Very little is known of this Spanish bishop, except that he was the author of some short works, of which one, named Cerbus, is lost. His "Epistles against the Novatians," his "Call to Penitence," and "Book on Baptism," addressed to catechumens, are extant. His son, Flavius Dexter, probably born before Pacian received episcopal orders, was an intimate friend of S. Jerome. Pacian died at an advanced old age in the reign of Theodosius.

S. GREGORY, B. OF NYSSA.

(ABOUT A.D. 390.)

[Roman Martyrology. Greek MenÆa on Jan. 10th; the Coptic Church on Oct. 14th and Nov. 22nd. Authorities:—His own works; S. Gregory Nazianzen, in his letters; Socrates and Theodoret, in their Ecclesiastical Histories.]

S. Gregory was a younger brother of the great S. Basil, (June 14th,) and S. Macrina, (July 19th), and son of the holy Eusebius and Emmelia, who are commemorated on May 30th. Having lost his parents, he grew to reverence his brother Basil as a father, and his sister was to him as a mother, the instructress of his youth. He was educated in every accomplishment of the age, and became a rhetorician. He was married to a virtuous wife, named Theosebia, who is highly praised by S. Gregory Nazianzen in his ninety-fifth epistle, in after years, as "an honour to the church, an ornament of Christ, the utility of our age, the confidence of women, the fairest and most illustrious amidst the beauty of the brethren, truly holy wife of a priest, his peer in honour and worthy of the great mysteries." These expressions, though somewhat exaggerated, at least point Theosebia out as having been held in high honour by the great saint of Nazianzus. Gregory took the order of Reader, but instead of pressing forward to the diaconate and priesthood, showed an inclination to pursue a wholly secular avocation as a rhetorician, and this drew down on him a sharp reprimand from Gregory Nazianzen. Moved by this admonition, Gregory now resolved to turn his back upon worldly ambition, and devote himself wholly to the service of God. He was ordained bishop by his brother, S. Basil, in 371, when he was aged about thirty-two; and it is supposed by Baronius that Gregory lived with his wife in continence after his ordination, and that she was a deaconess. Nazianzen calls her his "holy and blessed sister," but this is slender ground for the conjecture. It must be remembered that the celibacy of the clergy, which is now required by the Western Church, with such advantage, was not a matter of rule for some centuries, and never prevailed in the Oriental Church. There cannot be much doubt as to the great benefit to the Church of a celibate priesthood, but it is a mistake to endeavour to force the facts of history to demonstrate that celibacy was of primitive obligation. It was always felt to be most seemly, and when Western Christendom became sufficiently organized to admit of the rule being made, the popes and councils did what was evidently for the good of the Kingdom of Christ in requiring the clergy to lead celibate lives.

The see of Gregory was Nyssa, a city of Cappadocia, of no great importance, but the brilliant qualities of the bishop, and his orthodoxy, made him soon conspicuous as a leader of the Catholics, and an object of great dread to the Arians, who prevailed on Demosthesus, the deputy-governor of the province, under the Arian Emperor Valens, to banish him. He spent eight years in exile, wandering from place to place, suffering everywhere persecution from the Arians. Shortly after the accession of Gratian, Gregory was restored to his see, and assisted at the Synod of Antioch, in 379, where he received the charge of visiting the scattered churches in Arabia. To enable him to execute this arduous work, the emperor Theodosius accorded to him the use of the government post-horses and chariots.

He assisted at the council of Constantinople, in 381, when he was chosen to make the funeral oration upon S. Meletius, patriarch of Antioch, and was delegated to be one of the bishops to visit Pontus. In 385, he preached at Constantinople the funeral oration of the empress Flacilla, and he was present at the dedication of the church of the Ruffini, in Constantinople, in 394. The exact date of his death is not known, but it is certain that he died at an advanced age.

It is unnecessary here to give a list of the writings of this eloquent doctor, a large number of which have been preserved.

S. BOSA, B. C.

(A.D. 705.)

[Wilson, in his Anglican Martyrology. Authority:—Bede.]

The monastery of Streaneshalch, now Whitby, was founded and governed by S. Hilda, towards the middle of the seventh century. It was a double community, under the rule of S. Columba, which S. Aidan had introduced among the Northumbrians. S. Hilda governed a congregation of men, as well as one of women, who lived in separate dwellings; and such was her care that no less than five bishops issued from this monastery, all of them men of singular merit and sanctity.

The first of these saint-like prelates named by Bede, was Bosa, who, upon the removal of S. Wilfrid, was taken from the solitude of the cloister, and ordained bishop of York by S. Theodore, archbishop of Canterbury, in the year 678. He most worthily administered the see till 700, when S. Wilfrid being recalled, he humbly resigned his charge, and returned to his monastery.

But S. Wilfrid being again expelled, S. Bosa was once more called forth to the pastoral administration of the see of York, and this he discharged till his death, which took place in the year 705. He was a man of great sanctity and humility, says Bede. He had for his successor S. John of Beverley, from the same monastery.

SS. CYRIL AND METHODIUS, APP.

(9TH CENT.)

[Roman Martyrology. S. Cyril by the Greeks on Feb. 14th, and S. Methodius on May 11th. Authorities:—The Life of S. Clement, a pupil of Methodius, pub. by Pampereus, Vienna, 1802; the Pannonian Life of Methodius; notices in the Life of S. Ludmilla; the Chronicle of Nestor; Cosmas of Prague, &c. The chronology in this article is from the treatise on Cyril and Methodius by Philaret, B. of RigÁ, Milan, 1847.]

