Saint Francis de Girolamo

Although he lived in the world as if not of the world, he aspired from that time on to tear himself away from its dissipation, its pestilential air, and to seek knowledge and perfection in solitude; Heaven condescended to his desire. A position as prefect having become vacant at the college fo r nobles of the So compagnie de Jésus Religious order to which Peter Canisius belonged. ciety of Jesus, he obtained it, and he was even permitted to keep his brother with him. The young men entrusted to his care were not long in noticing that it was a Saint who had been placed at their head: they saw it in his air, his bearing, his amiable manners, his conversation full of sweetness and piety, in the austerities and mortifications that he did not succeed in entirely hiding, and above all in his patience, of which we must give an example here: an irritated student, after having vomited a torrent of insults against him, went so far as to strike him in the face. Although taken by surprise, he did not show the slightest emotion, did not utter a complaint; but, falling to his knees, he humbly presented the other cheek to the one who had struck him. From then on, he was never called anything other than the Holy Priest. After five years of residence in this place, in the post of prefect, our Saint, then twenty-eight years old, following the will of God who was calling him into the Society of Jesus, triumphed, through the strength of his prayers, over the resistance of his father, who opposed this pious design. There had never been a novice more humble, more fervent, more mortified, more obedient: to test the gold of his virtues in the crucible of afflictions and crosses, his superiors subjected him to the harshest trials, even forbidding him, for his alleged sins, from saying Mass more than three times a week: this blow, the harshest for his heart, whose entire joy was to unite with his Savior, could not draw from him the slightest murmur. But Our Lord knew well how to compensate him for this sacrifice that he imposed upon himself through obedience: He visited him in person, and with His divine hand distributed to him the bread of angels.

Such harsh exercises so annihilated the old man in him, and the new man grew in such a way, that after a year he was able to launch himself like a giant into the apostolic career; his superiors sent him on a mission with the famous Father Agnello Bruno. For three years, these holy missionaries traveled through all the villages of Apulia and the land of Otranto, converting sinners and strengthening the just, so that it was customary to say of them: Father Bruno and Father Girolamo seem to be, not mere mortals, but angels sent expressly to save souls. Recalled to Naples in 1674 to complete his theology studies, this learned director of souls and eloquent preacher returned to the benches with the joy and docility of a child, protesting that he knew nothing and needed to learn, even though his theology notebooks were greatly sought after and esteemed; he consulted his fellow students and never missed an opportunity to pass himself off as ignorant. In order to maintain his zeal, his superiors allowed him to preach on Sundays and feast days in public squares, which he did with marvelous success. His studies finished, he was, by a particular disposition of divine Providence, appointed preacher at the church called the Gesù-Nuovo in 1675, where he began the work of that apostolic career which he continued for f orty years Gesù-Nuovo Jesuit church in Naples where the saint served and is buried. , without interruption, until the end of his earthly pilgrimage. During the first three years, it is true, he had no other duty than to give the invitation or exhortation to communion, as was practiced in that church on the third Sunday of each month. This work and a host of others, to which he gave himself entirely, could not quench his thirst for the salvation of souls. At the news that the mission to Japan was about to open again, he asked to go and shed his blood for Jesus Christ; but Jesus Christ answered him through the mouth of his superiors that he should consider Naples as "his Indies and his Japan," and be content with the thorns of martyrdom through an absolute renunciation of his inclinations, without gathering the rose. From then on, he looked upon the kingdom of Naples as the portion of the Lord's vineyard where he was to spend his sweat. Here is the occasion on which he began its cultivation:

To deliver the kingdom of Naples from the calamities that were devastating it, public prayers had been ordered for eight days, and each day a penitential procession was to go through the streets of the city to the cathedral to hear the word of God. Father Sambrosi, the greatest preacher of the time, was tasked one day with giving the sermon, and Father Francis with leading the procession and addressing words of penance to it from time to time. When the procession had entered the church, the tender pastor of Jesus Christ, seeing a part of the flock outside, excluded from the divine pasture because it was impossible for them to enter, was inspired by the Holy Spirit to satisfy their hunger: he climbed onto an eminence that overlooked the crowd, then, raising his voice, he thundered against vice with an energy so full of fire and terror, while at the same time the zeal and majesty of a prophet shone in his eyes, that a general cry of fear arose among his listeners, as if they saw hell opening to devour them: they fell face to the ground, they shed torrents of tears, they made the air resound with their groans, they cried out in pain toward the throne of mercy: thus it was difficult to say which, the discourse given inside the church or the one given outside, produced the most good. This happy incident determined the superiors, in 1678, to entrust the entire mission to Francis; it comprised three duties:

The first was to maintain the zeal of a confraternity whose members, attending all the processions, were like the right arm of the missionary; he established among them the custom of frequenting the Sacraments every Sunday and every feast day of the Blessed Virgin; the practice of mental prayer as well as vocal prayer; that also of public penance and humiliation; the exercise of the stations or Way of the Cross, where he usually shed torrents of tears himself; finally, the procession visiting seven churches, in memory of the seven journeys of our divine Redeemer. At each church, the Saint gave an exhortation, and the pious ceremony ended with a consecration that each person made of himself to Our Lord Jesus Christ and to his holy Mother, with vows of perpetual fidelity.

The second duty was to preach in public. Here is how our Saint behaved: every Sunday he first spent two hours in prayer, after which he struck himself for a long time and harshly with the discipline (a practice he observed every day upon rising); then he said Mass, then recited the canonical hours, bareheaded and on his knees, sometimes before the Blessed Sacrament; he spent the rest of the morning in the confessional or with his congregation. After dinner, he used the recreation time largely for spiritual conversations with his beloved ones, and only left it to discourse and meditate for an hour on the Passion of Our Lord. At the appointed hour, the Saint and his companions went out into the streets, walking in procession; then, heading in various directions, they began to preach to the people. Francis usually climbed onto a platform, near or opposite the entertainers and charlatans, who fled at his approach. After the speech, he fell to his knees at the foot of the cross and struck his shoulders with the discipline; then he returned to the confessional, where he remained until the moment the church doors were closed.

The third duty attached to his office was the invitation to communion: during the nine days preceding the third Sunday of each month, he traveled the streets of the city, ringing a bell and repeating in a loud voice some sentences taken from Scripture, to invite souls to feed on the bread that gives eternal life. One cannot imagine his hardships and privations when he traveled the surroundings of Naples in this way: often under a scorching sun or pouring rain, through marshes, over rocks, often at the peril of his life and limbs. He always traveled on foot, until the last time of his life, when he was obliged to go on horseback; but he was well rewarded for his fatigue when, the day having arrived, he could introduce into the banquet hall, to eat the Lamb that saves from eternal extermination, up to twenty thousand guests.

But, before entering into further details on the apostolic career of our Saint, it is good to say something of the quality that enabled him to perform so many wonders, that is to say, his rare eloquence; his voice was strong and sonorous, his style simple, abundant, and impressionable: sometimes he insinuated himself into the hearts of his audience with graceful and attractive manners; sometimes he overwhelmed minds under the weight of the strongest arguments. He was accustomed to speaking with such vehemence that blood sometimes came to his lips. His ordinary method was to first paint the enormity of sin and the terrors of divine judgment in such striking colors that he excited in sinners alarm and indignation against themselves; then, changing his tone with the skill of a master, he spoke of the sweetness and goodness of Jesus Christ, so as to make hope succeed despair and to bring conviction to the most hardened hearts. This was the moment he chose to address to them an appeal so tender and so compelling that they were seen falling to their knees before their crucified Savior, and soliciting through the precious channels of grace, that is to say, through His still-bleeding wounds, while shedding tears and sobbing, their pardon and reconciliation. It was his custom to add at the end some striking example of the punishments or graces of God, to leave a deeper impression on souls. Before speaking to men, he took care to converse with God at the foot of the crucifix; like another Moses, he emerged all on fire from this sacred colloquy. Heaven inspired him, in various circumstances, with words of supernatural effect: in 1707, an eruption of Vesuvius darkened the air, the trembling people gathered in the square, the Saint appeared there and cried out in a Vésuve Volcano near Naples, associated with a miraculous intervention by the saint. mournful tone: "Naples, in what time are you? Naples, in what time are you?" In 1688, during an earthquake, he also cried out to the frightened people: "Cease to sin! if you want the punishment to cease." Many sinners confessed their sins and led a religious life thereafter. His sermons were ordinarily followed by the repentance and conversion of five or six and even ten women of loose morals, who came, tearing their hair and shedding bitter tears, to solicit permission to go and expiate their faults in some convent.

