CHAPTER V.
Francis' Call.
"Oh, my Lord, the Crucified,
Who for love of me hast died,
Mould me by Thy living breath,
To the likeness of Thy death,
While the thorns Thy brows entwine,
Let no flower wreath rest on mine."
But Francis kept a listening ear. God's word was his law, and though he to a certain extent planned what he would do next, yet he left himself entirely free in his Lord's hands, and at His disposal. Had he not remained in this attitude of soul, or had he become wise in his own conceits, or failed to keep his heart and soul fresh with the first vital freshness of regeneration, what would have become of the great Franciscan movement that was destined ultimately to stir the world? God alone knows. He keeps count of lost opportunities, calls neglected, soul stirrings lulled to barren fruitless slumber!
The natural tendency of a soul which has been awakened to great action, and accomplished daring feats, is—the first strain passed—to relax, or settle down. It is only the minority that struggle and fight and get the victory over this subtle temptation. The same principle applies in a larger scale, and that is why it is so many glorious religious movements have run a course and then dwindled into mediocrity, the later disciples carving for themselves a medium way.
Francis' life-work might easily have dwindled into nothing just here. He had not the least intimation that the Lord demanded anything more of him but that he should love and serve Him all the days of his life, in an ordinary unobtrusive manner. Two years had been spent in repairing the churches, and Francis was now between twenty-seven and twenty-eight years of age.
His Commission.
It was on the twenty-fourth of February in the year 1209 that he received his call to direct spiritual work. That morning he went to church as usual, and the words of the Gospel for the day came to him direct from Jesus Christ Himself.
"Wherever ye go preach, saying, 'The Kingdom of Heaven is at hand. Heal the sick, cleanse the lepers, cast out devils. Freely ye have received, freely give. Provide neither silver nor gold nor brass in your purses, neither scrip, nor two coats, nor shoes, nor staff, for the laborer is worthy of his hire.'"
These words were a revelation.
"This is what I want," cried Francis, as he left the church, conscious for the first time that he had wanted something. "This is what I have long been seeking, from this day forth I shall set myself with all my strength to put it in practice."
Immediately he took up his new commission. He threw away his shoes, his stick, his purse, and put on the coarse dress of the peasant of the Apennines, and girded it with a rough piece of rope, the first thing he could find. Thus equipped, he set out a true Knight of our Lord Jesus Christ, and for the first time in his life began to talk to the people he met about their souls. That eloquent fiery tongue, that was destined to make him one of the orators of the age, had not yet become unloosed, and Francis was simplicity itself. Indeed, he did not at first attempt to make anything like a speech or sermon. His efforts were directed towards people whom he was acquainted with, and these he urged to repent in the name of the Lord. He told his own experience, and spoke of the shortness of life, of punishment after death, of the need of heart and life holiness. His halting words struck home, they pierced like a sword, and many thus convicted, repented and turned from their evil ways.
A Sanctified Leader of Men.
For over two years now, Francis had lived a solitary, and—humanly speaking—a lonely life. He had, however, during that time proved the sufficiency of God. We do not read that he ever longed for a human friend, one that could understand and sympathise with him, so richly had God supplied his every need. But the time had come when his solitude was to end. God was about to raise him up friends. Again he was to take up his old position as a leader of men, only a sanctified one.
Bernardo di Quintavelle was a man of birth and position. He was a few years older than Francis, and as he lived in Assisi, he had full opportunity of watching all Francis' vagaries, for so his actions looked to him at first. However, as time passed, and Francis' supposed mania failed to develop into anything very dangerous, Bernardo puzzled and wondered. What was it, he asked himself, that had so completely changed the gay, frivolous, ease-loving Francis Bernardone, into a poor hard-working beggar? Was he really as good and holy as the common people began to whisper to themselves? We must bear in mind that vital religion in Assisi was at its lowest ebb, and the kind that worked itself out in daily life and action almost unknown.
Pretty soon Bernardo determined to study Francis close to. Again and again he invited him to his house, and the more he saw of the gracious, humble, God-fearing, Francis, the more he liked him. One night he asked him to stay till the next day, and Francis consenting, he had a bed made up for him in his own room. They retired. In a short time Bernardo was, to all appearances, extremely sound asleep. Then Francis rose from his bed, and kneeling down began to pray. A deep sense of the Divine presence overflowed him, and he could do nothing but weep and cry, "Oh, my God, oh, my God!" He continued all night praying, and weeping before the Lord.
Bernardo.
Now Bernardo, who was only pretending to be asleep in order to see what Francis would do, was greatly touched. God visited him too that night, and spoke to his soul so loudly and clearly that he dare not do ought but follow the light that that night began to glimmer on his future path. Little he thought into what a large place it would ultimately lead him.
Next morning, true to his new-born inspiration, he said to Francis—
"I am disposed in my heart to leave the world and obey thee in all that thou shalt command me."
To say that Francis was surprised is to say too little! He was astonished—so astonished that it was difficult to find words in which to answer. That the people he influenced would rise up and desire to share his life, with its privations, and eccentricities had never as yet occurred to him. His sole and only aim had been that his every individual act and thought should be in conformity to that of our Lord Jesus Christ. But "I, if I be lifted up, will draw all men unto Me," and Francis, by his humble life and work, had brought that Blessed Life wherever he went. This is the Divine design for every faithful soul that seeks to truly follow its Master. The man who could live and spread holiness as an ordinary day-laborer and stone-mason was now to receive a greater charge. As soon as he recovered from the first surprise of Bernardo's statement, he said—
"Bernardo, a resolution such as the one thou speakest of is so difficult, and so great an action, that we must take counsel of the Lord Jesus, and pray Him that He may point out His will, and teach us to follow it."