Cyril and Methodius, the apostles of the Sclaves, were brothers, the sons of a man of rank in Thessalonica. Constantine, who afterwards in religion assumed the name of Cyril, the younger, was educated at the court of Constantinople, along with the youthful emperor Michael, from the year 842, by the illustrious Photius, who instructed him in logic, philosophy, mathematics, and languages. His talents and accomplishments afforded him every prospect of a brilliant career in the world, but he chose to lay them at the foot of the cross, and, receiving sacred orders, was appointed librarian to the palace. Soon after, he retired to a little monastery, but was drawn from it again to give lectures on philosophy.

Methodius, his elder brother, as soon as his education was accomplished, entered the army, and was appointed to the government of the GrÆco-Sclavonic province, which, according to the Pannonian legend, he held for ten years.

In the year 851, Cyril retired to Mount Olympus, along with his brother, who had also resolved to desert the world, and lived in seclusion and the practice of self-discipline. In 858, some dignitaries of the Chazars, a Hunnish race, besought the emperor to send them a learned man to instruct them in the true faith, and Cyril and Methodius were chosen for this purpose.

How long they spent on this mission is not known exactly. They tarried till they could organise the church among the Chazars, and then retired to the Crimea where they worked together at making a Sclavonic translation of the Holy Gospels. It was whilst there that they discovered what they believed to be the relics of S. Clement of Rome, lying together with the anchor, which had been attached to his neck, where the faithful had reverently laid him. They raised the holy remains, and translated them to Constantinople.

In 862, the Sclavonic princes of Pannonia, Rostislaw, Swaetopolk, and Kotel requested the emperor Michael and the patriarch Photius, to send them teachers, "because they were without true instructors for the people," and they desired to have instruction and divine worship in their own language. It appears that missionaries of the Latin Church had already penetrated amongst them, but probably had been unable to master the Sclavonic tongue; at any rate, the Pannonians refused to accept them, and turned instead to the East.

None were better calculated to execute this mission than the brothers Methodius and Cyril, the former of whom had for some years governed a Sclavonic province, and both had been born at Thessalonica, on the confines of Sclavonic peoples, and where the language was familiar to the natives. The emperor and the patriarch felt this, and sent for them, and laid before them the desire of these heathen princes for the Gospel. The brothers at once undertook the mission, and set forth. On their way, Methodius was the means of converting the king of the Bulgarians. Boris had a sister, who was a Christian, having been brought up at Constantinople, whither she had been carried captive. The prince, who was passionately fond of hunting, desired the emperor to procure him a picture, which should illustrate his favourite pursuit, and adorn the hall of a new palace he had erected. Methodius was commissioned by the emperor to execute this task, and he appeared before king Boris, not as a missionary, but as a painter. "Let it be a good picture," said the prince, "large and terrible." "So shall it be," answered Methodius, "but one thing I demand,—that I may be left undisturbed here to complete my picture, that no one may see it till it is finished." The king reluctantly gave his consent, and day after day passed, and the painter was not seen. He remained closely shut up within the palace. Weeks rolled by, and Boris chafed with impatience and curiosity. At length the doors were thrown open, and the king entered. Methodius had painted the Last Judgment on the wall of the new hall. Above sat Christ on the great white throne, and below were men receiving sentence, and the angels dividing them. An awe and wonder fell on the king's heart as he contemplated the picture. "What meaneth this?" he asked. And Methodius seized the opportunity of preaching to him righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come. He explained to the king the whole doctrine of the final judgment of men, their fate depending on their works in this world, and the king trembled. He went on to speak of the glories prepared for the baptized who keep the faith. Great and purifying thoughts swelled the bosom of the prince, and going up to the painter, he said, with his head bowed, "Take me, and teach me, that I too may pass to the beautiful side of the picture."

And when Cyril and Methodius had preached the Word of God among the Bulgarians, they journeyed on, bearing the bones of S. Clement, and their Sclavonic translation of the Holy Gospels, into Moravia, where they laboured about four and a half years with great success. The bishops of the neighbouring German provinces, however, viewed the mission of these Easterns with jealousy, and complained to pope Nicolas I. of their performing the liturgy in the Sclavonic language. The unsuccessful war waged by Rostislaw with the Germans, and the deposition of Photius at Constantinople, who had commissioned the two apostles, gave Nicolas the opportunity of summoning the two Greek missionaries to Rome. On their journey (in 868) they were subjected to vexatious treatment at Venice, on account of their cause, but pope Adrian II., who had succeeded Nicolas, dreading to lose Moravia and Pannonia, received them with great cordiality, permitted them to celebrate the divine mysteries in Sclavonic at the grave of the Apostles, ordained their disciples, Formosus and Gonderik,38 bishops, three others priests, and two lectors. He also sanctioned the use of the Sclavonic liturgy. The following account from the Lections of the Olmutz Breviary will not prove uninteresting. "The blessed Cyril, by the grace of God, after he had converted the Moravians, invented new alphabetical letters, and translated the Old and New Testaments, and many other things from Greek or Latin, into the Sclavonic tongue; and he appointed to be sung Mass, and the other canonical hours in the church. And to this day they are thus sung in Sclavonic parts, especially in Bulgaria, and thereby many souls are drawn to Christ the Lord. And when after some time the said Cyril went to Rome out of devotion, he was rebuked by the sovereign pontiff and the other rulers of the church, because, contrary to the canons, he had appointed the holy Mass to be sung in the Sclavonic tongue. But he, humbly endeavouring to satisfy them, but not able to convince them wholly, snatched up the Psalter, and read the words of the Psalmist, 'Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.' Omnis spiritus laudet Dominum. And he said, 'If every one that hath breath is to praise the Lord, why, my fathers, do ye forbid me to perform the Mass in the Sclavonic tongue, or to translate other things from Latin and Greek into the vernacular? Finding the people simple and ignorant of the ways of the Lord, I, by the inspiration of God, found this means of drawing many to God. Therefore, pardon me, my fathers, and, following the example of S. Paul, the doctor of the Gentiles,—Forbid not to speak with tongues. (I Cor. xiv. 39.)' And they, hearing him, and wondering at his sanctity and faith, gave him authority in those parts to say Mass, and sing the Canonical Hours, in the aforesaid tongue."

