor of dissatisfaction

at being left where it is. If you put it in an honorable place, its

eyes will remain closed, it will not raise them. If you clothe it in

purple, it will only be paler than before. That is true obedience; it

asks no reason as to why it is put in motion, it is indifferent as to

where it is placed, and does not require to be removed.--If a Minor

is raised to the dignity of superior, he remains equally humble; the

more he is honored, the more does he think himself unworthy of it. I

have often," he said, "seen a blind man led by a little dog, the man

went wherever his guide took him, in good roads and in bad. This is

another resemblance of one who is perfectly obedient; he should shut

his eyes, and be blind to the commands of his superior, think of nothing

but submitting immediately to him, without stopping to examine whether

the thing be difficult or not, only keeping in view the authority of

him who gives the order, and the merit of obedience."

Disobedience is insupportable; he considered it as the unfortunate

offspring of pride, which is the source of all evils, and of which he

had great horror. One day while praying in his cell, and meditating

between God and his brethren, he saw in spirit one of them who refused

to perform the penance imposed on him in chapter by the vicar-general,

and excusing himself as to the fault of which he had been accused. He

called his companion, and said: "I saw on the shoulders of this

insubordinate brother the devil, who was wringing his neck, and leading

him as by a bridle. I prayed for him, and the devil, abashed, loosed

his hold immediately. Go to him, and tell him to bend immediately to

the yoke of obedience," In fact, the brother did submit as soon as he

was told this, and threw himself humbly at the feet of his superior.

Another, who had erred in some way against obedience, was brought to

Francis, that he might correct him; but he appeared so penitent, that

the Saint, who liked the humility of repentance, felt himself inclined

to pardon the fault. Nevertheless, lest the facility of pardon should

be abused, and to show what chastisement disobedience deserves, he

ordered his cowl to be taken from him, and thrown into the fire. Some

minutes after, he desired it to be taken out of the fire, and to be

returned to him, when it was found that the fire had not injured it

in the least; "God having shown by his miracle," St. Bonaventure

observes, "the power He gave to His Servant, and how agreeable to Him

humble repentance is."

The conduct of the holy Founder was more severe to one of his brethren,

who was obstinately disobedient. He desired the others to put him into

a pit, and to fill it up with earth, in order to bury him alive; when

they had filled it up to his chin he said:--"Brother, are you dead?"

The religious, absorbed in grief, replied: "Yes, Father, and I ought

to die in reality for my sin." Francis, moved by compassion, had him

dug out, saying: "Come forth from thence, if you are truly dead, as

a good religious ought to be, to the world and its concupiscences.

Obey the smallest sign of the will of your superiors, and make no more

resistance to their orders than a dead body could do. I wish for

followers, not living, but those who are dead."

He once called Brother Juniper to employ him a little while, and this

brother not having immediately obeyed, because he was busy in planting

a juniper tree, he cursed the tree that it should never grow, and it

remained always in a dwarf state. The Fathers of the Desert were

similarly exact in their attention to obedience, insomuch as to leave

a letter unfinished when they had to attend to the orders of a superior.

The virtues of St. Francis, which we have recorded, and those which

we have yet to narrate, were cultivated by the exercise of prayer. He

had the gift as soon as he was called to the service of God; and he

followed it up so faithfully, that he consecrated to it his heart, his

body, all his actions, and all his time. In-doors, or out of doors,

walking or seated, working or resting, his mind was always raised to

heaven; he seemed to live with the angels. As he was always diffident

of himself, he had recourse to prayer, and consulted the Almighty,

with perfect confidence in His goodness, in all that He had to do.

Although he could pray in any place he might happen to be in,

nevertheless, he found solitary spots best adapted for recollection;

he sought them out, and often retired to them. This shows us why he

made so many houses of his Order, where there had previously been

hermitages only.

Careful in attending to the interior calls of the Holy Spirit, if he

perceived one coming on, he let his companions go forward, and stopped,

not to receive it in vain, and to enjoy it to its full extent. When

he prayed in community, he avoided all exterior signs, which might

discover the secret dispositions of his mind, because he loved secrecy.

