He was once asked to visit in prison a poor criminal already condemned to
death, but who could not be induced to make his confession. The unhappy man
had committed crimes so terrible that he despaired of the forgiveness even
of God, and having often during his lifetime met death face to face in
battle and in duels, he appeared to be quite ready again to meet it boldly;
nay, so hardened was he by the devil that he even spoke calmly of hell, as
of the abode destined for him for eternity.
Our Blessed Father finding him in this frame of mind, and altogether cold,
hard, and reckless, proclaiming himself the prey of Satan and a victim
prepared for hell, thus addressed him: "My brother, would you not rather be
the prey of God and a victim of the Cross of Jesus Christ?" "What," cried
the criminal, "do you think that God would have anything to do with a
victim as repulsive as I am?"
"Oh, God!" was the silent prayer of Blessed Francis, "remember Thine
ancient mercies and the promise which Thou hast made never to quench
utterly the smoking flax nor wholly to break the bruised reed. Thou who
wiliest not the death of the sinner, but rather that he should be converted
and live, make happy the last moments of this poor soul."
Then he spoke aloud replying to the despairing words of the poor wretch,
for, horrifying though they were, they had proved to the skilled workman
that there was something left to work upon, that faith in God was not yet
wholly dead in that poor heart. "At any rate, would you not rather abandon
yourself to God than to the evil one?" "Most assuredly," replied the
criminal, "but it is a likely thing indeed that' God would have anything
to do with a man like me!" "It was for men like you," returned the Bishop,
"that the Eternal Father sent His Son into the world, nay for worse than
you, even for Judas and for the miscreants who crucified Him. Jesus Christ
came to save not the just, but sinners."
"But," cried the other, "can you assure me that it would not be presumption
on my part to have recourse to His mercy?" "It would be great presumption,"
replied our Saint, "to think that His mercy was not infinite, far above all
sins not only possible but conceivable, and that His redemption was not so
plentiful, but that it could make grace superabound where sin had poured
forth a flood of evils. On the contrary, His mercy, which is over all His
works, and which always overrides His justice, becomes so much the greater
the greater the mountain of our sins.
"Upon that very mountain he sets up the throne of His mercy." With words
such as these, kindling, or rather re-animating the spark of faith not yet
wholly dead in the soul of the wretched man, he relighted the flame of
hope, which up to that moment was quite extinguished, and little by little
softened and tamed the man's natural temper, rendered savage by despair. He
led him on at last to resignation, and persuaded him to cast himself into
the arms of God for death and for life; to deal with him according to His
own good pleasure, for his whole future in this world, or in the next.
"But He will damn me," said the man, "for He is just." "No, He will pardon
you," replied Blessed Francis, "if you cry to Him for mercy, for He is
merciful and has promised forgiveness to whoever implores it of Him with a
humble and contrite heart." "Well," replied the criminal, "let Him damn me
if he pleases--I am His. He can do with me what the potter does with his
clay." "Nay," replied the holy Bishop, "say rather with David, _I am Thine,
O Lord, save me_." Not to make the story too long, I may tell you that the
holy Bishop brought this man to confession, repentance, and contrition, and
that he died with great constancy, sincerely acknowledging his sins and
abandoning himself entirely to the most holy will of God. The last words
which our Blessed Father made him utter were these: "O Jesus, I give myself
up to Thee--I abandon myself wholly to Thee."