Cyril died in Rome shortly after, Feb. 14th, 869, in a monastery into which he had retired; but Methodius, according to the entreaty of his dying brother, returned to Moravia, to find that the hostility of the German prelates and clergy was not allayed. Political disturbances, fomented by the Germans, broke out between 869 and 901, and Rostislaw was reduced to ruin. Methodius held himself aloof from these contests, and in 870 went with his disciples into Pannonia, where the court received him and gave up to him the castle of Salava in Mosburg, as a residence. Kotel now besought the pope to consecrate Methodius archbishop of Pannonia, and his request was complied with. But the German clergy, especially the archbishops of Salzburg and Mainz, who unfortunately were ambitious rather of extending their authority than of preaching the Gospel to the people, were exasperated by this to the highest pitch, and they stirred up against him the German emperor and the Moravian prince Swaetopolk, and brought matters so far that he was driven into banishment for a year and a half or two years. Pope John VIII. restored to him his see in 874. At last the Moravian Sclaves saw through the ambition of the bishops his opponents, and expelled them the country, at the same time writing to the pope to request him to appoint Methodius archbishop of Moravia. This John VIII. consented to, and "from this time," says the contemporary writer of the Pannonian history of S. Methodius, "the divine doctrine began to grow and spread rapidly, and heathenism and superstition to disappear." But the archbishops of Salzburg and Mainz, who claimed jurisdiction over the Sclavonic races, though not converted by them, could not forgive Methodius the loss of their power and position in the country. They hastened to Rome, and complained that Methodius was heretical on the subject of the Double Procession, that he taught the independence of the Moravian Church, and that he celebrated the Liturgy in the vulgar tongue. Pope John thereupon, in 878, forbade the performance of the Liturgy in Sclavonic, and in the following year summoned Methodius to appear before him in Rome. The German-Latin prelates triumphed; they appeared in Moravia, and declared that Methodius was deposed, and that his authority had been transferred to them. But pope John, on the appearance of the apostle before him, was satisfied of his orthodoxy, and confirmed him in his position and authority over the Moravian Church. Disappointed in their hope of ruining Methodius at Rome, the German prelates now spread the report that the archbishop had incurred the displeasure of the emperor by his submission to the pope. Methodius was therefore obliged to make a journey to Constantinople, where he was cordially received by the emperor Basil, and then dismissed with many presents. As soon as it was proved that the report of the anger of the imperial court was false, the enemies of Methodius endeavoured to dispose Swaetopolk, the prince, against him; and this they were the more able to effect, because the prince was a man of immoral life, and had incurred the reprimand of the archbishop on more than one occasion. Gradually, influenced by these treacherous apostles of Mammon, rather than of Jesus Christ, Swaetopolk became alienated from Methodius; but in spite of all their efforts, and the coldness of the prince, all the Sclavonic races, from Croatia and Dalmatia to the confines of Poland, heard in their own tongue the celebration of the Divine mysteries, and looked to Methodius as their archbishop. Moreover he effected the conversion of the Bohemian Duke Borivoi, and introduced Christianity into his lands. He founded at Prague the church of Our Lady, and another dedicated to SS. Peter and Paul; and died on April 6th, 885.

Relics of S. Cyril at Rome in S. Clemente, and at Brunn, in Moravia. In Art S. Cyril is represented in a philosopher's long habit, and bearded. S. Methodius as an archbishop with the pallium, holding in one hand a picture of the Last Judgment.

S. CATHARINE OF BOLOGNA, V.

(A.D. 1463.)

[Roman Martyrology. Her name was inserted by Clement VIII., in 1592; and she was canonized by Benedict XIII., in 1724. Authority:—Her life written by F. Paleotti, about fifty years after her death.]

Catharine was the daughter of noble parents. Her father, John Vigri, was high in favour with Nicholas d'Este, prince of Ferrara. She was born on the Nativity of the B. Virgin, 1412, at Bologna, where she spent her childhood; but growing up to girlhood she removed with her parents to Ferrara, and became the associate of Margaret, daughter of the prince. At the age of eleven she joined the order of the Poor Clares, and entered the convent of that society in Bologna, with the consent of her parents. "Thus withdrawn from all terrestral occupations," says her biographer, "she began to serve God with such fervour of soul, that all began to marvel at her. So great was her gentleness, so great her reverence and obedience towards others, as long as she lived, that she soon became beloved and pleasant to all, and almost venerable in her early girlhood. Wherever she was, and with whomsoever she conversed, she spoke either of God or with God, so that, though her body was on earth, her soul was ever in heaven. And although she was tormented with grievous temptations which tried her almost out of measure, yet was she always of a glad countenance." She grew daily more devoted to prayer; and her greatest delight was to spend many hours in close communing with God. One Christmas Eve she obtained permission to spend the night in the church, having resolved to recite a thousand times the Angelic Salutation in honour of her who that night bore the Saviour of the world. The hours glided away in the church in all stillness, save for the click of the beads in Catharine's fingers, and in all darkness, save for the glimmer of the red lamp before the Blessed Sacrament. Suddenly, a glory filled the church, and she saw before her the holy Mother bearing her infant Son in her bosom, and smiling on the young religious, S. Mary laid the child Jesus in her arms. It was a moment of supreme felicity, and one painters have loved to recall, as she held to her heart her Redeemer and God, and looked down on His radiant face. Then, trembling between love and fear, she bent her lips to his mouth, and instantly all was dark; the vision had fled. When she returned to her cell she wrote down what she had seen on the margin of her breviary, where it was found after her death.