He did not find the precaution difficult, because he was wholly absorbed

in his interior, and united himself so intimately to God, that he was

almost without exterior motion. If it happened that he was surprised

by a visit from heaven in the presence of his brethren, he had always

something ready to propose to them, to take off their attention. When

he returned from prayer, in which he had been marvellously transformed,

he strove to conform himself to his brethren, lest what they might

perceive might draw from them applause, which would deprive him of his

reward by inspiring him with vanity.

But in the solitudes he was under no restraint, and gave his heart

entire liberty. The woods resounded with his sacred sighs and laments,

the earth was moistened with his tears, and he struck his breast with

violence. Sometimes he addressed himself to God as to his Sovereign

Lord; sometimes he spoke to Him as to his Judge; sometimes he prayed

to Him as to his Father; and at other times, he conversed with Him as

a friend converses with his Friend. He solicited the pardon of sinners

with loud and energetic exclamations; and he expressed his horror at

the Passion of Jesus Christ in loud laments, as if he had been present

at it. All this was seen and heard by some one or other of his

companions, who had the pardonable curiosity to watch his proceedings.

The devils tormented him severely during his prayers, and that in a

very sensible manner, as St. Bonaventure informs us; but, protected

by celestial aid, he continued his prayers with additional fervor, in

proportion to the efforts they made to distract him.

God favored him with the gift of contemplation in a sublime degree.

His companions bear witness that they have often seen him in a state

of ecstasy, in which he had lost all the use of his senses, and in

which all the powers of his soul were suspended. Once they saw him,

during the night, raised from the ground, and his arms extended in the

shape of a cross, surrounded by a luminous cloud, as if to betoken the

Divine light which filled his mind. St. Bonaventure says that they had

efficient proof that God at such times revealed to him some of the

great secrets of His wisdom; but His faithful Servant only made such

parts of them known as were for the glory of his Master, or the utility

of his neighbor.

One of his brethren, not finding him one evening in his cell, went to

look for him in the wood. Having penetrated a short distance into it,

he heard him praying, with loud cries, for the salvation of men, and

addressing the Blessed Virgin with moving sighs, humbly imploring her

to show him her Son. He then saw the Blessed Mother of God descend

from Heaven, with great splendor, and place her Son into the arms of

Francis, who received Him as Simeon had received Him in the temple of

Jerusalem, with the profoundest respect; he caressed the Infant most

tenderly, entreating Him for the conversion of sinners, and the

salvation of the world. At this sight the religious fell on the ground,

half dead, and remained on the spot where he fell. Here the Saint found

him, as he was returning to the convent for Matins; he brought him to

himself from this fainting, but strictly forbade him from telling any

one what had occurred; but he, thinking it for the glory of God not

to be obliged to obey in this instance, communicated the marvel to all

the others.

A novice whom the holy Patriarch had received, and whom he was taking

to the convent of the novitiate, wished to know what he did during the

night. In order to succeed, he tied his cord to that of the Father,

whom he saw asleep in the fields, in which they had been obliged to

remain, and laid himself down near him, in order that he might be

roused as soon as he should stir. A few hours afterwards, Francis

wished to get up, but finding himself fastened by the cord, he untied

the knot, and went to pray under some neighboring trees. The novice,

not finding him when he awoke, went to seek him under the trees. A

celestial light caused him to draw near a spot, where he stopped, and

from whence he saw Jesus Christ, surrounded by angels, His Blessed

Mother, and John the Baptist, who were in conversation with him. His

astonishment made him fall on the ground, where he remained till

Francis, to whom God had imparted the circumstances, came and raised

him up, and restored him to his senses, forbidding him to speak of the

vision. The young man, who continued to live very holily, kept the

secret; but, after Francis's death, he published what he had seen.

