Saint Cecilia of Rome

An ancient tradition of Christian Rome places the house where Cecilia was raised, and where she spent her years until marriageable age, on the Campus Martius. Within this opulent dwelling, decorated with all the Roman pomp, amidst the trophies and crowns of her ancestors, Cecilia, a stranger to the splendor and attractions of the century, practiced with entire fidelity the divine law that Christ came to bring to men. History tells us nothing of the means the divine Spirit used to win her to this heavenly doctrine; but we know that from her earliest childhood, Cecilia was initiated into the mysteries of Christianity. Perhaps an ancestress enlightened by the true light, or a faithful nurse, had inoculated the young girl with this faith, the profession of which was then as fatal to earthly happiness as it is fruitful, in all times, for the eternal bliss of those who have accepted it.

The father and mother of Cecilia had remained in the darkness of infidelity; but they do not appear to have thwarted in their daughter this attachment to a religion that was gaining, day by day, greater consideration in Rome, and which counted followers even in the imperial palace. Whether out of tenderness or indifference, they did not hinder her in the profession of her worship, and let her attend the assemblies of the Christians. Cecilia could go to pray with the faithful in the churches where the mysteries of our faith were celebrated with a sort of publicity, in the days of calm that preceded the storm. She frequented the crypts of the martyrs, where often the anniversary of the triumph of these heroes of Christian society called the faithful of Rome; and the poor who kept the secret of Pope Urban's retreat knew her and honored her messages.

The Christians of that era lived with the thought of martyrdom; this expectation, so formidable to nature, did not make Cecilia's soul falter; on the contrary, she found in it a rest full of delights. Martyrdom would reunite her forever with Christ, who had deigned to choose her from the midst of a pagan family and reveal Himself to her. While awaiting this fortunate call, she lived in the depths of her heart in the company of this divine Master, and her conversations with Him ceased neither by day nor by night. Ravished by the charm of His interior word, she sought Him at every hour in the holy oracles, and the book of the Gospels, hidden under her garments, rested continually upon her breast. Cecilia received from this sacred contact a strength that raised her above weak nature, and the virtue of the words that are spirit and life was communicated to her.

The hand of the heavenly Spouse alone could claim to pluck this flower that rose so fresh and so sweet from the midst of the thorns of heathendom, and He inspired in Cecilia's heart a love worthy of Him who had loved her on the cross. The virgin responded forever to the advances of a God, and swore in her heart that she would never admit a mortal spouse. Her celestial spouse takes care of her and lets her know it. Her guardian angel has received the order to show himself to her; he has assured her, and forever, of his protection; he will defend her against the world and its senses. She will always feel him near her; he is ready to strike with his avenging arm the reckless one who would dare to covet the treasure of heaven.

However, the age of marriage approaches: despite her vow of virginity, Cecilia, to obey the will of her parents, is obliged to become betrothed to a young pagan named Valerian. The nobi lity of Valérien Husband of Saint Cecilia, convert and martyr. this young patrician, his beauty, and the qualities of his soul seemed to make him worthy of such an honor, and he aspired with ardor to the day when he would finally possess her whom so many other young patricians envied him. The happy fiancé had a brother named Tiburtiu s, whom Tiburce Brother of Valerian, converted by Cecilia and martyr. he loved with that frank and devoted affection which formed one of the principal traits of his character. He thought with happiness that his union with Cecilia would further tighten these dear bonds, by associating with their mutual friendship the tenderness of such an accomplished sister.

Cecilia had therefore not been free to reject the testimonies of Valerian's affection. Filled with esteem for the qualities of this young pagan, she would have loved him as a brother; but she was his fiancée, and the wedding day was about to arrive with all its alarms. Who could depict the anguish of the virgin? The irresistible command of her parents and the ardor of the young man chilled her with fear, and she could only repress into the depths of her soul the chaste secret of this love which had obtained the irrevocable empire of her heart. She knew that her angel was watching near her; but soon she would have to struggle herself; it was time to prepare for the combat. Under the gold embroidery of a sumptuous robe, a hair shirt bruised her innocent flesh. This severe armor subjected the senses to the law of the spirit; the flesh would be less rebellious to the sacrifice if soon, a victim of the love of Christ, Cecilia had to pay with her blood for the honor of having been preferred by this divine Spouse. Condemned to live in the midst of patrician softness, she took her precautions against herself; she blunted through voluntary suffering the attraction of pleasure that tyrannizes the children of Eve, and which too often reveals to the imprudent and inattentive soul the abysses of the human heart.

If, following the example of the widow of Bethulia, Cecilia hid the instrument of her penance under her clothes, like David she also weakened her flesh through rigorous fasts. According to the custom of the early Christians, when they wished to move heaven or obtain some signal grace, she abstained from food for two days, sometimes for three days, taking only in the evening the meal that was to sustain her life. These courageous advances, by which she sought to ensure her victory, were made even more effective by the ardent and continual prayer that escaped from her heart. With what insistence she recommended to the Lord the hour for which she trembled! With how many tears and sighs she implored the heavenly Spirits who cooperate in the salvation of our souls, the holy Apostles, patrons and founders of Christian Rome, the blessed inhabitants of heaven who protect our battles!

Finally, the day has arrived when Valerian is to receive the hand of Cecilia. Everything is in motion in the palace of the Caecilii; the young man's heart thrills with happiness, and the two families, proud to be united in their noble offspring, salute the hope of a posterity worthy of their ancestors. Cecilia is brought forth; she advances in the nuptial attire of the patricians. A tunic of white wool, plain, adorned with ribbons and tightened by a belt also of white wool, forms her garment and represents the candor of her soul. The hair of the virgin, parted in six braids, imitates the hairstyle of the Vestals, a touching symbol of Cecilia's consecration. A flame-colored veil hides her modest features from the gaze of the profane, without stealing them from the admiration of the angels. In this solemn moment, however, the heart of the virgin is firm and without trouble; she leans her weakness on the help of the angel who protects her. A stranger until then to pagan rites, Cecilia is forced to endure the spectacle. The offering of wine and milk is accomplished in the presence of the virgin, who turns away her eyes. The cake, symbol of the alliance, is broken, and the timid hand of Cecilia, adorned with the invisible ring of the fiancées of Christ, is placed in that of Valerian. Everything is consummated in the eyes of men, and the virgin over whom heaven watches has taken one more step toward peril.

At nightfall, according to ancient custom, the new bride is led to the home of her husband. Valerian's house was located in the Transtiberine region, near the Via Salutaris, a short distance from the Cestius Bridge, which connects the Tiber Island to the Janiculum district. This dwelling, which was to receive Cecilia, would soon surpass in glory the palaces, baths, and temples that surrounded it, and of which the antiquarian today has difficulty finding a trace. A sanctuary consecrated by the blood of the virgin, it was to survive all the disasters of Rome, and proclaim throughout the centuries the fidelity of her who rested for a few days under its roof.