Margaret d'Este, her little friend in childhood, had grown up, and was married to a good man, Robert Malatesta,39 who, however, died and left her a disconsolate widow. The prince of Ferrara was desirous of marrying his daughter again, but Margaret clung to the memory of her first husband, and besought her friend Catharine to assist her with her prayers. And it fell out that on the very day of the second marriage the bridegroom died. Next night Margaret saw Robert come to her, and extending to her the wedding ring, say, "Margaret, I marry thee again, thou must be mine alone!" and she spent the rest of her days in a holy widowhood. A convent of Poor Clares having been founded in Bologna, S. Catharine was appointed to be the first prioress, in spite of her tears and entreaties to be left to the calm seclusion of her cell, and the subordinate duties of a sister. She dreaded lest the cares and business which fall to a superior should leave her less time for contemplation and prayer.

On her way from Ferrara to her new home she sickened, but persevered in her journey, though carried on a litter to the boat, and when placed in it, was given a blessed candle to hold, as is usual with dying persons, in case she should die on the journey. She however recovered, sufficiently to set the new house in order, and to complete the construction of some of the buildings; and then after the flame of life had again sunk, and once more flickered up, calmly entered into the joy of her Lord on March 9th, 1463, at the age of fifty-one.

Her body, incorrupt, is shown in the church of her convent, through glass, sitting, richly habited, but with face, hands, and feet bare.

S. FRANCES OF ROME, W.

(A.D. 1440.)

[Roman Martyrology. Canonized by Paul V., in 1608. Authorities:—Her life by her confessor, John Mattiotti, and another by Maria Magdalena d'Aguillar. The following life is condensed from that by Lady Georgiana Fullerton.]

Frances of Rome was born in stormy days. War was raging all over Europe. Italy was torn by inward dissentions, and the Church was afflicted, not only by the outward persecutions which strengthens her vitality, though for a while they appear to cripple her action, but by trials of a far deeper and more painful nature. Heresy had torn from her arms a great number of her children, and repeated schisms were dividing those who, in appearance, and even in intention, remained faithful to the Holy See. The successors of S. Peter had removed the seat of their residence to Avignon, and the eternal city presented the aspect of one vast battle-field, on which daily and hourly conflicts were occurring. In the capital of Western Christendom ruins of recent date lay side by side with the relics of past ages; the churches were sacked, burned, and destroyed, and the eyes of the people of Rome were turned beseechingly to Heaven to restore to them that tranquillity to which they had almost become strange.

It was at that time, during the pontificate of Urban VI., in the year 1384, that Francesca was born at Rome; that "she rose as a star in a dark night," according to the expression of the most ancient of her biographers. Her father's name was Paul Russa; her mother's Jacobella de' Roffredeschi; they were both of noble descent. On the day of her birth she was carried to the Church of S. Agnes, and there baptized.

Little could the worshippers who may have been praying there that day for a blessing on their bereaved and distracted city, have guessed in what form that blessing was bestowed, and that that little babe, a few hours old, was to prove a most powerful instrument in the hands of God for the extinction of schism, the revival of piety, and the return of peace.

From her infancy, Francesca was not like other children. At two or three years old she manifested a precocious intelligence and piety. Instead of playing, she loved to retire into a silent corner of her father's palace, and kneeling down join her little hands in prayer.

From the time that Francesca had understood the meaning of the words, her greatest desire had been to enter a convent; it was therefore with profound grief that she received, at the age of twelve, the announcement from her father that he had promised her hand to Lorenzo Ponziano, a young nobleman of illustrious birth, and not less eminent for his virtues and talents than from his fortune and position. She flew to her director and besought his advice. "If your parents persist in their resolution," said he, "take it, my child, as a sign that God expects of you this sacrifice. Offer up to him in that case your earnest desire for the religious life. He will accept the will for the deed; and you will attain at once the reward of that wish, and the peculiar graces attached to the sacrament of marriage." Francesca submitted, and was married to Lorenzo Ponziano, and took up her abode in his palace in the heart of the Trastevere. It is a well-known spot; and on the 9th of March, the people of Rome flock to it in crowds. The modern building erected on the foundations of the old palace is the Casa dei Esercizii Pii. On the day of her festival its rooms are thrown open, every memorial of the gentle saint is exhibited, lights burn on numerous altars, flowers deck the passages, leaves are strewn in the chapel, on the stairs, in the entrance court; figured tapestry and crimson silks hang over the door, and crowds of people go in and out, and kneel before the relics and pictures of the dear saint of Rome, and gaze on each altar, and linger in these chambers, like kinsfolk met on a birthday to rejoice together.