One day, a wretched woman of this kind, in front of whose house the servant of God was preaching, did what she could to interrupt him, by preferring all sorts of discordant sounds: our Saint did not even pay attention and continued his discourse to the end. Some time later, passing in front of this house and seeing it closed: "Ah!" he said to one of those who were at his side, "what has become of Catherine?" — "She died suddenly yesterday," they replied. — "Dead!" added Francis, "let us enter and see her." Then entering, indeed, into the house, he climbed the stairs and found the corpse laid out, according to custom. Then, in the midst of the silence of the assembly: "Catherine!" he cried, "tell me where you are?" and twice he repeated the same words. But, when a third time he had spoken in a tone of authority, the eyes of the corpse opened, her lips moved in the sight of everyone, and a faint voice, which seemed to come from a great depth, replied: "In hell! in hell!!" Immediately, all those who were present, seized with terror, fled from the room, and the holy man, for his part, while withdrawing, repeated several times: "In hell! in hell! Almighty God, terrible God! in hell!" This circumstance and these words produced such an effect that many did not dare to return home without having confessed. Thus, he took advantage of all circumstances to soften hardened souls. Another time he painted in such strong terms the injury done to God by sin, that a child began to weep bitterly: the Saint had him come to him, embraced him with tenderness and cried out: "This innocent child sheds tears, while so many sinners remain insensitive." Then, enlightened by a supernatural light, he said to the child: "But your father, what is he doing?" Now, this father was a great sinner, and, as he was present, he was so touched by the tears of his son, the reproaches of the Saint, and above all by grace, that he ran to throw himself at the foot of the crucifix, crying for mercy for his sins. His repentance seemed to communicate itself to the crowd, and several sinners were converted.

A woman, who had for many years led a life of disorder, had finally converted after a sermon; Francis said to her in public: — "My poor girl, what have you gained by sin? what goods, what pleasure?" — "Nothing, nothing," she replied, all in tears; "the very clothes I wear are not mine! They are rented." — "God, do you hear her?" cried the Saint, "such is the lot of every sinner!" One day when he was preaching in front of a house of ill repute, one saw, in the very middle of his discourse, a carriage preparing to leave; they begged those who were in it to wait a few moments and not to interrupt the servant of God; but, these people, taking no notice of it, shouted to the coachman to push forward: "Divine Jesus," cried our Saint, holding the crucifix in his hand before the horses, "since these goddesses have no respect for you, these beasts without reason at least will pay you homage." At that very instant, these animals fell to their knees and would not move until the discourse was finished. It cannot be explained, without a miracle, how Saint Francis could suffice for labors that would have occupied the lives of several apostles: one saw him continually in hospitals, prisons, and galleys, and, in addition, he went into houses to visit the sick; he provided for the spiritual necessities of monasteries, asylums or houses of refuge, confraternities, and schools; he went to preach even at night in the dens of vice. Once, at the moment when he was in prayer in his room, he suddenly felt inspired to go and preach: he did so in the darkness, at the corner of a street, taking for his subject the immediate correspondence to divine grace, and returned without knowing for what purpose and with what fruit the Holy Spirit had made him speak. The next day, a young woman came to confess to him; she had been frightened when he had made the threat of divine vengeance and the danger of delaying her conversion resound in the night at the very moment and place where she was disposed to sin; her accomplice, who mocked her fears, had died suddenly, his soul having already flown to the tribunal of God, when the words of blasphemy were still on his lips. Nothing could stop such an ardent zeal. He was often mistreated by those he wanted to pull from hell, but he never retreated, not even before death, and God always protected him.