The nuptial torches preceded the procession that led Cecilia to her husband. The crowd applauded the graces of the young virgin who conversed in her heart with God. They arrived at the threshold of the palace. Under the portico adorned with white hangings on which garlands of flowers and greenery were drawn in festoons, Valerian awaited Cecilia. According to ancient custom, the husband began with this interrogation: "Who are you?" he said. The bride replied: "Where you are Gaius, I shall be Gaia." The allusion was even more touching to the marriage of a daughter of the Caecilius family; for this formula was also a memory of Caia Caecilia, venerated by the Romans as the type of woman devoted to household cares. Cecilia crossed the threshold of the house. There is reason to believe that her status as a Christian meant she was spared the superstitious rites with which the Romans accompanied the moment when the bride entered under the conjugal roof. The customs that followed were more appropriate. Water was presented to the bride, as a sign of the purity with which she was to be adorned; then she was given a key, a symbol of the internal administration that was henceforth entrusted to her; finally, she sat for a moment on a wool fleece, which was to remind her of the domestic tasks to which she should not fear to devote herself. The spouses then went into the Triclinium, where the wedding supper was served. During the feast, the epithalamium celebrating the union of Valerian and Cecilia was sung, and a choir of musicians made the hall resound with the harmonious sound of instruments. In the midst of these profane concerts, Cecilia also sang, but in her heart, and her melody united with that of the angels. She repeated to the Lord this stanza of the Psalmist, which she adapted to her situation: "May my heart, may my senses always remain pure, O my God, and may my modesty never be harmed!" Christendom, which every year repeats these words of the virgin on the day of her triumph, has kept faithful memory of them, and, to honor the sublime concert that Cecilia performed with the celestial spirits, far beyond the melodies of the earth, it has hailed her forever as the queen of harmony.

After the feast, matrons guided the trembling steps of Cecilia to the doors of the nuptial apartment, decorated with all the Roman luxury, but made even more imposing by the silence and darkness. Valerian followed in the footsteps of the virgin. When they were alone, suddenly Cecilia, filled with the virtue from on high, addressed these sweet and naive words to her husband: "Young and tender friend, I have a secret to entrust to you, but swear to me that you will know how to respect it." Valerian swears with ardor that he will keep Cecilia's secret, and that nothing in the world will be able to force his mouth to reveal it. "Listen," the virgin continues, "I have as a friend an angel of God who watches over my body with solicitude. If he sees that, in the slightest thing, you dare to act toward me through the impulse of a sensual love, suddenly his fury will ignite against you, and under the blows of his vengeance you will succumb in the flower of your brilliant youth. If, on the contrary, he sees that you love me with a sincere heart and an unstained love, if you keep my virginity entire and inviolable, he will love you as he loves me and will lavish his favors upon you." Troubled to the depths of his soul, the young man, whom grace already masters without his knowing it, replies to the virgin: "Cecilia, if you want me to believe your word, make me see this angel. When I have seen him, if I recognize him as the angel of God, I will do what you exhort me to do; but if you love another man, know that I will pierce you both with my sword."

The virgin replies with an ineffable authority: "Valerian, if you want to follow my advice, if you consent to be purified in the waters of the fountain that gushes eternally, if you want to believe in the one, living, and true God who reigns in the heavens, your eye will be able to see the angel who watches over my guard." — "And who is the one who will purify me, so that I may see your angel?" replied Valerian. Cecilia answered: "There exists an old man who purifies men, after which they can see the angel of God." — "This old man, where will I find him?" said Valerian. — "Leave the city by the Appian Way," replied Cecilia; "go as far as the third military column. There, you will find poor people who ask for alms from those who pass by. These poor people are the object of my constant solicitude and my secret is known to them. When you are near them, you will give them my greeting of blessing; you will say to them: 'Cecilia sends me to you, so that you may make me see the holy old man Urban; I have a secret message to transmit to him.' Arrived in the presence of the old man, you will repeat to him the words that I am saying to you at this moment; he will purify you and clothe you in new and white garments. Upon your return, when entering this room where I am speaking to you, you will see the holy angel become your friend as well, and you will obtain from him everything you ask of him."

Driven by an unknown force, the young Roman, lately so hot-headed, leaves without effort the virgin whose sweet accents have changed his heart. He sets out and, at the first light of day, he arrives near Urban, having found all things as Cecilia had announced to him. He tells the Pontiff of the conversation in the nuptial chamber, which alone can explain the presence of Valerian in these places. The old man is filled with joy, he falls to his knees and, raising his arms toward heaven, he cries out with eyes full of tears: "Lord Jesus Christ, author of chaste resolutions, receive the fruit of the divine seed that you have deposited in the heart of Cecilia. Good Shepherd, Cecilia, your servant, like an eloquent sheep, has fulfilled the mission that you entrusted to her. This husband whom she had received like an impetuous lion, she has in an instant made the gentlest of lambs. If Valerian did not already believe, he would not have come here. Open, Lord, the door of his heart to your words, so that he may recognize that you are his Creator and that he may renounce the demon, his pomps, and his idols!" Urban prayed for a long time and Valerian was moved in all the powers of his soul. Suddenly there appears to the eyes of the young man and the Pontiff a venerable old man covered in garments white as snow and holding in his hand a book written in letters of gold. It was the great Paul, the apostle of the Gentiles, the second pillar of the Roman Church. At this imposing sight, Valerian, seized with terror, falls as if dead, face to the ground. The august old man raises him with kindness and says to him: "Read the words of this book and believe; you will deserve to be purified and to contemplate the angel whose sight the most faithful virgin Cecilia has promised you." Valerian raises his eyes and begins to read without uttering a word. The passage was conceived as follows: "One Lord, one faith, one baptism: one God, Father of all things, who is above all and in us all." When he had finished reading, the old man said to him: "Do you believe that it is so?" Valerian cried out with force: "Nothing more true under heaven; nothing that should be believed more firmly." As he finished these words, the old man disappeared, and left Valerian alone with the Pontiff. Urban did not delay in leading the young man to the fountain of salvation, and when he had admitted him to the most august mysteries of the faith of Christ, he told him to return to his wife.

Cecilia had conquered, and the first trophy of her victory was the heart of Valerian offered forever to the Savior of men. During the absence of her husband, she had not left the nuptial chamber, still resounding with the sublime conversation of the night, all perfumed with the celestial fragrance of virginity. She had prayed without ceasing for the consummation of the great work that her word had begun and she awaited with confidence the return of a husband who would be dearer to her than ever.

Valerian, still covered with the white tunic of the neophytes that he had barely just put on, arrived at the door of the chamber. He enters, and his respectful gaze meets Cecilia prostrate in prayer, and near her the angel of the Lord, with a face shining with a thousand fires, with wings brilliant with the richest colors. The blessed spirit held in his hands two crowns intertwined with roses and lilies. He places one on the head of Cecilia, the other on that of Valerian, and letting the accents of heaven be heard, he says to the two spouses: "Deserve to keep these crowns by the purity of your hearts and by the holiness of your bodies; it is from the garden of heaven that I bring them to you. These flowers will never fade, their perfume will always be just as sweet; but no one will be able to see them unless he has deserved, like you, by his purity, the complacencies of heaven. Now, O Valerian, because you have acquiesced to the chaste desire of Cecilia, Christ, Son of God, has sent me to you to receive any request that you might address to him."

The young man, seized with gratitude, prostrated himself at the feet of the divine messenger, and dared to express his desire thus: "Nothing in this life is sweeter to me than the affection of my brother; it would be cruel to me, who am now freed from peril, to leave this beloved brother in danger of being lost. I will therefore reduce all my requests to one: I beg Christ to deliver my brother Tiburtius, as he has delivered me myself, and to make us both perfect in the confession of his name." Then the angel, turning toward Valerian a face radiant with that joy with which the blessed Spirits in heaven thrill when the sinner returns to God, answered him: "Because you have asked for a grace that Christ is even more eager to grant you than you are to desire it yourself, just as he won your heart through Cecilia his servant, so you yourself will win the heart of your brother, and both of you will arrive at the palm of martyrdom."