God chose that his Servant should be respected in the secret retirements

to which he went to pray, and that he should not be disturbed at those

times. The Bishop of Assisi knew this by his own experience. One day,

when he had come to the Convent of Portiuncula, as he frequently did,

he wished to go at once into the cell where the Saint was at prayer;

but scarcely had he seen him in that attitude, when he was pushed back

by an invisible hand, his body became stiff, and he was unable to

speak. Much astonished at this accident, he made his way back, as well

as he could, to the other brethren; God restored his voice, and he

made use of it, to acknowledge that he had committed a fault. The

Celestial Spouse, in the Canticles, conjures the daughters of Jerusalem,

"not to awaken her whom he loves, and not to disturb her repose until

she awakes of her own accord." St. Bernard, on this, says that such

as are given to prayer should not be troubled about useless affairs,

and that those who disturb them when they are conversing with God,

become enemies of heaven.

In consequence of the knowledge which Francis had of the sweets and

fruits of mental prayer, he constantly urged his brethren to practise

it, and they profited so fully by his instructions, that most of them

became spiritual and contemplative men. "A religious," he said, "must

principally desire to acquire the spirit of prayer. I believe that,

without this, peculiar favors cannot be obtained from God, nor any

great progress made in His service. When one is sorrowful and uneasy,

he should have immediate recourse to prayer, and remain before his

Heavenly Father, until such time as the joy of salvation is restored

to him. If one remains in this state of depression and disturbance,

this disposition, which comes from Babylon, will increase, and produce

rust, unless it be purified by tears."

He taught them to shun the tumult of the world, and to seek for solitary

places in which to pray, because he knew that the Holy Ghost

communicates Himself more intimately to souls in such places; but he

recommended them to be perfectly secret as to the favors they might

receive; his maxim being, that a slender human communication often

causes the loss of that which is of inestimable value, and has the

effect of preventing the Lord from again communicating what He had

previously given; that when one is visited by God, he should say: "It

is Thou, O Lord! who hast sent me this consolation from Heaven,--to

me who am a sinner, wholly unworthy of thy bounty. I commit it back

to Thy keeping; for I feel myself capable of stealing Thy treasure

from Thee;" and when he returns from prayer, he should show as much

humility and self-contempt as if he had received no peculiar favor.

All the masters of spiritual life have had similar opinions of the

value of mental prayer as this contemplative Saint, and they have

pointed out the necessity of it for advancing in the ways of virtue.

St. Teresa wrote so sublimely on this practice, that the Church prays

to God that "her Heavenly doctrine may be our nourishment." She declares

that she was near being lost, from having given it up, but that our

Lord had done her the signal favor to urge her to resume it; she exhorts

all to apply themselves to it, even should they make but small progress

in it, because it is always useful, and, if persevered in, will be

attended with great benefit. This is what directors might represent

to those who seriously wish to attend to their salvation, and to say

to them, with the same saint, that "mental prayer is nothing else but

holding friendly intercourse with God, often remaining alone in

conversation with Him, who, we know, loves us."

The practice of mental prayer no way diminished the zeal of St. Francis

for vocal prayer, which every Christian ought to resort to as he did.

Vocal prayer was practised and taught by Jesus Christ; the Church

employs it in her public worship. "We require it," says St. Austin,

"to assist our memory and understanding, and to animate our fervor;

finally, God desires that we should offer to Him "a sacrifice of

praise," and that it shall be "the fruits of our lips and hearts,

giving glory to His name," because our body and soul belong to Him.

Piety had inspired the holy man to compose vocal prayers on various

subjects, which he often repeated, and some of which he recited daily.

He said the Lord's Prayer, with particular devotion, weighing all the

words, and meditating on the sense they contain, as is seen by the

paraphrase of it he composed, and which we think it useful to insert

at length:

"'Our Father,' most happy and most holy, our Creator, our Redeemer,

and our Consoler. 'Who art in Heaven;' in the angels, in the saints,

in the illuminated, in order that they may know Thee, who inflamest

them by Thy love; for, O Lord! Thou are the Light and the Love who

dwellest in them, and Thou art their Beatitude by satiating them: Thou

art the Sovereign and Eternal Good, from whom all good proceeds, and

without Thee there is no other good. 'Hallowed be Thy name:' in order

thus to make Thyself known to us by vivid lights, so that we may see

the full extent of Thy bounty, the duration of Thy promises, the

sublimity of Thy majesty, and the depth of Thy judgment. 'Thy Kingdom

come:' in order that Thou mayest reign in us by grace, and that Thou

mayest bring us to Thy Kingdom, where Thou art clearly and perfectly

loved, where we become happy in Thy society, and where Thou art

eternally enjoyed. 'Thy will be done on earth as it is in Heaven:' in

order that we may love Thee 'with our whole hearts,' thinking always

of Thee 'with our whole soul,' ever longing for Thee, 'with all our

mind,' referring to Thee all our views, seeking Thy glory in all things;

'with all our strength,' employing in Thy service, for Thy love, all

the strength,' of our bodies and souls, without making any other use

of them; that we may love our neighbor as ourselves, using all our

efforts to draw them to Thy love; rejoicing in all the good that happens

to them, as if it was our own; being grieved at any ills which may

befall them, and giving offence to none. 'Give us this day our daily

bread:' it is Thy beloved Son, Jesus Christ; we ask Thee for Him, in

order to remind us of the love He has shown us, and of what He has

said, done and endured for us; we ask Thee to make us fully comprehend

these things, and cause us to revere them. 'Forgive us our trespasses,'

by Thy infinite mercy, by the passion of Thy beloved Son, our Lord

Jesus Christ, by the merits and intercession of the Blessed Virgin

Mary, and of all the elect. 'As we forgive them that trespass against

us:' what may be not altogether remitted on our part, grant us the

favor, O Lord! to remit entirely, in order that, for love of Thee, we

may sincerely love our enemies, and may intercede for them fervently

at Thy throne; that we may not render to any one evil for evil, and

that in Thee we may endeavor to do good to all. 'And lead us not into

temptation,' hidden, manifest, sudden, grievous. 'But deliver us from

evil:', past, present, and to come. Amen: willingly and gratuitously"

These two words show that he ardently desired what he prayed for; and

that it was purely for the glory of God, without any temporal interest.

He recited the Divine Offices with a devotion full of respect, and

with great fervor. St. Bonaventure says that, although he suffered

greatly from pains in his head, from his stomach, and from his liver,

he never leant while reciting it; that he stood during the whole time,

with his head uncovered, his eyes looking down. In travelling, he

always stopped to say it; however much it might rain, he never omitted

this pious practice, and he gave this reason for it: "If the body

rests, in order to take its food, which will, as well as himself, soon

become the food of worms, with how much tranquillity ought the soul

to take its spiritual nourishment, which is to cause it to live

eternally!"

The verse, Gloria Patri, etc., made a lively impression on his heart;

once he repeated it in thankfulness to God for His bounty after each

verse of the Magnificat, which Brother Leo was reciting, and he exhorts

all to say it frequently. A lay brother, who was strongly tempted to

apply himself to study, having come to ask his permission, was told:

"My dear Brother, learn the Gloria Patri, and you will know the whole

of the Holy Scriptures."--The brother obeyed, and had no further

temptation on that head.

The distractions which his lively imagination caused him during the

holy exercises, appeared to him to be great faults, and he never failed

to confess them, and to expiate them by penance, asserting that we

ought to be ashamed of being distracted by trifles when speaking to

the great King. Once during Tierce, the thought of a little vase which

he had made came into his head, and called off his attention; he

immediately went and took it, and threw it into the fire, saying: "I

will sacrifice it to the Lord, whose sacrifice it has hindered." But

he acquired the habit of reciting the Office so attentively, that this

sort of distractions seldom importuned him.

His application was equally strong and respectful in reciting the

psalms, as if God had been present in a sensible manner; and he found

so much sweetness in the name of God, that he seemed to have the taste

of sweetness on his lips, after having pronounced it. Thus the Prophet

said to the Lord: "How sweet are thy words to my palate! more than

honey to my mouth." Francis had also an interior joy in pronouncing

the holy name of Jesus, which communicated itself to his exterior, and

produced on his senses a similar effect as if he had tasted something

agreeable to his palate, or heard some harmonious sounds.