We regret that we cannot recount all the admirable conversions reported in the life of this holy missionary; but we cannot refrain from citing this one, which in some way concerns our country. There was in Paris a Protestant named François Cassier. This man had married a good Catholic, named Magdeleine Olivier, by whom he had two daughters. He would have liked to bring them to Protestantism, but their mother had always preserved them from this apostasy: thus, he overwhelmed them with mistreatment and held them in terrible hatred. After his wife's death, he resolved to take his children to Geneva to more easily have his way with them. He forced them to wear men's clothing and set out with them. One day, when they were tired from the journey, they begged their father to allow them to rest a little. The father consented, feeling weary himself: he lay down on the grass and fell asleep. It was in a lonely place; the unfortunate girls, led astray by the mistreatment they had endured for a long time, took advantage of his sleep, quietly took his pistols, killed him, and hid his corpse under some bushes. After this horrible crime, they left France, still keeping their men's clothing, and went to enlist in Milan, in the service of Charles II, King of Spain, to whom this duchy belonged. Their company, whose captain was Don Emmanuel de Arrieta, was sent to garrison in Messina, then to Naples, from where it departed for an expedition against the bandits who had retreated into the Abruzzi. The two sisters fought valiantly: but one having been killed in an encounter, the other took care to bury her corpse, for fear that by stripping it, its sex would be recognized, which would have revealed the fraud. The one who remained had taken the name Charles Pimentel. After the extermination of the bands of brigands, she returned to Naples, where the grace of God awaited her.

One day when Charles Pimentel was on guard with his company, in the square of the Castel Nuovo, the Saint caught sight of him, and after the sermon, he signaled for him to come and speak to him. "What could this man want with me," the soldier said to himself? "I do not know him and have nothing to do with him." However, the Saint having called him again, he went, and the latter said to him while taking him aside: "I would very much like for you to go to confession." "Confess!" replied the soldier, "and why? Have I committed some great crime that has earned the rope? In good conscience, I know of no sins of mine." And saying this, he abruptly turned his back. The Saint stopped him. "But how can you say that you have not committed any sin," he resumed? "Are you not a woman hiding under these men's clothes? Are you not Marie Cassier, born in Paris, from where you came to Italy? Do you not call yourself Charles Pimentel? It is of no use for you to deny it, f or the one wh Marie Cassier A French woman converted by the saint after having lived under the male identity of a soldier. o told me is this Lord Jesus whom you see there on the cross. Do you want me to tell you more? Is it not you who, in agreement with your sister, cruelly killed your father?" At these clear words, the soldier, completely stunned, turned pale and began to tremble from head to toe. He did not want to confess, however: "But, Father," he replied after a moment of silence, "I do not know who could have told you such a story." Then, reflecting that he had to prevent the Father from speaking, he promised him to come see him the next day to confess. The Saint waited two days, but in vain; he set out in search, and having met him, he said to him: "Is this how you keep the word you gave me?" "Father, believe me," replied the soldier, "I could not; besides, it is impossible for me to come see you now, for, by order of the viceroy, we are going to embark immediately; we are leaving for Tuscany." The Saint reflected for some time. "No, you will not leave," he replied; "swear to me then on this Christ that you will come to see me tomorrow morning. Fear nothing, for I have great hope that God wants to save you." Indeed, the departure order was revoked the same day, as he had predicted, and the soldier went immediately to the church of the Gesù Nuovo to fulfill his promise. When the Father caught sight of him, he shuddered with holy joy. "What!" he said to him, "you wanted to escape from the hands of God! But it is a father who loves you and who wanted you for himself." The Saint then heard his confession; he prepared him to receive absolution that very morning and had him approach the holy Table. The soldier spent this happy day at the church, in devotional exercises. In the evening, the Saint had him taken to the house of the Marchioness of Santo Stefano. This lady, who was very pious, welcomed him wonderfully. She had Marie Cassier resume the clothing of her sex, kept her for four months, and then established her in a small house where she lived on a pension of six ducats per month, which the Saint had obtained for her from the military fund, which was the retirement for disabled soldiers.