The angel ascended to the heavens, and left the two spouses in the fullness

of their happiness. Cecilia glorified the Master of hearts who had displayed with such brilliance the riches of His mercy; she thrilled at the sight of the roses mingled with the lilies on Valerian's crown as on her own, to announce that he too would share in the honors of martyrdom. Tiburtius would share the palm with his brother; but the fortunate prediction had not extended to her. The virgin was therefore to survive the two brothers and assist them in the combat; until then, heaven had not manifested its decrees any further. The two spouses poured out their hearts in a delightful conversation that was still ongoing when Tiburtius entered, impatient to see his brother again. As the wife of his beloved brother, Cecilia had become his sister; Tiburtius approached her with a brotherly kiss; but what was his surprise to feel emanating from the virgin's hair a fragrance that recalled that of the freshest flowers of spring! It was the month when winter tempers its rigors, without yet allowing nature to resume its life and splendor. "Whence comes, Cecilia, this scent of roses and lilies, in the season we are in?" cried Tiburtius. "Even if I held in my hands at this moment the most fragrant bundle of these flowers, it would not spread a perfume equal to the one I am breathing. This marvelous scent transports me; it seems to me that it renews my whole being." — "It is I, O Tiburtius!" replied Valerian, "it is I who have obtained for you the favor of smelling this sweet odor; if you wish to believe, you will even merit seeing the flowers from which it emanates. It is then that you will know Him whose blood is crimson like the roses, and whose flesh is white like the lilies. Cecilia and I wear crowns that your eyes cannot yet see; the flowers that compose them have the brilliance of purple and the purity of snow." — "Is it a dream, O Valerian!" cried Tiburtius, "or do you speak according to the truth?" — "Until now," replied the husband of Cecilia, "our life has been but a dream; now we are in the truth, and there is no lie in us; for the gods we worshipped are but demons." — "How... how do you know?" replied Tiburtius. — Valerian answered: "The Angel of God has instructed me, and you yourself will be able to see this beneficent Spirit, if you wish to purify yourself from the defilement of idols." — "And how long," replied Tiburtius, "must I wait for this purification that will make me worthy to see the Angel of God?" — "It will be prompt," resumed Valerian, "only swear to me that you renounce idols, and that there is but one God in the heavens." — "I do not understand," said Tiburtius, "to what end you demand this promise of me.

Cecilia had remained silent during this dialogue between the two brothers; she had had to leave the floor to the neophyte, in the ardor of the zeal that pressed upon him. Moreover, it was just that Valerian should speak first to Tiburtius; but the virgin, nourished from her earliest years in the evangelical doctrine, possessed better than her husband the language that needed to be held to a Gentile to detach him from idols. Borrowing therefore the arguments of the ancient Prophets, of the Christian apologists, and of the martyrs before their judges, she spoke on the vanity of idols and the impiety of pagan worship, with all the force and charm of eloquence.

Tiburtius, struck by the evidence of her reasoning and touched by grace, cried out vividly: "Yes, it is so, and he who does not understand it has descended to the level of the brute." At this response, Cecilia, transported with joy, rose and clasped in her arms this pagan who was beginning to taste the light; "It is today," she said to him, "that I recognize you as my brother. The love of the Lord has made your brother my husband; the contempt you profess for idols makes me your true sister. The moment has come when you are going to believe; go then with your brother to receive regeneration. It is then that you will see the angels, and that you will obtain the pardon of all your faults." Then Tiburtius, addressing Valerian: "Who is the man to whom you are going to lead me?" — "A great personage," replied Valerian; "he is named Urban, an old man with white hair, with an angelic face, with truthful discourses filled with wisdom." — "Could it not be," said Tiburtius, "this Urban whom the Christians call their Pope? I have heard it said that he has already been condemned twice, and that he keeps himself hidden in I know not what underground passages. If he is discovered, he will be delivered to the flames, and we, if we are found with him, will share his fate. Thus, for having wanted to seek a divinity that hides in the heavens, we will encounter on earth a cruel torment."

For having learned to disdain idols, Tiburtius was not yet at the point of despising the sufferings of this world; Cecilia came to his aid. "Indeed," she said to him, "if this life were the only one, if there were not another, it would be with reason that we would fear losing it; but if there is another life that will never end, must we then fear losing the one that passes, when, at the price of this sacrifice, we ensure for ourselves the one that will last forever?"

Such language was very new to a young man raised in this Roman society of the 3rd century, where reigned at once the most humiliating superstitions, a corruption of morals that had reached the level of Elagabalus, and all the aberrations of a skeptical philosophy; he therefore replied to the virgin: "I have never heard anything similar; could there then be another life after this one?" — "But," resumed Cecilia, "can one even call life that which we pass in this world? A toy of all the pains of body and soul, it ends in death which puts an end to pleasures as well as to anxieties. When it is finished, one would say that it had not even been; for that which is no more is as nothing. As for the second life that succeeds the first, it has joys without end for the just and eternal torments for the sinners." — "But," replied Tiburtius, "who has gone into this life; who has returned from it to teach us what happens there; upon what testimony can we believe in it?"

Then Cecilia, rising with the majesty of an apostle, made these imposing words heard: "The Creator of heaven and earth and of all that they contain has begotten a Son of His own substance, before all beings, and He has produced by His divine virtue the Holy Spirit; the Son, in order to create all things through Him, the Holy Spirit to vivify them. All that exists, the Son of God, begotten of the Father, has created; all that is created, the Holy Spirit, who proceeds from the Father, has animated." — "How!" cried Tiburtius, "just now you were saying, O Cecilia! that one must believe in only one God, who is in heaven, and now you speak of three Gods!" — Cecilia replied: "There is but one God in His majesty, and if you wish to conceive how He exists in a holy Trinity, listen to this comparison. A man possesses wisdom: by wisdom, we understand genius, memory, and intelligence; the genius that discovers truths, the memory that preserves them, the intelligence that explores them. Shall we recognize for that several wisdoms in the same man? If then a mortal possesses three faculties in a single wisdom, shall we hesitate to recognize a majestic Trinity in the unique essence of the almighty God?" Tiburtius, dazzled by the brilliance of such a high mystery, cried out: "O Cecilia! the human tongue could not rise to such luminous explanations; it is the Angel of God who speaks through your mouth." So vivid was the young man's gratitude toward this divine light whose rays were beginning to descend to him, that he no longer dared to address the virgin, interpreter of heaven; but turning toward his brother: "Valerian," he said to him, "I confess it, the mystery of one God no longer has anything that stops me; I desire only one thing, which is to hear the continuation of this discourse that must satisfy my doubts." — "It is to me, Tiburtius, that you must address yourself," resumed Cecilia. "Your brother, still clothed in the white robe, is not in a position to answer all your requests; but me, instructed from the cradle in the wisdom of Christ, you will find ready on all the questions that it will please you to propose." — "Well then!" said Tiburtius, "I ask who is the one who made you know this other life that you both announce to me?"

The virgin, resuming her discourse with a truly divine enthusiasm, retraced in a magnificent tableau the life of Jesus Christ and the foundation of the Church. She ended thus: "Now, O Tiburtius! I think I have omitted nothing to satisfy your request; see then if it is not appropriate to despise from the bottom of one's heart this present life and to seek with ardor and courage the one that must follow it. He who has faith in the Son of God and who attaches himself to His commandments will not even be touched by death, when he lays down this perishable body; but he will be received by the holy angels and led into the happy region of paradise. But death unites with the demon to chain men by a thousand distractions and preoccupies their imprudence with a crowd of necessities that it suggests to them. Sometimes it is a misfortune to come that intimidates them, sometimes a gain to seize that captivates them; it is sensual beauty that charms them, it is intemperance that carries them away; finally, by all kinds of bait, death ensures that, to their misfortune, they think only of the present life, so that their souls, at the exit from the bodies, are found entirely naked and having upon them only the weight of their sins. I feel it, O Tiburtius! I have only touched upon a few points of such a vast subject; if you wish to hear more from me, I am ready."