Francesca was received into her new home tenderly and joyfully by her father-in-law Andrew, his wife Cecilia, and Vannozza, the wife of her husband's brother, a holy and loving woman, in whom Francesca found a kindred spirit. The manner of Francesca was so gentle and kind, that it inspired affection in all who approached her; but there was also a profound and awful purity in her aspect and in her demeanour, which effectually checked the utterance of a free or licentious word in her presence. Faithful to her early habits of piety, she continued every Wednesday to visit the church of S. Maria Nuova; and after confessing to her director, Antonio Savelli, she communicated. Rising betimes in the morning, Francesca devoutly said her prayers, made her meditations, and read attentively out of a spiritual book. In the course of the day, whenever she had a moment's leisure, she withdrew into a church, or into her own room, and gave herself up to prayer. At the same time, so devout a life in a young person of twelve years old could not fail to attract the attention and draw down the censures of the worldly. Many such began to laugh at Francesca, and to turn her piety into ridicule. But her husband was to her a shield, as far as in him lay, against spiteful tongues. His young wife was much too precious to him, much too perfect in his sight, her whole life bore too visibly the stamp of God's dealings with her, for him to dream of interfering with the course she had taken. On the contrary, he looked upon her with that affectionate veneration which the presence of true sanctity always awakens in a noble and religious mind.

There was not a single member, friend, or servant, of that noble family into which she had been received, that did not love her. Paluzzo, Lorenzo's brother, delighted in encouraging the intimacy that had arisen between his young sister-in-law and his own wife Vannozza. Day by day her influence—her tender, noiseless, gentle influence—was felt subduing, winning, drawing them all to God.

The happiness which the family of Ponziano had enjoyed since Lorenzo's marriage was interrupted by the sudden and dangerous illness of his wife, which baffled all medical skill, and soon brought her to the verge of the grave. She endured excruciating pain, and was unable to take nourishment. She declined rapidly, and all hope of her recovery was abandoned, when, one night, as she was lying motionless on her couch of suffering, listening to the breathing of her nurses who had fallen asleep, a sudden light filled the room, and she saw standing before her in pilgrim's robe, S. Alexis, the noble Roman penitent, who had passed many years as a despised beggar at the door of his father's palace. Drawing near to Francesca's bed, he said "I am Alexis, and am sent from God to enquire of thee if thou choosest to be healed?" "I have no choice but the good pleasure of God," she answered. "Then live," said he, "for He choosest that thou shouldest remain in the world to glorify His name." Then he drew his mantle over Francesca and vanished, leaving her perfectly recovered.

Confounded at this extraordinary favour, she rose in haste, and slipping out of the room without awaking her nurses, she hurried to the bedside of her sister-in-law. "My dear Vannozza, my own Vannozza!" she exclaimed, putting her arm round her neck, and her cheek next hers. Vannozza suddenly awoke, and distrusting the evidence of her senses, said, "Who are you? Am I dreaming? It sounds like the voice of my little Frances?" "Yes, it is your little sister who is speaking to you." "What! I left you only an hour ago at the point of death!" "It is I, nevertheless, come to thank you, dear companion, for having nursed me so tenderly, and now help me to thank God for his wonderful mercy towards me." Then sitting on her bed, with the hands of her sister clasped in her own, she related to her the vision, and the instantaneous recovery that had followed; and then, as the light began to break into the chamber, she added with eagerness, "Now let us hasten to S. Maria Nuova, and then to the church of S. Alexis, that I may return him my thanks, before others learn what God has done for me."

The year 1400 opened under melancholy auspices. The wars for the succession of the kingdom of Naples between Louis of Anjou and Ladislas were agitating the whole of Italy; and Rome was exposed to all the fury of the contending parties. Lorenzo Ponziano, from his rank and fidelity to the sovereign pontiff, was especially marked out as an enemy by the adverse faction. But while on every side the storm was brewing, and the aspect of public affairs each day became more gloomy, a blessing was granted him, which for the last five years he had ardently desired. Francesca became the mother of a little son, who received at the font the name of John Baptist, or, in Italian, Giovanni Baptista. It was not at that time the custom for ladies of rank to nurse their children; but Francesca set aside all such considerations, and never consented to forego a mother's sacred privilege.

In obedience to her director, and guided by her own sense of duty, she modified, for the time being her usual mode of life, and occupied herself with the care of her child in preference to all other observances of charity or of devotion.

About a year after, Lorenzo's mother died, and Francesca was called to take her place as head of the household, and to superintend all the domestic affairs. Distressed at the proposal, she pleaded her youth and inexperience, and urged that Vannozza, as the wife of the eldest brother, was, as a matter of course, entitled to that position. Vannozza, however, steadily refused it, and at length, overcome by the general importunity, Francesca found herself obliged to comply. Now it was that her merit shone conspicuously. Placed at the head of the most opulent house in Rome, no symptom of pride revealed itself in her looks or in her actions. She was never heard to speak a harsh or impatient word. Firm in requiring every person in her house to fulfil their duties, she did it in the gentlest manner. Always courteous to her servants, she watched over their souls as precious treasures entrusted to her custody by God.

Francesca had just attained the age of twenty when her second son was born. He was baptized on the day of his birth, and received the name of John Evangelist. He might well have been termed his mother's own child; for in his veriest infancy, he showed that he had inherited her sweetness and spirit of devotion. He was to her as one of God's own angels, and tears of joy filled her eyes as she mused on the extraordinary signs of grace which he daily evinced. Evangelista was not quite three years old when his little sister Agnes was born, who in beauty, heavenly sweetness of temper, and precocious piety, proved the counterpart of her brother.

In the year 1409, when she was about twenty-seven years old, Francesca's temporal calamities began. After Ladislas of Naples, befriended by the enemies of the pope, had in 1498 gained possession of Rome, he left behind him as governor of the city the count of Troja, a rough and brutal soldier. In an engagement with the count's soldiers Lorenzo Ponziano was stabbed, and taken up and carried home as if dead. Francesca however found that he still breathed, and by her unremitting attention, he was restored to health.