This extraordinary conversion took place in the year 1688. Marie Cassier did not die until 1727, and she confirmed the details under oath for the canonization process. She always remained in the most humble and repentant sentiments, weeping for her fault and doing penance every day. The Saint had placed one of his brothers, named Cataldo, with her. He was a man entirely occupied with his salvation, of good counsel, and of an exemplary life. Marie Cassier served him and cared for him in his illnesses, which were very frequent. One day, he was seized by a fever so burning that it was soon known that he could not resist it. Cataldo understood the danger he was in: he willingly made the sacrifice of his life to God; he regretted only one thing, that his beloved brother was not there to help him in this terrible passage. Saint Francis de Girolamo was, himself, ill at that moment, and his superiors had sent him five leagues from Naples, to the village of Recale, renowned for the healthiness of the air. Now, two days before Cataldo died, Marie Cassier, being in an adjoining room, heard him let out a loud groan. She ran to bring him help, but she stopped, terrified, at the entrance of the room, seeing Saint Francis de Girolamo who was tenderly embracing the sick man and saying to him: "My brother, go full of courage and with confidence where God, your good father, calls you, and where the Saints await you. Remember that He returns a hundredfold what one has given Him, and know that I will not be long in following you." He then took Marie Cassier aside. "My daughter," he said to her, "Cataldo is walking with great strides toward eternity: take care to assist him faithfully. He will die next Friday, at the fourth hour of the night. I must leave him now; but I hope to see him again before his death." It is believed that he did indeed see him again, for the sick man, a little before his death, gave so many signs of extraordinary joy that Marie Cassier was convinced that he had had the happiness of dying in the arms of the Saint, even though the latter had remained invisible to her. Moreover, the day he had come, he entered and left, although the doors of the house were closed, and two brothers who were with him in the village of Recale affirmed that he had not left them for a minute, that he was not even in a state to do so because of his great weakness.