But the young pagan had understood everything, and the rapid discourse of Cecilia renewed his entire soul. His tears flowed in abundance and he burst into sobs. His soul, still new, did not have that impenetrable bark that vice forms and maintains in men jaded by pleasures or by greed. "Oh! if ever," he cried, throwing himself at the feet of Cecilia, "my heart and my thoughts attach themselves to the present life, I consent to no longer enjoy the one that must succeed it. Let the foolish gather, if it suits them, the advantages of time; until this hour, I have lived without a goal, I do not want it to be so anymore." After this promise made in the hands of the virgin whose apostle's heart thrilled with happiness, Tiburtius turned toward Valerian: "Beloved brother," he said to him, "have pity on me. No more delays; all delay frightens me and I can no longer bear the weight that overwhelms me. Lead me at once before the man of God, I beseech you, so that he may purify me and make me a participant in this life whose desire consumes me." Barely two days had passed since those nuptials whose approach had caused so much alarm to Cecilia, and already Christian virginity, always fruitful in souls, had produced such glorious fruits. The faithful wife, as the Apostle speaks, had sanctified the unbelieving husband, and the latter, by the merit of his faith, had obtained the soul of his brother.

Valerian and Tiburtius took leave of Cecilia. Arriving at the feet of the Pontiff, they recounted what had happened since the neophyte's return to his wife, and the old man gave thanks to the Lord who had provided such sweet triumphs for his faithful servant. He received Tiburtius with joy, and the young man soon descended into the pool of salvation, from which he emerged purified, lightened, and breathing with delight the pure air of this new life he had so ardently desired. After regenerating Valerian and Tiburtius in the waters of baptism, the holy Pope Urban consecrated them, by the anointing of the Holy Spirit, as soldiers of Christ. They were ready for the combat: the combat would soon begin. In the absence of Emperor Alexander, who was favorable to the Christians, the prefect o f Rome, Turcius A Turcius Almachius Prefect of Rome who ordered the martyrdom of Cecilia and her companions. lmachius, persecuted them cruelly. His violence first extended to that part of the numerous Christian community of Rome that belonged to the common people. The carnage was considerable, all the more so because the prefect feared fewer complaints from that quarter. Not content with tearing the limbs of the faithful with all sorts of tortures, Almachius wanted their bodies to remain unburied. We know the zeal that the early Christians showed in burying their martyr brothers, and how many of them met the immortal crown while performing this pious duty for those who had already obtained it.

Valerian and Tiburtius distinguished themselves among all the Christians of Rome by their eagerness to seek out the immolated bodies of their brothers. They were seen dedicating their treasures to preparing burials for these generous athletes, poor according to the flesh, but already kings in the palaces of heaven. Jealous to show their respect for these glorious remains, they did not spare even the most precious perfumes, while at the same time they provided, through abundant alms and all works of mercy, for the Christian families whom the loss of their heads or principal members had left devoid of the resources necessary for life. The two brothers were not long in being denounced to the prefect Almachius. They were both arrested and brought before the prefect's tribunal. He did not intend to be severe with these two patricians whom he had summoned to his bar; he simply wanted to intimidate them and obtain satisfaction for the public violation they had dared to commit against his orders.

"How!" he said to them, "you, the offspring of such a noble family, can you have degenerated from your blood to the point of associating yourselves with the most superstitious of sects? I learn that you squander your fortune in profusion on people of low condition, and that you go so far as to bury with all sorts of honors wretches who have been punished for their crimes. Are we to conclude that they are your accomplices, and that this is the motive that leads you to give them an honorable burial?" One could easily see from this language of the prefect that he had acted without orders from the prince in the violence exercised against the Christians; he invoked no edict, and preferred to impute to imaginary crimes the cruel death that so many of the faithful had suffered by the effect of his sentences.

The younger of the two brothers spoke: "Would to heaven!" cried Tiburtius, "that they would deign to admit us to the number of their severities, those whom you call our accomplices! They have had the happiness of despising what appears to be something, and yet is nothing; in dying they have obtained what does not yet appear, and which nevertheless is the only reality. May we imitate their holy life, and walk one day in their footsteps!" — "Well then," said Almachius, "tell me what it is that appears to be something, and is nothing." — "Everything that is in this world," replied Tiburtius sharply, "everything that drags souls into the eternal death to which the felicities of time lead." — "Now, tell me," resumed Almachius, "what is it that does not yet appear, and is nevertheless the only reality?" — "It is," said Tiburtius, "the future life for the just, and the coming punishment for the unjust. Both are approaching, and through a sad illusion, we turn the eyes of our heart away, so as not to see this inevitable future. The eyes of our body stop at the objects of time, and lying to our own conscience, we dare to use terms that befit only evil to tarnish what is good, and to decorate evil itself with the qualifications that serve to designate the good."

Valerian, in discussing with Almachius, supported like his brother the inanity of earthly pleasures and the eternal reality of heavenly goods. "I have seen," he said, "in the winter time men crossing the countryside, amidst games and laughter, and giving themselves over to all pleasures. At the same time, I perceived in the fields several villagers who were working the earth with ardor, planting vines and grafting roses onto briars; others were grafting fruit trees or clearing away with iron the shrubs that could harm their plantations; all, in short, were giving themselves vigorously to the work of cultivation." The men of pleasure, having considered these villagers, began to mock their arduous labors, and they said: "Wretches that you are, leave these superfluous toils; come and rejoice with us, and share our amusements and transports. Why tire yourselves so in such rough work? Why wear out the time of life in such sad occupations?" They accompanied these words with bursts of laughter, clapping of hands, and insulting provocations. To the season of rain and cold succeeded the serene days, and behold, the fields cultivated by so many efforts were covered with thick foliage, the bushes displayed their flowering roses, the grape cluster descended in festoons along the vine, and from the trees hung delicious fruits on all sides. These villagers, whose fatigues had seemed insane, were in joy; but the frivolous inhabitants of the city who had boasted of being the wisest found themselves in a frightful famine, and regretting, but too late, their soft idleness, they soon lamented, and said among themselves: "Yet these are the ones we pursued with our mockery. The works to which they gave themselves seemed to us a shame; their way of life filled us with horror, so miserable did it seem to us. Their persons seemed to us vile and their company without honor. The fact, however, has proven that they were wise, just as it demonstrates how unhappy, vain, and foolish we were. We did not work; far from coming to their aid, from the bosom of our delights we mocked them, and they are now surrounded by flowers and crowned with glory."

It was thus that the young patrician, whose grave and gentle character formed such an amiable contrast with the impetuous nature of his brother, imitated the language of Solomon, and withered the vanities of the world in the very heart of the most vain and voluptuous of cities. Almachius had listened to the end of Valerian's speech; taking up the word in his turn, he said to him: "You have spoken with eloquence, I acknowledge; but I do not see that you have answered my question." — "Let me finish," replied Valerian. "You have treated us as fools and madmen, under the pretext that we pour out our riches into the bosom of the poor, that we give hospitality to strangers, that we help widows and orphans, and finally that we collect the bodies of the martyrs and give them honorable burials. According to you, our folly consists in our refusal to plunge into voluptuousness, in our disdain to prevail in the eyes of the people by the advantages of our birth. A time will come when we will reap the fruit of our privations. We will then rejoice; but they will weep, those who now exult in their pleasures. The present time is given to us to sow; now, those who sow in joy in this life will reap mourning and groaning in the other, while those who sow passing tears today will harvest an endless joy in the future."