He desired that all the holy names should be peculiarly reverenced,

not only when people thought of them, or pronounced them, but whenever

they saw them written. This is the reason why, in his last will, he

recommends his brethren to pick them up should they find them scattered

about in unseemly places, and put them in a better locality, lest they

should be disrespectfully trampled upon. This must be considered not

as a mere nicety of feeling, but as a sentiment inspired by faith,

which teaches us to venerate the word of God. If a great bishop has

thought it proper to compare the abuse of the sacred word, when it is

announced, to the profanation of the Body itself of Jesus Christ, may

we not, in the same spirit, say that he who permits that word to be

trampled upon when it is written, becomes in some measure as guilty

as if he had allowed the Sacred Body of our Saviour to be treated with

similar indignity?

It was the love of God which gave St. Francis so much zeal for mental

prayer, as well as for that which is vocal. He sought his Beloved,

from whom he was only separated by the wall of his flesh. To be present

to Him in spirit, and to contemplate Him, were his sole consolations,

and his anxiety to gain these was intense. But then the frequent

exercise of prayer increased his love, and inflamed it to that degree,

that St. Bonaventure does not think it possible to find words to express

it. This Divine charity penetrated his whole interior, as fire

penetrates a burning coal. Only by hearing the term of the love of God

pronounced, he was moved and inflamed, and this movement made the

affections of his soul thrill, as the strings of a musical instrument

sound on being touched.

To incite himself more and more to the love of God, he made use of all

creatures, as of so many mirrors, in which he viewed the Supreme Reason,

the Sovereign Beauty, and the Principle of being and of life. They

were for him as so many steps by which he raised and united himself

to the object of his love, as so many streamlets in which he tasted,

with inconceivable unction, the Infinite Purity of the source from

whence all that is good is derived; so many delightful strains whose

harmony resounded on his ears, and which, as David in his psalms, he

invited to praise and glorify Him who had given them their being.

Wholly inflamed with love, he prayed to be enabled to love still more,

and he addressed the following prayer to God, which is found among his

works: "Grant, O Lord! that the mild vehemence of Thy ardent love may

separate me from everything which is under Heaven, and may consume me

entirely, in order that I may die for the love of Thy love, since it

was for the love of my love that Thou didst deign to die. I solicit

this through Thyself, O Son of God! who livest and reignest with the

Father and the Holy Ghost for ever and ever. Amen."

And here is another, which he used to say every day: "My God and my

All, who art Thou, O sweet Lord! and who am I, Thy servant, a miserable

worm? I wish to love Thee, most holy Lord, I wish to love Thee. O God!

I have consecrated to Thee my heart and my body. If I had the means

of doing more for Thee, I would do it, and I ardently wish I had the

means."

This poor Evangelical could not give more to God than his body and

soul. He continually offered the sacrifice of his body, by the rigor

of his fasts, and that of his soul, by the vehemence of his desires;

"by which," says St. Bonaventure, "he conformed in a spiritual manner

to the practice of the Old Law, which was to offer holocausts out of

the tabernacle, and to burn incense within it."

The sacrifice of his desires went to a great extent. For the love of

God he had renounced all the things of this earth; he had stripped

himself of everything; he had embraced the severest poverty, and

practised the most austere penitential life; he had devoted himself

to the ministry of preaching, and to the establishment of his Order;

his life was but a course of labors and fatigue, but he reckoned all

that as nothing; he wished to do much more, to mortify himself more

rigorously, to forward thereby the glory of God, because, according

to the words of our Saviour, this is the greatest mark of love which

a friend can give to his friend. This was the motive of the ardent

desire he had to endure martyrdom, and of the three voyages he undertook

in search of it; seeing that he could not succeed, he lowered his views

to wishing for and soliciting grace to know what he could do, to testify

his love for God. The Lord granted his desire, favoring him with the

impression of His five wounds, which rendered him a living and, at the

same time, an expiring martyr; but it inflamed his heart to such a

degree, that then he wished to die for love, and to be absorbed in the

love of Him whom he loved.