Meanwhile the count of Troja, pressed on every side, began to foresee the necessity of leaving Rome; but, in his exasperation, resolved previously to wreak his vengeance on the families most devoted to the pope, and especially on that of the Ponziani. He accordingly arrested Paluzzo, Vannozza's husband, and understanding that Lorenzo had a son of eight or nine years old, he commanded that he should be given up into his hands as a hostage.

This was to Francesca a trial almost beyond endurance, as she trembled for the soul of her little one about to be committed to unprincipled soldiers. The report of the order had spread through Rome, and as she passed through the streets clasping the hand of her dear child whom she was about to surrender, crowds of commiserating women pressed round her. She mounted the Capitol, walked straight to where the tyrant was standing, and gave up her son to him, and then, without once looking back, she hastened to the church of Ara Coeli, and falling prostrate before the feet of the Mother of Mercy, poured out her soul in tears and supplication. In the mean time the count of Troja had ordered one of his officers to take little Baptista on his horse, and carry him away to a place he appointed; but from the instant the child was placed on the saddle, no efforts could induce the animal to stir. Four of the knights of Naples renewed the attempt with other horses, and the same result. There is a strength greater than man's will; there is a power that defeats human malice. Struck with a secret terror by this evident prodigy, the count of Troja gave up the unequal contest, and ordered the child to be restored to his mother. Before the altar of Ara Coeli, where in her anguish she had fallen, Francesca received back into her arms the son of her love, and blessed the God who had given her strength to go through this the severest of her trials.

The States of the Church and Rome were again overrun by the troops of Ladislas, in 1410. The horrors of this invasion, and of the sack that followed it, surpassed in atrocity almost all those that had previously afflicted the capital of Western Christendom. Lorenzo, scarcely recovered from his long illness, fled into a distant province. It had been impossible to remove his wife and children; and Francesca remained exposed to a succession of the most trying disasters. The wealth of the family chiefly consisted in their country possessions; and day after day intelligence was brought to her that one farmhouse or another was burnt or pillaged, the cattle dispersed or destroyed, and the peasants murdered by a ruthless soldiery. One fatal morning a troop of savage ruffians, drunk with rage, broke into the palace, and after pillaging, and all but destroying the time-honoured residence of the Ponziani, carried off her son Baptista. In the space of a few hours that gorgeous abode was turned into a heap of ruins. Bereft of her husband, of her son, and of all the conveniences of life, Francesca, with her two younger children, remained alone, and unprotected, for her brother-in-law, Paluzzo, was still a prisoner in the tyrant's hands. How Baptista escaped is not recorded, but by some means or other he was enabled to get away from Rome and rejoin his father.

Francesca took shelter in a corner of her ruined habitation; and there, with Evangelista and Agnese, she managed to live in the most complete seclusion. These two children were now their mother's only comfort, as their education was her principal occupation. Evangelista, as he advanced in age, in no way belied the promise of his infancy. He lived in spirit with the angels and saints, and seemed more fitted for their society than for any earthly companionship. "To be with God," was his only dream of bliss. The hour for another sacrifice was at hand. The second invasion of Rome was succeeded by a dreadful famine, which was followed in its turn by a severe pestilence. Evangelista sickened and died of it. Francesca wept over the loss of her dearly-beloved child, but did not grieve for him. It was not a time for indulgence of sorrow. Want and sickness were turning Rome into a charnel house. Wild voices were screaming for bread on every side. The streets were encumbered by the victims of the plague. The ruin of private property, the general penury occasioned by the extortion of Ladislas, and the sacking of Rome by his soldiers, had cut off almost all the resources of private charity. Francesca, bereaved of everything but her one little girl, and lodged with Vannozza in a corner of their dismantled house, had no longer at her command the resources she had formerly possessed for the relief of the poor. A little food from their ruined estates was now and then supplied to these lonely women; and they stinted themselves, that they might bestow the greatest part on the sick and poor. There was a large hall in the lower part of the palace; the sisters converted it into a temporary hospital; out of the shattered furniture that lay scattered about the house, they contrived to make up beds and covering, and to prepare some clothing for the wretched creatures they were about to receive. When all was ready they brought in sufferers, carrying the weakest in their arms. They washed and dressed their wounds and sores, prepared both medicine and food, watched the sick by day and by night; laboured incessantly for their bodies, and still more for their souls. The example which the ruined and bereaved wives of the Ponziani had given kindled a similar spirit among the hitherto apathetic inhabitants of Rome, and in several places hospitals were opened to the perishing multitudes. Often Francesca and Vannozza were without a morsel of food for themselves and their poor, then they went forth to beg, and gratefully accepted the broken bits that fell from the table of the wealthy. Each remnant of food, each rag of clothing, they brought home with joy; and the best was invariably bestowed on their guests.

Evangelista had been dead about a year, when one morning as Francesca was praying in her oratory, she became conscious that the little room was suddenly and supernaturally illumined. She raised her eyes, and Evangelista stood before her; his familiar aspect unchanged, but his features transfigured and beaming with ineffable splendour. By his side stood an angel of exquisite beauty. Evangelista smiling on his mother, told her of his present happiness, and then bade her prepare to surrender her little Agnese, for God called the child. But a consolation was promised her. Thenceforth the angel who stood beside Evangelista was to be ever with her, as a visible companion. Having said this, Evangelista disappeared, but the angel remained, and to the day of her death was ever present to her sight.