Almachius, to finish, said to the two brothers: "Enough of useless speeches; no more of these lengths that waste time. Offer libations to the gods, and you will leave without having to suffer any penalty." It was not a question of burning incense to idols, nor of taking part in a sacrifice; a simple libation, barely noticed by the bystanders, would clear the two brothers of all charges and cover the dignity of the magistrate. Valerian and Tiburtius replied at once: "Every day we offer our sacrifices to God, but not to the gods." — "Who is the God," asked the Prefect, "to whom you thus pay your homage?" The two brothers replied: "Is there then another, that you ask us such a question about God? Are there then more than one?" Then Valerian showed that the plurality of gods was an absurd doctrine. "So," resumed Almachius, "the entire universe is in error; your brother and you are the only ones to know the true God!" At these words of the Prefect, a noble and holy pride stirred in the heart of Valerian, and proclaiming before this superb magistrate the immense progress of the Christian faith, which Tertullian had recently denounced to the Roman Senate in his Apologetic, he said: "Do not deceive yourself, Almachius; the Christians, those who have embraced this holy doctrine, can no longer be counted in the empire. It is you who will soon form the minority; you are those planks that float on the sea after a shipwreck, and which have no other destination than to be put to the fire."

Almachius, irritated by the generous audacity of Valerian, ordered that he be beaten with rods; he still hesitated to pronounce the death penalty against him. The lictors immediately stripped the young man, and his joy at suffering for the name of Jesus Christ burst forth in these courageous words: "Here then has arrived the hour that I awaited with such ardor; here is the day that is sweeter to me than all the feasts of the world." While they were cruelly striking the husband of Cecilia, the voice of a herald made these words resound: "Beware of blaspheming the gods and goddesses." At the same time, and through the sound of the blows of the rods, one could hear the energetic voice of Valerian addressing the multitude: "Citizens of Rome," he cried, "let not the spectacle of these torments prevent you from confessing the truth. Be firm in your faith; believe in the Lord, who alone is holy. Destroy the gods of wood and stone to whom Almachius burns his incense; reduce them to powder and know that those who adore them will be punished by eternal torments."

During this execution, Almachius hesitated on the fate of the two brothers. Tarquinius, his assessor, to resolve his uncertainties, said to him in private: "Condemn them to death, the occasion is favorable. If you delay, they will continue to distribute their riches to the poor, and when they have finally been punished with the capital penalty, you will find nothing left." Almachius understood this language. His interests could be common with those of the treasury; he therefore resolved not to let his prey escape. The two brothers were again brought before him; Valerian, his body bloodied by the rods, and Tiburtius, holily jealous that his brother had been preferred to him in the honor of suffering for Jesus Christ. The sentence was immediately rendered; it was common to both young patricians and stated that they would be led to the Pagus Triopius, on the Appian Way, towards the fourth military milestone. At the edge of the road stood a temple of Jupiter which served as an entrance to the pagus. Valerian and Tiburtius would be invited to burn incense before the idol, and, if they refused to do so, they would have their heads cut off.

It was done; the two brothers, dragged by the soldiery, set out for the place of their martyrdom. Maximus, a clerk of Almachius, had been chosen to accompany them. It was for him to account to the prefect for the outcome of this formidable drama. He was to bring back Tiburtius and Valerian free, if they sacrificed to the gods, or to certify their execution, if they persisted in the profession of Christianity. At the sight of these two young patricians who walked with such a light step toward the torture and spoke to each other with a quiet joy and an ineffable tenderness, Maximus could not hold back his tears, and addressing them: "O noble and brilliant flower of Roman youth! O b rother Maxime 4th-century martyr bishop, brother of Saint Venerandus. s united by such a tender love! You persist then in the contempt of the gods, and, at the moment of losing all things, you run to death as to a feast!" Tiburtius replied to him: "If we were not assured that the life which must succeed this one will last forever, do you think we would show so much joy at this hour?" — "And what can this other life be?" said Maximus. — "As the body is covered by clothes," replied Tiburtius, "so the soul is clothed with the body, and just as one strips the body of its clothes, so it will be for the soul with regard to the body. The body, whose coarse origin is the earth, will be returned to the earth; it will be reduced to dust to rise again, like the phoenix, to the light that is to rise. As for the soul, if it is pure, it will be transported into the delights of paradise, to wait there, in the midst of the most intoxicating felicities, for the resurrection of its body."

This unexpected discourse made a vivid impression on Maximus; it was the first time he had heard language opposed to the materialism in which pagan ignorance had plunged his entire life. He made a movement toward this new light that was revealing itself to him. "If I had the certainty of this future life of which you speak to me," he replied to Tiburtius, "I feel that I too would be disposed to despise the present life." Then Valerian, full of a holy ardor communicated to him by the divine Spirit, addressed Maximus thus: "Since you need only the proof of the truth that we have announced to you, receive the promise that I make to you at this moment. At the hour when the Lord will grant us the grace to lay down the garment of our body for the confession of his name, he will deign to open your eyes, so that you may see the glory into which we will enter. Only one condition is attached to this favor, which is that you repent of your past errors." — "I accept," said Maximus, "and I devote myself to the thunderbolts of heaven, if from this very hour I do not confess the one God who makes another life succeed this one. It is now up to you to keep your promise and to make me see the effect of it."

By this response, Maximus was already offering his name to the militia of Jesus Christ; but the two brothers did not want to leave the earth before he had obtained, before their eyes, the benefit of regeneration. They therefore said to him: "Persuade the people who are to immolate us to lead us to the house; they will keep us in sight. It is only a delay of one day. We will bring the one who must purify you and, from this night, you will already see what we have promised you." Maximus did not hesitate for an instant. All the calculations of the present life, its fears and its hopes, were already nothing in his eyes. He led the martyrs to his house with the escort that accompanied them and, immediately, Valerian and Tiburtius began to explain the Christian doctrine to him. The clerk's family, the soldiers themselves attended the preaching of the two apostles, and all, divinely struck by their language, so true and so solemn, wanted to believe in Jesus Christ.

Cecilia had been warned of what was happening by a message from Valerian. Her fervent prayers had undoubtedly contributed to obtaining such a great effusion of grace, but it was necessary to consummate the divine work in these men so quickly conquered to the faith of Christ. Cecilia arranged all things with zeal and wisdom, and, when night had arrived, she entered the house of Maximus, followed by several priests whom she brought with her. The priests baptized the new converts.

The next day was to be the day of martyrdom for Valerian and for Tiburtius. At dawn, the voice of Cecilia gave, through these words of the great Paul, the signal for departure: "Let us go," she cried, "soldiers of Christ, cast off the works of darkness and put on the armor of light. You have fought worthily, you have finished your course, you have kept the faith. Walk to the crown of life that the just Judge will give to you and to all those who love his coming." The heroic troop set out to the inspired accents of the young virgin. The two confessors were led by the new Christian Maximus, escorted by soldiers whose foreheads were still damp with the baptismal dew. The acts do not tell us if Cecilia followed her husband and her brother to the place of triumph.

The martyrs and their pious escort made their way toward the Appian Way. Along the tombs that bordered it, their march was directed toward the Pagus Triopius. The memory of Peter meeting, in these same places, the Savior carrying his cross, redoubled the courage of the two brothers. To the right and to the left, the crypts silently extended their vast and deep galleries, and the martyrs could salute in passing the bed of their glorious rest. The mysterious valley where the holy Apostles slept undoubtedly drew their gaze and their thought, at this moment when they were preparing to join them in eternal felicity. Opposite was the retreat of Urban, in the midst of which they had recently drawn the immortal hope, to which they were sacrificing today so generously the joys of the present life. Toward the summit of the last hill, they passed near the tomb of Metella, and Valerian could read there the name of Cecilia, of that wife whom heaven had given him, and to whom he owed much more than the happiness of here below. He was preceding her by only a few days, and soon their two souls would be united forever in their unique homeland. The furies of Almachius made it quite clear that the hour was approaching for the noble virgin.

