The Lives of the Saints, Volume III (of 16): March

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 Cœli, 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 Cœli, 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.