The following is the description of the angel as given by Francesca to her confessor, and written down by her, at his order:—

"His stature is that of a child, of about nine years; his countenance full of sweetness and majesty; his eyes generally turned towards heaven. Words cannot describe the divine purity of that gaze. His brow is always serene; his glances kindle in the soul the flame of ardent devotion. When I look upon him, I understand the glory of the angelic nature, and the degraded condition of our own. He wears a long, shining robe, and over it a tunic, either as white as the lilies of the field, or of the colour of a red rose, or of the hue of the sky, when it is most deeply blue. When he walks at my side his feet are never soiled by the mud of the streets, or the dust of the roads."

The presence of her heavenly guide was to her as a mirror, in which she could see reflected every imperfection of her character. Much as she had discerned, even from her earliest childhood, of the corruption of her heart, yet she often told her director that it was only since she had been continually in the presence of an angelic companion that she had realised its amount. So that this divine favour, far from exalting her in her own eyes, served to maintain her in the deepest humility. When she committed any fault, the angel faded away, and it was only when she had felt compunction and confessed her fault, that he shone out upon her once more in all his brilliancy.

And now her little Agnes was taken from her, and was laid beside her brother Evangelista.

Four long years had elapsed, during which Rome had been given up to war, famine, and pestilence. The exertions of Francesca told at last on her enfeebled frame, and she fell dangerously ill. Vannozza never left her bedside, and nursed her with such love and care that she restored her to health. It was during this illness that Francesca had a vision of Hell. And now, in 1414, Ladislas died, and peace was restored to the States of the Church. The Ponziani were recalled from banishment, and their property was restored. Lorenzo and his son Baptista returned to their home, and to the wife and mother they had so longed to behold again. But the cup of joy was mixed with sorrow. Lorenzo, who a few years back was strong and active, was now broken by long sufferings, aged more through exile and grief than through years. We are told that when he entered his palace and looked upon his wife, deep sobs shook his breast, and he burst into tears. The two beautiful children whom he had left by her side were gone, and Francesca herself, pale with recent sickness, spent with ceaseless labour, was changed in form, and bloom, and brightness, by what she also had endured.

The household life was now to some extent restored. Francesca devoted all her leisure moments to prayer, but never allowed her spiritual exercises to interfere with her duty as a wife and mistress of a household. Her attention to Lorenzo's slightest wants and wishes was unceasing. She never complained of any amount of interruption or of trouble which his claims, or those of the house, or of her position in society, occasioned. One day that she was reciting in her room the office of the Blessed Virgin, her husband sent for her. Instantly rising from her knees, she obeyed his summons. When she had performed the trifling service he required, she returned to her prayers. Four successive times, for the most insignificant of purposes, was she sent for; each time with unwearied good humour she complied, and resumed her devotions without a shadow of discontent or annoyance. On resuming her book the last time that this occurred, great was her astonishment in finding the antiphon which she had begun four times, and had four times left unfinished, written in letters of gold. Vannozza, who was present, witnessed the miracle, and the gilded letters remained in the book to the day of her death.

Her son, Baptista, had now arrived at the age of eighteen, and at his father's advice he married a maiden, named Mobilia, of noble birth and singular beauty. Immediately upon her marriage, the bride came to reside under the same roof as her father and mother-in-law. She was received as a beloved daughter by Francesca and Vannozza, but she neither returned their affection nor appeared sensible to their kindness. Her head was completely turned at finding herself her own mistress, adored by her husband, and furnished with the most ample means of gratifying all her fancies. She gave no thought to anything but her beauty, her dress, and all the amusements within her reach. Wholly inexperienced, she declined to ask or to receive advice, and chose in every respect to be guided by her inclinations alone. Imperious with her equals, haughty with her superiors, she treated her mother-in-law with the most supreme contempt. In the gay societies which she frequented, it was her favourite amusement to turn Francesca into ridicule, and mimic her manners and style of conversation. "How can one feel respect," said she, "for an old woman who thinks of nothing but the poor, dresses plainly, and goes about the streets carrying bread and old clothes?"

It was in vain that Baptista, seriously annoyed at the insults offered to his dearly-loved mother, remonstrated with his wife. Mobilia persisted for long, till struck with sudden illness in the midst of a sharp and bitter speech addressed to her mother-in-law, she became alarmed lest God should punish her with greater severity, and she resolved to behave towards her with respect and love. And this grew till the young wife became passionately fond of Francesca, and venerated her for her virtues, which she strove hard to imitate. Francesca, with the most watchful love, nursed Mobilia in her confinements, and bestowed on her grandchildren the same cares that she had lavished on her own children. It was a great relief to her that Mobilia was able to assume the management of the house, and thus enable her to devote herself more unreservedly to the service of the poor and of the hospitals. A new epoch was now at hand in her career. God had placed in her heart many years ago a hope, which she had nursed in secret, and watered with tears, and fostered by prayer. Never impatient, never beforehand with God's providence, she waited. Lorenzo's admiration and affection for his wife had gone on increasing with advancing years; the perfection of her life, and the miracles he had so often seen her perform, inspired him with unbounded reverence. Taking her aside one day, he offered to release her from all the obligations imposed by the state of marriage, to allow her the fullest liberty of action, and the most absolute control over her person, her time, and her conduct, on one condition, that she would promise never to cease to inhabit his house. She accepted his proposal joyfully and gratefully, but she continued to devote herself to her excellent husband, and with the most attentive solicitude to render him every service in her power. He was now in very declining health, and she rendered him by day and by night all the cares of the tenderest nurse.