The only desire of Valerian was henceforth to rest near her, under the vaults of the city of the martyrs, far from the profane pomp of their ancestors.

They arrived at the Pagus. The priests of Jupiter were waiting with incense. Tiburtius and Valerian were invited to pay their homage to the false divinity; they refused, knelt down, and stretched out their necks to the executioners. The Christian soldiers not being able to draw the sword on martyrs, other arms offered themselves, and these two glorious heads received at the same blow death and the crown of life. At that moment, heaven opened to the eyes of Maximus, and he glimpsed for an instant the felicity of the Saints.

The zeal of the faithful managed to subtract the bodies of the two heroes, and Cecilia was put in possession of these dear and holy remains. She herself buried the body of her husband and her brother, and nothing was missing from this Christian burial, neither the tears of farewell and hope, nor the perfumes, nor the triumphal stone on which the faithful loved to engrave the palm and the crown, symbols of the most brilliant victory. The cemetery of Praetextatus, on the left of the Appian Way, after the second mile, received the two martyrs.

The happy witnesses of the martyrdom of Valerian and Tiburtius had returned to Rome, full of admiration for the courage of those who had been their initiators into the secrets of eternal life, and all aspired to follow them as soon as possible. Maximus especially felt himself burning with a divine fire, and he did not cease to repeat that he had glimpsed the dawn of the eternal day. "At the moment when the sword struck the martyrs," he said, affirming it with an oath, "I saw the angels of God resplendent like suns. I saw the soul of Valerian and that of Tiburtius leaving their bodies, like young brides adorned for the nuptial feast. The angels received them in their arms, and carried them to heaven on their wings." In saying these words, he shed tears of joy and desire. Many pagans were converted after hearing him; they renounced idols, and submitted, with a sincere faith, to the one God, creator of all things.

The conversion of the clerk Maximus reached the ears of Almachius; he was all the more irritated that this courageous defection had had numerous imitators, not only in the family of Maximus, but also outside. The fate of this officer of Roman justice was soon fixed. He did not have his head cut off like the two patricians; the Prefect ordered that he be beaten to death with whips armed with lead balls, which was the punishment for persons of an inferior rank.

The martyr generously rendered to God the soul whose value and destiny Valerian and Tiburtius had revealed to him. Cecilia herself wanted to bury him with her own hands. She chose for him a sepulcher near those where her husband and her brother rested, and by a touching search, the emblem she had engraved on the tombstone was that of the phoenix, in memory of the allusion that Tiburtius had borrowed from this marvelous bird, to give Maximus the idea of the resurrection of our bodies.

However, Almachius was enforcing the sentence of confiscation which, according to Roman law, had followed the execution of the two patricians. By his orders, they were searching for the goods that formed their estate, the money and precious furniture they had left behind when they departed this life. But the provident and charitable wife of Valerian had forestalled the exactions of the treasury by distributing to the poor all that remained of this rich inheritance. On the eve of her departure for her true homeland, the virgin was sending all her treasures ahead of her.

Cecilia was too well known in Rome for the nobility of her status; the death of her husband and that of her brother had been too prominent, and her profession of Christianity had become too public for the Prefect of Rome to refrain for long from demanding satisfaction from her for the gods of the empire. Nevertheless, Almachius at first showed some hesitation. He would have wished to stop on the cruel path into which his passions had led him and not to cover himself further with the blood of this young lady whose virtue, modesty, and graces were the admiration of all who approached her. Desiring, as much as possible, to avoid the notoriety of a trial that could end in a tragic manner, and which would increasingly compromise the responsibility of a magistrate acting in the absence of the emperor and without express orders, he sent officers of justice to the virgin's home to propose that she sacrifice to the idols, hoping to obtain, without a public demonstration, a result sufficient to cover his honor as a judge.

Almachius's men went to Cecilia's dwelling and presented the prefect's proposal to her. The virgin easily discerned the emotion that her demeanor, full of sweetness and dignity, first caused them. Respect, deference, and the embarrassment of having to fulfill such a mission before her appeared in their words and even in their attitude. Cecilia answered them with a heavenly calm: "Fellow citizens and brothers, listen to me. You are the officers of your magistrate, and, in the depths of your hearts, you abhor his impious conduct. As for me, it is glorious and desirable for me to suffer all torments to confess Jesus Christ; for I have never had the slightest attachment to this life. But I pity you, who seem to me still in the age of youth, for the misfortune you have of being thus at the orders of a judge filled with injustice." At this speech, the officers of Almachius could not restrain their tears, and they lamented seeing a young patrician so noble, so beautiful, and so wise, running to death with such eagerness; they begged her not to allow so many charms and so much glory to become the prey of death.

The virgin interrupted them with these words: "To die for Christ is not to sacrifice one's youth, but to renew it; it is to give a little mud to receive gold; to exchange a narrow and vile dwelling for a magnificent palace; to offer a perishable thing and receive in return an immortal good. If today someone were to place gold coins at your disposal, on the sole condition of giving him in return as many coins of a vile currency of the same weight, would you not show yourselves eager for such an advantageous exchange? Would you not urge your parents, your allies, your friends to take part as you do in this good fortune? Those who would want to turn you away from it, if they went so far as to shed tears, you would deem them foolish and ill-advised. However, all your eagerness would have resulted only in procuring for you a precious, but earthly, metal in exchange for another coarser metal, and at equal weight. Jesus Christ, our God, is not content to give thus weight for weight; but what one offers Him, He returns a hundredfold, while adding eternal life as well."

Subjugated by this speech, those present could no longer contain their emotion. In the transport of her apostolic zeal, Cecilia climbed onto a marble slab that was near her, and with an inspired voice, she cried out: "Do you believe what I have just told you?" All answered at once: "Yes, we believe that Christ, the Son of God, who possesses such a servant, is the true God." — "Go then," resumed Cecilia, "and tell the wretched Almachius that I ask for a delay; that he would be pleased to postpone my martyrdom a little. In this interval, you will return here, and you will find there the one who will make you participants in eternal life." The officers of Almachius, already Christians in their hearts, carried Cecilia's request to the prefect, and, by a secret disposition of divine Providence, Almachius refrained from giving the order to bring the virgin immediately before his tribunal.

Incontinent, the pontiff Urban received a message from Cecilia informing him of her coming martyrdom and of the new conquests that were being prepared for the faith of Jesus Christ. Not only the officers of Almachius, but a great number of other persons of every age, sex, and condition, mainly from the Transtiberine region, had felt the stirring of divine grace and aspired to baptism.

Urban wished to come himself to gather such a rich harvest and to bless one last time the heroic virgin who, in a few days, would extend her palm from the heights of heaven to the holy old man. The presence of the Pontiff was a vivid consolation for Cecilia. The baptism was celebrated with splendor, and more than four hundred people received the grace of regeneration. One of the neophytes was Gordian, a noble personage, to whom Cecilia, taking advantage of her last hours and wishing to avoid the reach of the treasury, ceded all her rights to her house, so that henceforth it might serve for Christian assemblies and increase, under the name of this patrician, the number of the Titles of Rome.

Urban fixed his dwelling, despite the perils, under Cecilia's roof, and this house was, for a few days, the center from which radiated the rays of grace that the Lord spread in Rome, for the advancement of the Church and the destruction of the empire of Satan.