So they set off together for the church. While on their way there that morning they were joined by another brother called Pietro, who said that he too had been told of God to join Francis. So the three went together to read the Gospels and pray for light.
Francis was soon convinced that Bernardo and Pietro were led of God, and joyfully welcomed them as his fellow-laborers. They took up their abode in a deserted mud hut, close by a river known as the Riva Torto. And that mean little hut was the cradle which contained the beginning of a work that spread itself into every quarter of the globe.
Egidio.
"Francis," said Bernardo, a little later, "What wouldst thou do supposing a great king had given thee possessions for which thou afterwards hadst no use?"
"Why, give them back to be sure," answered Francis.
"Then," said Bernardo, "I will that I sell all my possessions, and give the money to the poor."
So he did. Land, houses, all that he possessed he sold, and distributed the proceeds to the poor in the market-place. One can easily imagine the sensation this caused in Assisi, and how almost the entire population thronged to the spot!
The news of this day's doings spread into all the country-side. In a town not far from Assisi, a certain young man, called Egidio, listened intently while his father and mother discussed Bernardo and Francis and went into their history past and present, and speculated on their future. Little they thought as they talked that their cultured, refined son was drinking in every word, and that his soul was being strangely stirred. Before the week was out, Egidio had received the Divine touch that fitted him to respond to the call—"Follow Me." In the marvellously colored dawn of an Italian morning, Egidio rose and "followed."
Arriving in Assisi at a crossway he was at a standstill. Where should he look for Francis? Which of those roads should he take? While he thus alternately debated with himself, and prayed for guidance, who should he see coming along out of the forest where he had been to pray, but Francis himself! There was no mistaking that curious bare-footed figure, with its coarse robe of the color known to the peasants as "beast" color, girded with a knotted rope! Egidio threw himself at Francis' feet, and besought him to receive him for the love of God.
"Dear brother," said Francis, who during the past week had learned not to be surprised when he received candidates for his work. "Dear brother, God hath conferred a great grace upon thee! If the Emperor were to come to Assisi and propose to make one of its citizens his knight or secret chamberlain, would not such an offer be joyfully accepted as a great mark of honor and distinction? How much more shouldst thou rejoice that God hath called thee to be His Knight and chosen servant, to observe the perfection of His Holy Gospel! Therefore do thou stand firm in the vocation to which God hath called thee."
First Apostolic Tour.
So bringing him into the hut Francis called the others and said—
"God has sent us a good brother, let us therefore rejoice in the Lord and eat together in charity."
After they had eaten breakfast Francis took Egidio into Assisi to get cloth to make him a "beast-colored" uniform robe like the others. On the way Francis thought he would like to try the young man and see what kind of a spirit he had. So upon meeting a poor woman, who asked them for money, Francis said to Egidio—
"I pray you, as we have no money, give this poor woman your cloak."
Immediately and joyfully Egidio pulled off his rich mantle and handed it to the beggar, whereat Francis rejoiced much in secret.
It was a united household that assembled under the rude roof of the mud hut by the Riva Torto. Four young men bound together in love, and resolved to serve God absolutely in whatever way He should show them, we shall see, ere long, how God used these human instruments which were so unreservedly placed at His disposal. They were very happy for a few days, and gave themselves up almost entirely to prayer; then Francis led them into the seclusion of the woods and explained to them how the Divine will had manifested itself to his soul.
"We must," he said, "clearly understand our vocation. It is not for our personal salvation only, but for the salvation of a great many others that God has mercifully called us. He wishes us to go through the world, and by example even more than by words, exhort men to repentance, and the keeping of the commandments." Bernardo, Pietro and Egidio declared that they were willing for anything, and so the four separated, two by two, for a preaching tour. Of Bernardo and Pietro history is silent, but nothing could have been more simple than the Apostolic wanderings of Francis and Egidio in the Marches of Ancona. Along the roads they went wherever the Spirit of God led them singing songs of God and Heaven. Their songs together with their happy countenances and strange costume, naturally attracted the people, and when a number would collect to stare at them, Francis would address them, and Egidio, with charming simplicity accentuated all he said with—
A Sermonette.
"You must believe what my brother Francis tells you, the advice he gives you is very good." But don't for a moment imagine that Francis was capable of giving an address. Far from it; he was, truth to say, very little in advance of Egidio, the burden of his cry being—
"Love God, fear Him, repent and you shall be forgiven;" then when Egidio had chorused,
"Do as my brother Francis tells you, the advice he gives you is very good," the two missionaries passed singing on their way!
But the impression produced was far beyond their simple words. The religious history of the times tells us that the love of God was almost dead in men's hearts, that the world had forgotten the meaning of the word repentance, and was entirely given up to lust and vice and pleasure. People asked each other what could be the object these men had in view. Why did they go about roughly-clad, bare-foot, and eating so little. "They are madmen" some said. Others "Madmen could not talk so wisely." Others again, more thoughtful, said, "They seem to care so little for life, they are desperate, and must be either mad, or else they are aspiring to very great perfection!"
When the four had been through almost all the Province they returned to Riva Torto, where they found three new candidates clamoring for admission. Others followed, and when the numbers had increased to about eight, Francis led them to a spot where four roads met, and sent them out two and two to the four points of the compass to preach the Gospel. Everywhere they went they were to urge men to repentance, and point them to a Saviour who could forgive sins. They were to accept no food they had not either worked for, or received as alms for the love of Christ.