Seeing the necessity of a religious society for women living in the world, Francesca now formed a congregation of pious women, which was affiliated to the Olivetian monastery of S. Maria Nuova, and which comprised about ten noble Roman ladies, devoted like herself and Vannozza, to the service of God and the poor. She now lost her beloved sister Vannozza, and her director, Antonio Savelli, who had instructed her childhood, and guided her ever since with wisdom and faithfulness. She chose as her director and that of her congregation, Giovanni Mattiotti, curate of S. Maria in Trastevere, to whom she had already sometimes been to confession. He was a man of distinguished piety, but of an irresolute and vacillating disposition, easily disheartened. Her society, which was called the Congregation of Oblates of Mary, had lasted seven years, when Francesca decided that it would be advisable that it should have a convent in which to dwell. She took a house adapted to the requirements of a religious community, on the spot where an old tower, named "Tor di Specchi," used to stand. Various obstacles arose to the purchase of this house, which disheartened Mattiotti; but they were finally overcome, and the acquisition was completed towards the end of the year 1432. This house, which was at first considered only as a temporary residence, was subsequently added to, and has remained to this day the central house of the order. It was, doubtless, a trial to Francesca that whilst she was providing a home for her disciples, she was unable to avail herself of it, but she never hesitated as to her line of duty. Lorenzo had released her from all obligations but one, that of residing in his house, and watching over his old age. His infirmities were increasing, and her attentions were indispensable to his comfort. The rule adopted by the Oblates of Tor di Specchi remains the same to this day. They are not, strictly speaking, nuns: they take no vows, and are bound by no obligations under pain of sin; they are not cloistered, and their dress is that which was worn at the period of their establishment by the widows of the Roman nobles.

It was on the Feast of the Annunciation, 1433, that the Oblates, ten in number, met in the church of S. Maria in Trastevere, heard Mass, and communicated, then went in procession to the house they were thenceforth to inhabit. That house, which now-a-days is thrown open during the Octave of the Feast of S. Frances, is no gloomy abode. The beautiful chapel; the garden, with its magnificent orange trees; the open galleries, with their little oratories, where a holy picture or figure takes you by surprise, and meets you at every turn; the light, airy rooms, where religious prints and ornaments, with flowers, birds, and ingenious toys, testify that innocent enjoyments are encouraged among the children educated therein by the Oblates of S. Mary.

But on the day when Francesca's companions first entered these walls, there was nothing very fair or beautiful to greet them, though they carried thither, in their hearts, from the altar they had just left, the source of all light and love. With delight they exchanged their ordinary dress for that which the rule prescribed. Francesca alone stood among them no nun in her outward garb, but the truest nun of all, through the inward consecration of her whole being to God.

Francesca had been forty years married to Lorenzo Ponziano, and blessed had that union been by the tender affection which had reigned between the husband and the wife, and sanctified by the exercise of no common virtues, by the pursuit of no transitory object. Francesca had led the way, in meekness, in humility, in subjection, but with a single aim and an unwavering purpose. Lorenzo's health had been breaking up for some years past, and now it utterly failed, and his disease assumed an alarming character. Few men would have shown themselves as worthy as he did of such a wife as Francesca. From the moment of his marriage he had appreciated her virtues, rejoiced in her piety, encouraged her good works, and to a great extent shared in them. He had his reward. Francesca tended him to the last with indefatigable love. He had been a just man, and his death was the death of the righteous. Francesca was now free to follow the bent of her desire. She took leave of Mobilia and her son, and went straight to Tor di Specchi. It was on the 21st of March, the feast of S. Benedict, that she entered its walls, not as the foundress, but as a humble suppliant for admission. At the foot of the stairs, having taken off her black gown, her veil, and her shoes, she knelt down, and made her general confession in the presence of the community, and then asked permission to dwell amongst the Oblates. The spiritual daughters of S. Frances hastened to raise and to embrace her, and clothing her with their habit, they led the way to the chapel, where they all returned thanks to God.

At the same moment, her angel guardian was changed; another, brighter and more beautiful, stood beside her, weaving a golden woof out of threads, which he drew from a palm branch. And this angel, ever busy on this mystic work, remained beside her till her death, in place of the other.

Agnes de Lellis, the superior, then resigned her office, and the sisters with one accord insisted on Francesca assuming the direction of the house. She positively refused to do so, but her objections were overruled by the director, and unable to resist his orders, she assumed the office on March 25th.

We have not space to give an account of the life of the blessed Francesca as a superior, or to detail the miracles she was enabled to work; for these we refer the English reader to the life of this saint by Lady Georgiana Fullerton. On March 3rd, 1440, when Francesca was fifty-six years old, she was sent for to see her son Baptista, who was laid up with a sharp attack of fever. She instantly obeyed the summons, and spent the day at the Ponziano palace; but towards evening she grew so ill that she could scarcely stand. However, she persisted in returning to her convent. On her way she stopped at the church of S. Maria in Trastevere, and found there her confessor, Giovanni Mattiotti, who, noticing her altered looks, ordered her at once to return to her son's house. The order was a trial to her, for she felt that she would never again enter the hallowed walls of Tor di Specchi; but, faithful to the spirit of perfect obedience, she went back to the palace. In the course of the night a virulent fever came on, and she became so seriously ill that all hopes of her recovery were abandoned. And now the angel had nearly done his mystic task, the golden web was complete, and he folded up the glistening tissue about the palm. The day of March 9th was far advanced. "What are you saying?" asked her confessor, seeing her lips move. "The vespers of the Blessed Virgin," she answered, in a scarcely audible voice. As an infant she had begun the practice; and on the eve of her death she had not omitted it.

S. Francesca was canonized May 29th, 1608.

Relics in S. Maria Nuova, at Rome.

In art she appears with an angel by her side, sometimes contemplating Hell open.