Finally, Cecilia received the formal order to appear at the tribunal of Almachius. The virgin, all radiant with merits, appeared with assurance before the judge who was calling her to confess her faith. She found herself in front of the man whose hands were stained with the blood of her husband and her brother, in the middle of a praetorium where one saw on all sides the impure and sacrilegious images of the false gods; but the bride of Christ, who held the world under her feet, had never appeared more imposing by the dignity and ineffable modesty of her countenance. Rapt in Him who possessed all her heart, and who was finally calling her to the nuptials of eternity, her gaze only lowered to the earth with a sublime disdain. She was about to open her mouth to answer; but her words would only be a protest against this brutal force that sought to stop souls in their flight toward the infinite good. Her mission as an apostle was accomplished; the martyrs she had formed had preceded her to heaven; others would soon follow her; it only remained for her to render the final testimony whose price was the palm.

Almachius shuddered at the sight of a victim so gentle and so proud, and feigning not to recognize the daughter of Caecilius, he dared to open the interrogation thus: "Young girl, what is your name?" — "Before men, I am called Cecilia," answered the virgin, "but Christian is my most beautiful name." — "What is your condition?" — "Citizen of Rome, of illustrious and noble race." — "It is about your religion that I am questioning you; we know the nobility of your family." — "Your interrogation was therefore not exact, since it required two answers." — "Whence comes this assurance before me?" — "From a pure conscience and a sincere faith."

— "Are you then ignorant of what my power is?" — "And are you ignorant of who my fiancé is?" — "Who is he?" — "The Lord Jesus Christ." — "You were the wife of Valerian: that is what I know."

The virgin was not to expose the mysteries of heaven to profane ears; she therefore did not take up the words of Almachius, but returning to the insolent manner with which he had boasted of his power: "Prefect," she said to him, "you were speaking just now of your power; you do not even have an idea of it; but if you were to question me on this matter, I could show you the truth with evidence." — "Well! speak," resumed Almachius, "I would like to hear you." — "You hardly listen to anything but the things that are agreeable to you," said Cecilia; "listen, however: The power of man is like a wineskin filled with wind. Let a simple needle come to pierce the skin, suddenly it collapses, and all the consistency it had has disappeared." — "You began with insult," answered the prefect, "and you continue in the same tone." — "There is insult," replied the virgin, "when one alleges things that have no foundation. Demonstrate that I have said a falsehood, then I will admit to the insult: otherwise the reproach you make to me is slanderous."

Almachius changed the subject: "Do you not know," he said to Cecilia, "that our masters the invincible emperors have ordered that those who will not want to deny that they are Christians be punished, and that those who will consent to deny it be acquitted?" — Cecilia answered: "Your emperors are in error, just as much as your Excellency. The law upon which you rely proves only one thing, which is that you are cruel, and we are innocent. Indeed, if the name of Christian is a crime, it would be for us to deny it, and for you to force us by torments to confess it." — "But," said the Prefect, "it is in their clemency that the emperors have decreed this provision; they wanted to ensure you a means of saving your life." — The virgin answered: "Is there any conduct more impious and more disastrous to the innocent than yours? You use torture to make evildoers confess the nature of their crime, the place, the time, the accomplices; when it is a question of us, all our crime is in our name, and it is enough for us to deny this name to find grace before you. But we know all the greatness of this sacred name, and we cannot deny it. Better to die to be happy than to live to be miserable. You would like to hear a lie from our mouths; but by proclaiming the truth, we inflict upon you a more cruel torture than those you make us undergo." — "Let us finish with this," said Almachius; "choose one of these two paths: either sacrifice to the gods, or simply deny that you are a Christian, and you will depart in peace."

At this proposal, a smile of compassion appeared on Cecilia's lips: "What a humiliating situation for a magistrate!" she said; "he wants me to deny the title that testifies to my innocence, and to make myself guilty of a lie. He consents to spare me; but it is to show himself even more cruel. If you admit the accusation, what do these efforts to constrain me to deny what I am charged with mean? If your intention is to absolve me, why do you not at least order an inquiry?" — "But here are the accusers," resumed Almachius; "they testify that you are a Christian. Deny it only, and the whole accusation is brought to nothing; but if you persist in not wanting to deny it, you will recognize your folly when you have to undergo the sentence." Cecilia answered: "The accusation is my triumph, the punishment will be my victory. Do not tax me with folly; make yourself this reproach instead, for having been able to believe that you would make me deny Christ."

Pressed to sacrifice to the gods, Cecilia refused with indignation. Almachius resolved to put her to death. Nevertheless, he was reluctant to order the public execution of this young woman who joined to so many graces the gift of attracting all noble hearts to herself. Moreover, he feared the reproaches of the emperor upon his return; for such an odious spectacle given in the heart of Rome could excite the murmurs of the patricians.

He ordered that Cecilia be taken back to her house, so that she might receive death there without fanfare or tumult. Almachius's orders were that she should be locked in the bath chamber of her palace, which the Romans called the Caldarium. A violent and continuous fire would be lit in the hypocaust, and the virgin, left without air under the burning vault, would inhale death with the scorched steam, without the need to bring in an executioner to immolate her.

This cowardly expedient did not achieve its effect. Cecilia, having entered with joy into the place of her martyrdom, spent the rest of the day and the following night there, without the inflamed atmosphere she was breathing having even caused the slightest moisture to distill from her limbs. A heavenly dew, similar to that which refreshed the three children in the furnace of Babylon, deliciously tempered the fires of this ardent abode. In vain did the ministers of Almachius's cruelty stoke the fire with the wood they constantly threw onto the brazier: in vain did a devouring breath escape continuously through the heat vents and pour the boiling vapors of the basin into the narrow enclosure; Cecilia was invulnerable and waited calmly for it to please the divine Spouse to open another path for her to ascend to Him.

This prodigy, reported to Almachius, overturned the hope he had conceived of not having to go so far as to shed the blood of a Roman lady. He felt that it was no longer possible for him to stop on the fatal path he had embarked upon. An executioner received the order to go and cut off Cecilia's head in the very place where she was mocking death. The executioner appeared armed with the instrument of torture. The virgin saw him enter with gladness, as one who had come to bring her the nuptial crown. She offered herself to martyrdom with the eagerness one could expect from one who until then had triumphed over everything that frightens and everything that seduces human nature. The executioner brandished his sword with vigor, but his unsteady arm could not, after three blows, entirely sever Cecilia's head. He left the virgin, upon whom death seemed to fear exercising its empire, lying on the ground and bathed in her blood, and he withdrew in terror. A law forbade the executioner who, after three blows, had not finished his victim, from striking her further.

The doors of the bath chamber had remained open after the executioner's departure; the crowd of Christians who were waiting outside for the consummation of the sacrifice rushed in with respect. A sublime and lamentable spectacle offered itself to their gaze: Cecilia, struggling with death, and still smiling at those poor whom she loved, at those neophytes to whom her word had opened the path to true life. They hastened to collect on cloths the virginal blood escaping from her mortal wounds; all lavished upon her the marks of their veneration and love. From one moment to the next, they expected to see this soul, so pure, exhale, breaking the weak and final bonds that still held it. The crown was suspended above Cecilia's head; she had only to extend her hand to grasp it, and yet she delayed. The faithful were still unaware of the delay she had requested and obtained.