Inflamed with divine love, he endeavored to spread the fire on all

sides. He often made it the subject of his discourses, and it was

usually the motive he employed to animate his brethren to the practice

of virtue. When he proposed anything that was difficult to them, such

as to go about soliciting alms, "Go," he would say, "and ask it for

the love of God." He found a noble prodigality in asking it for that

motive, and he thought those demented who preferred money to the love

of God, the price of which is incalculable, and sufficient to purchase

the Kingdom of Heaven, and which the love of Him who has so loved us

must make infinitely dear to us. They were surprised one day to find

that he could bear the severity of winter in so miserable a habit as

that which he wore, and, full of fervor, he gave this reason, which

contains a very useful lesson; "If we were inwardly inflamed with a

longing for our celestial country, we should easily bear exterior

cold." It was his wish that a Friar Minor should love God with an

effective, liberal, and generous love, which should enable him to

suffer calmly and joyfully pain and opprobrium for the object of his

love. This is what he said one day to Brother Leo, on the subject, in

a conversation which Leo himself has recorded at full length: "If a

Friar Minor had a clear and distinct knowledge of the course of the

stars, and of all other things in the universe; if he possessed all

the sciences, all the languages, and a perfect knowledge of the Holy

Scriptures; and if he spoke with the tongues of angels, cast out devils,

performed all sorts of miracles, even that of raising one from the

dead who had been four days in the tomb; if he had the gift of prophecy,

and that of discerning the affections of the heart; if he preached to

the infidels with such success as to convert them all, and if he should

edify the world by his sanctity, all that would not be to him the

subject of perfect and true joy."

Afterwards, to show in what this true joy consisted, he proposed a

supposition, similar to one he had made on another subject, and very

like to the hypothesis of St. Paul: "Who shall separate us from the

love of Jesus Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or famine, or

nakedness, or persecution, or the sword?" From which he concluded,

that all that there is in Heaven or on earth could not separate him

from the love of God, which is grounded on Jesus Christ, our Lord.

"Suppose," said St. Francis, "that we were to arrive at the Convent

of St. Mary of the Angels very wet, covered with mud, perishing with

cold, dying of hunger, and that the porter, instead of letting us in,

were to leave us at the gate in this pitiable state, saying angrily,

'You are a couple of idle vagabonds, who stroll about the world, and

receive the alms which the real poor ought to get.' If we bear this

treatment with patience, without being discomposed, and without

murmuring; if even we think humbly and charitably that the porter knows

us well for what we are, and that it is by God's leave that he behaves

thus to us, mark this down as perfect joy."

"Suppose, moreover, that we continue to knock at the door, and that

the porter, considering us importunate, should come out and give us

some severe boxes on the ears, and say, 'Get along, scoundrels, go to

the hospital, there is nothing for you to eat here.' If we bear all

these things patiently, and we pardon him from our hearts, and with

charity, note, this would be a subject for perfect joy."

"Let us, in fine, suppose, that in this extremity the cold, hunger,

and the night, compel us to entreat, with tears and cries to be allowed

to enter the convent, and that the porter, in great irritation, darts

out with a stick full of knobs, takes us by the cowl, throws us down

in the snow, and beats us till we are quite covered with bruises:--if

we bear all this ill usage with joy, with the thought that we ought

to participate in the sufferings of our Blessed Saviour Jesus Christ,

note this, and note it carefully, that this is, for a Friar Minor, the

subject of a true and perfect joy."

"Now hear the conclusion of all this. Amongst all the gifts of the

Holy Ghost, which Jesus Christ has granted and will grant to His

servants, the most considerable is, that of conquering one's self, and

of suffering pain and opprobrium for the love of God, in order to

respond to the love He has for us. In all the miraculous gifts which

I have noticed, there is not one from which we may derive so much

glory; we have no share in it, it is all from God; we only receive

what He gives us, and, as St. Paul says, 'If thou hast received, why

dost thou glory, as if thou hadst not received it?' But we have our

share in the tribulations which we suffer for the love of God, and we

may make it a subject of glory, as the same Apostle has said: 'God

forbid that I should glory save in the Cross of our Lord Jesus Christ.'"