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the second, it was to become the true cradle of the Franciscan movement.

This chapel, still standing at the present day after escaping revolutions and earthquakes, is a true Bethel, one of those rare spots in the world on which rests the mystic ladder which joins heaven to earth; there were dreamed some of the noblest dreams which have soothed the pains of humanity. It is not to Assisi in its marvellous basilica that one must go to divine and comprehend St. Francis; he must turn his steps to Santa Maria degli Angeli at the hours when the stated prayers cease, at the moment when the evening shadows lengthen, when all the fripperies of worship disappear in the obscurity, when all the nation seems to collect itself to listen to the chime of the distant church bells. Doubtless it was Francis's plan to settle there as a hermit. He dreamed of passing his life there in meditation and silence, keeping up the little church and from time to time inviting a priest there to say mass. Nothing as yet suggested to him that he was in the end to become a religious founder. One of the most interesting aspects of his life is in fact the continual development revealing itself in him; he is of the small number to whom to live is to be active, and to be active to make progress. There is hardly anyone, except St. Paul, in whom is found to the same degree the devouring need of being always something more, always something better, and it is so beautiful in both of them only because it is absolutely instinctive.

When he began to restore the Portiuncula his projects hardly went beyond a very narrow horizon; he was preparing himself for a life of penitence rather than a life of activity. But these works once finished it was impossible that this somewhat selfish and passive manner of achieving his own salvation should satisfy him long. At the memory of the appearance of the Crucified One his heart would swell with overpowering emotions, and he would melt into tears without knowing whether they were of admiration, pity, or desire.[28]

When the repairs were finished meditation occupied the greater part of his days. A Benedictine of the Abbey of Mont Subasio[29] came from time to time to say mass at Santa Maria; these were the bright hours of St. Francis's life. One can imagine with what pious care he prepared himself and with what faith he listened to the divine teachings.

One day, it was probably February 24, 1209, the festival of St. Matthias, mass was being celebrated at the Portiuncula.[30] When the priest turned toward him to read the words of Jesus, Francis felt himself overpowered with a profound agitation. He no longer saw the priest; it was Jesus, the Crucified One of St. Damian, who was speaking: "Wherever ye go, preach, saying, 'The kingdom of heaven is at hand. Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils. Freely ye have received, freely give. Provide neither silver nor gold nor brass in your purses, neither scrip nor two coats, nor shoes nor staff, for the laborer is worthy of his meat.'"

These words burst upon him like a revelation, like the answer of Heaven to his sighs and anxieties.

"This is what I want," he cried, "this is what I was seeking; from this day forth I shall set myself with all my strength to put it in practice." Immediately throwing aside his stick, his scrip, his purse, his shoes, he determined immediately to obey, observing to the letter the precepts of the apostolic life.

It is quite possible that some allegorizing tendencies have had some influence upon this narrative.[31] The long struggle through which Francis passed before becoming the apostle of the new times assuredly came to a crisis in the scene at Portiuncula; but we have already seen how slow was the interior travail which prepared for it.

The revelation of Francis was in his heart; the sacred fire which he was to communicate to the souls of others came from within his own, but the best causes need a standard. Before the shabby altar of the Portiuncula he had perceived the banner of poverty, sacrifice, and love, he would carry it to the assault of every fortress of sin; under its shadow, a true knight of Christ, he would marshal all the valiant warriors of a spiritual strife.


FOOTNOTES:

[1] 3 Soc., 26.

[2] 3 Soc., 10.

[3] This crucifix is preserved in the sacristy of Santa Chiara,
whither the sisters carried it when they left St. Damian.

[4] Opuscula B. Francisci, Oratio I.

[5] 3 Soc., 13; 2 Cel., 1, 6; Bon., 12; 15; 16.

[6] 3 Soc., 14.

[7] This incident is found in the narrative of 1 Cel., 8: Ibi
ex more venditis .

[8] 1 Cel., 8; 3 Soc., 16; Bon. 16. Foligno is a three hours'
walk from Assisi.

[9] 1 Cel., 9; 3 Soc., 16; Bon., 6. Cf. A. SS., p. 567.

[10] 1 Cel., 10; 3 Soc., 16; Bon., 17, A. SS.; p. 568.

[11] 1 Cel., 11.

[12] 1 Cel., 12; 3 Soc., 17; Bon., 18.