For three whole days, they surrounded her bloody couch, continuously suspended between hope and fear, but full of respect for the mysterious will of the Lord regarding His servant. Cecilia's voice did not cease to exhort them to remain firm in the faith. From time to time, the virgin had the poor brought near; she lavished upon them the most touching marks of her affection and saw to it that what might still remain to her was shared among them. The tax officials had not appeared; they knew that the victim had been missed by the executioner, and besides, this blood-stained house must have seemed as formidable to the pagans as it seemed august to the faithful who venerated it as the glorious arena where Cecilia had won the crown.

There was a moment when the flow of the people ebbed. The dying virgin was about to receive the visit of Urban, who, for some days, as we have said, had been sheltering his exile in Cecilia's house. Until this desired hour, prudence had not permitted approaching the martyr who was waiting for him with ardor to ascend to heaven. Cecilia wished to receive the blessings of the Father of the faithful, and to consign into his hands the only inheritance she left behind her. The Pontiff entered the bath chamber, and his tender gaze perceived his beloved daughter lying like the lamb of sacrifice on the altar flooded with her blood.

Cecilia turned toward him her gaze full of sweetness and consolation: "Father," she said to him, "I asked the Lord for this delay of three days, to place in the hands of Your Beatitude my last treasure; these are the poor whom I fed, and whom I am about to leave. I also bequeath to you this house that I inhabited, so that it may be consecrated by you as a church, and that it may become a temple to the Lord forever."

After these words, the virgin withdrew into herself, and thought only of the bliss of the Bride who is about to go to her Spouse. She thanked Christ that He had deigned to associate her with the glory of His athletes, and to unite on her head the roses of martyrdom with the lilies of virginity. The heavens were already opening to her dying eye, and a final faintness announced the approach of death. She was lying on her right side, her knees drawn together with modesty. At the supreme moment, her arms collapsed one upon the other; and as if she had wished to keep the secret of the last sigh she sent to the divine object of her unique love, she turned her head, furrowed by the sword, toward the ground, and her soul gently detached itself from her body.

Saint Cecilia is represented: 1° in the same attitude she had while dying, namely: lying down, in an attitude full of modesty, resting on her right side, her arms slumped in front of her body, her neck marked by the three incisions made by the executioner's sword, and her head, by a mysterious and touching inflection, turned toward the back of the coffin; — 2° placed before a table where there are various musical instruments: two angels accompany the Saint; — 3° seated, seen from the front, her right hand placed above the keys of an organ, and stopping as if in ecstasy while hearing a concert that the angels are performing in heaven; — 4° surrounded by Christians who contemplate her: two women are busy staunching the blood flowing from her wounds, and collecting it in a vase; — 5° lying dead and guarded by two angels, one of whom holds the palm of martyrdom.

[APPENDIX: CULT AND RELICS. — MONUMENTS.]

Such a great Martyr could only be buried by the most august hands. Urban, aided by the ministry of the deacons, presided over Cecilia's funeral. They did not touch the virgin's garments, richer still for the purple of martyrdom with which they were covered than for the gold with which they were woven; they respected even the attitude she kept at the moment she had expired. The body, reduced by suffering, was placed in a coffin formed of cypress planks, and the linens and veils in which the faithful had collected the virgin's blood were placed at her feet.

The following night, the precious deposit was carried on the Appian Way, to the cemetery of Callixtus, before the third milestone. Valerian, Tiburtius, and Maximus rested a short distance away; but the entrance to their tombs was on the left of the Appian Way. In order to honor the apostolate that Cecilia had exercised, Urban wished that she have her burial in the enclosure that Callixtus had prepared for the Pontiffs, and where he had deposited the body of Zephyrinus, his predecessor.

Shortly after the martyrdom of Saint Cecilia, Pope Anteros (235) had an authentic account (acts) of this glorious martyrdom made. These acts served for the definitive drafting which took place in the 5th century. Her name was inserted into the diptych of the canon of the Mass: November 22 was the day fixed for her feast, preceded by a preparatory vigil.

The palace of Saint Cecilia having been erected into a church, Pope Paschal, in pape Pascal Pope who transferred relics to the Vatican in the 9th century. 821, had the old basilica rebuilt, whose walls were threatening to fall into ruins. He greatly desired to deposit the virgin's relics there; but they had already been searched for in all the crypts of the Appian Way. It was believed that the Lombards, who besieged Rome in 755 and carried off the bodies of several Martyrs, had discovered that of Saint Cecilia.

But the Pope, attending Matins one Sunday in the church of Saint Peter, fell asleep, and had a dream in which he learned from Saint Cecilia herself that the Lombards had uselessly searched for her body and that they had not been able to find it. It was therefore discovered in the cemetery that bore the Saint's name. It was wrapped in a robe of gold fabric, and linens stained with blood were found at her feet. The body of Valerian was near that of Saint Cecilia. The Pope transferred them to the new church with those of Saint Tiburtius, Saint Maximus, and the holy popes Urban and Lucius, who rested in the cemetery of Praetextatus, adjoining that of our Saint and also situated on the Appian Way. This translation took place in 821.

Pope Paschal founded, in honor of these Saints, a monastery near the church of Saint Cecilia, so that the divine office could église de Sainte-Cécile Church built on the site of the saint's house. be celebrated there day and night. He adorned this church with much magnificence and gave it rich gifts. On one of the ornaments was represented an angel crowning Saint Valerian and Saint Tiburtius. This church is a title of a cardinal-priest. It was rebuilt by Cardinal Paolo Emilio Sfondrati, nephew of Pope Gregory XIV; in 1599, the tomb of Saint Cecilia was opened and the complete integrity of her body was confirmed; it still rests in the same place. The church of Saint Cecilia was rebuilt, in the last century, by the munificence of Benedict XIII, and an inscription, which comes from the old church, and which is engraved in characters from the end of the Middle Ages on an ancient cippus, bears these words: *Hæc est domus in qua orabat sancta Cæcilia*; this is the house where Saint Cecilia prayed. This inscription has been moved to the sacristy. Among the many Christian monuments in Rome, one of the most graceful is the tomb of Saint Cecilia, placed under the high altar of the church dedicated to her, and backed against the room in which her martyrdom took place. The tomb is adorned with alabaster, lapis lazuli, jasper, agates, and rich gilded bronze sculptures. A large number of lamps burn continually around this tomb. The tomb of the Saint, placed in an ancient chapel of the catacomb of Saint Callixtus, on the walls of which one can still distinguish old and venerable paintings, is illuminated and decorated, for the feast, with wood and flowers; all the galleries or corridors of this catacomb are also illuminated.

In 1282 was begun, and finished in 1512, in Albi, a church under the name of Saint Cecilia. It i s on Albi City in Gaul where Eugene spent his final days in exile. e of the most interesting productions of ogival architecture in France. Dark and terrible on the outside, with its bricks blackened by time, its tower which rises on four galleries four hundred feet above the waters of the Tarn, its walls one hundred and fifteen feet high, it offers on the inside a respect full of richness and grace; a vast nave, without pillars, which launches the ogive of its vaults to the height of ninety-two feet above the pavement; twenty-nine chapels that radiate around it; a very beautiful rood screen; a prodigious number of stained glass windows in the choir; everywhere painting that offers scenes from the Old and New Testament, from the life of the Saints, and from the history of the Church.

Saint Cecilia has become a type of predilection for many painters, Raphael, Domenichino, etc.; but there is an art that recognizes her as its special patron; she is the queen of harmony. There are relics of her at Louvencourt in Amiens, at Wailly, and at Mont-Saint-Quentin.

This biography is extracted from the *History of Saint Cecilia*, by the R. F. Dom Prosper Guéranger, Abbot of Solesmes, which we have assembled in an abridged form, sometimes reproduced textually.

LIVES OF THE SAINTS. — VOLUME XIII.