[13] 1 Cel., 13; 3 Soc., 18.

[14] 1 Cel., 13. It is possible that at this epoch he had
received the lesser order, and that thus he might be subject to
the jurisdiction of the Church.

[15] 3 Soc., 18 and 19; 1 Cel., 14; Bon., 19.

[16] From 1204 until after the death of St. Francis the
episcopal throne of Assisi was occupied by Guido II. Vide
Cristofano, 1, 169 ff.

[17] Piazza di Santa Maria Maggiore o del vescovado.
Everything has remained pretty nearly in the same state as in
the thirteenth century.

[18] 1 Cel., 15; 3 Soc., 20; Bon., 20.

[19] 3 Soc., 16; Bon., 21.

[20] 1 Cel., 16; Bon., 21. The curious will read with interest
an article by M. Mezzatinti upon the journey to Gubbio entitled
S. Francesco e Frederico Spadalunga da Gubbio . [Miscellanea,
t. v., pp. 76-78.] This Spadalunga da Gubbio was well able to
give a garment to Francis, but it is very possible that the gift
was made much later and that this solemn date in the saint's
life has been fixed by an optical illusion, almost inevitable
because of the identity of the fact with the name of the
locality.

[21] 1 Cel., 17; Bon., 11; 13; 21; 22; 3 Soc., 11; A. SS., p.
575.

[22] 1 Cel., 18; 3 Soc., 21; Bon., 23.

[23] 3 Soc., 22; 2 Cel., 1, 9.

[24] 3 Soc., 24; 2 Cel., 8; Spec. , 24.

[25] 3 Soc., 23; 2 Cel., 7.

[26] 3 Soc., 24; Testament de Claire , Wadding, ann. 1253 v.

[27] Cel., 21; Bon., 24.

[28] 3 Soc., 14; 2 Cel., i., 6.

[29] Portiuncula was a dependence of this abbey.

[30] This is the date adopted by the Bollandists, because the
ancient missals mark the pericope, Matt. x., for the gospel of
this day. This entails no difficulty and in any case it cannot
be very far distant from the truth. A. SS., p. 574.

[31] See in particular Bon., 25 and 26. Cf. A. SS., p. 577d.

* * * * *


CHAPTER V

FIRST YEAR OF APOSTOLATE

Spring of 1209-Summer of 1210


The very next morning Francis went up to Assisi and began to preach. His words were simple, but they came so straight from the heart that all who heard him were touched.

It is not easy to hear and apply to one's self the exhortations of preachers who, aloft in the pulpit, seem to be carrying out a mere formality; it is just as difficult to escape from the appeals of a layman who walks at our side. The amazing multitude of Protestant sects is due in a great degree to this superiority of lay preaching over clerical. The most brilliant orators of the Christian pulpit are bad converters; their eloquent appeals may captivate the imagination and lead a few men of the world to the foot of the altar, but these results are not more brilliant than ephemeral. But let a peasant or a workingman speak to those whom he meets a few simple words going directly to the conscience, and the man is always impressed, often won.

Thus the words of Francis seemed to his hearers like a flaming sword penetrating to the very depths of their conscience. His first attempts were the simplest possible; in general they were merely a few words addressed to men whom he knew well enough to recognize their weak points and strike at them with the holy boldness of love. His person, his example, were themselves a sermon, and he spoke only of that which he had himself experienced, proclaiming repentance, the shortness of life, a future retribution, the necessity of arriving at gospel perfection.[1] It is not easy to realize how many waiting souls there are in this world. The greater number of men pass through life with souls asleep. They are like virgins of the sanctuary who sometimes feel a vague agitation; their hearts throb with an infinitely sweet and subtile thrill, but their eyelids droop; again they feel the damp cold of the cloister creeping over them; the delicious but baneful dream vanishes; and this is all they ever know of that love which is stronger than death.

It is thus with many men for all that belongs to the higher life. Sometimes, alone in the wide plain at the hour of twilight, they fix their eyes on the fading lights of the horizon, and on the evening breeze comes to them another breath, more distant, fainter, and almost heavenly, awaking in them a nostalgia for the world beyond and for holiness. But the darkness falls, they must go back to their homes; they shake off their reverie; and it often happens that to the very end of life this is their only glimpse of the Divine; a few sighs, a few thrills, a few inarticulate murmurs--this sums up all
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