Among the bold acts to which the Holy Spirit impelled him, we shall cite one of the most marvelous: during a procession, he stopped before the door of a house; moved by a sudden inspiration, he knocked loudly, crying: "Open, infernal woman, schoolmistress of hell, open!" A few moments later, a wicked, withered, hideous, and disfigured woman appeared; inside the house, one could see half a dozen young men and an equal number of young women whom this wretch had gathered for crime and who were on the verge of sacrificing their virtue. "This is indeed," cried the Saint, "the school of Satan, the antechamber of hell. How dare you," he said to these young people, "assail the virtue of these innocent souls, for whom God shed His blood? Get out of here!" He thus withdrew these unfortunate girls from the abyss and procured them a place in an asylum where they could save their souls. Several times he stopped young men at the door of these dens of vice, or pulled them out by entering himself, crucifix in hand. We would never finish if we had to recount the marvelous conversions where our Saint was the instrument of grace. A man had not frequented the Sacraments for twenty-five years when, warned in a dream on several occasions to have recourse to our Saint, he finally took courage and obeyed, to his great happiness and for the glory of Our Lady, to whose protection he owed this warning. Another, to whom the Saint, at the beginning of his confession, asked how long it had been since he had confessed, began to melt into tears and beg the Saint not to send him away because he was a great sinner; and the Saint, recommending that he not be discouraged, asked him if it had been ten, twenty, or fifty years: "Precisely, Father," he said, "it has been fifty years since I have been far from God." "Far from God!" replied Francis, "why have you abandoned such a tender Father, a Savior who shed His blood for you, down to the last drop? Ah! rather convert to Him, and go to meet the One who has run after you for so long." An assassin, who had been paid to kill several people, passing through a group of listeners before whom the Saint was preaching, stopped, saying to himself: "Could the one I am looking for be among this multitude?" He stood there to observe and could not help but hear the discourse of our holy preacher, and, upon hearing it, he could not defend himself from staying to listen, as if he had been held in that place by enchantment, when suddenly these words rang in his ears: "Thousands of penitents weep for their past faults, and you, miserable sinner, you meditate on new crimes! Wretch, whom neither the arm of God raised to launch His thunderbolts, nor hell opened beneath your feet to swallow you, could turn from crime!" His conscience was torn with remorse, his heart turned away from evil, he confessed his iniquities, and from a murderer, he became a Saint. Naples was not the only theater of our holy apostle's zeal; he traveled through all the provinces of the kingdom, with the exception of Calabria, and gave more than a hundred missions; everywhere he went, the clergy and the people came to meet him; he immediately began with an opening discourse and an invocation to the patron saint and the guardian angels of the place. At the end, before leaving, when he exhorted the faithful to perseverance, all, with one voice, promised to keep their commitments inviolably, and when he gave them his final blessing and bade them his ordinary farewell, which was to meet them in heaven, words cannot express, nor imagination represent, the emotions of the multitude. The demon, it is true, furious to see so many souls snatched from the nets of hell, neglected nothing to molest Francis and make him fail by stirring up clouds of enemies against him who decried his conduct; but his conduct, better known, refuted all calumnies, and his patience discouraged the outrages.

He sometimes had to struggle against obstacles of another nature: the Bishop of Chieti, capital of the Abruzzo, to whom he asked for permission to preach, said to him: "Indeed yes; but, Father Francis, I must warn you that the people of our city are a spiritual and cultured people, accustomed to weighing the strength of arguments at their just weight and capable of doing so; you will therefore feel from the outset that certain practices proper to speaking to the senses, such as the exposition of the Cross or images of the Blessed Virgin and other Saints, things admirable in themselves, would be quite out of place here and of a nature to do more harm than good." "One will certainly have regard for the desires of Your Grace," said the humble Saint, "at least until you judge it appropriate to derogate from them." Shortly after, the prelate felt an acute pain that he could not account for. Yielding to the remorse of his conscience, he sent word to the Saint that with regard to what had been the subject of their conversation, he deferred to his discretion, and he had more than one occasion to observe the fruits of these practices that he had initially condemned.

We will not undertake to treat each of the virtues of our Saint in particular. However, we cannot pass over in silence his fervent love for Jesus Christ: he honored and adored Him more particularly in the mysteries of His holy childhood, His holy passion, and His adorable Sacrament. When he meditated on these mysteries, he was always absorbed and penetrated with love, and when he approached the Sacrament of the altar, his face was inflamed as if he had been before a fire; he could not suffer irreverence toward the divine Eucharist; he reprimanded a lady of quality who had remained seated during the consecration. He also had a tender devotion for the Blessed Virgin: for twenty-two years, he had the habit of preaching a sermon in her honor and praise every week. It was to the youth especially that he took care to recommend this devotion as the surest preservative of innocence and the best remedy for sin, saying that it was difficult to be saved if one did not feel devotion toward the Mother of God. Mary was his counsel in doubt, his consolation in his sorrows, his strength in all his enterprises, his refuge in danger; he experienced inexpressible delights every time he recited the rosary of our tender Mother. He also had a very particular devotion for his Guardian Angel, for Saint Francis Xavier, for Saint Januarius, and especially for Saint Cyriacus; he placed all the missions he conducted under his patronage: it was a perpetual debate between the Martyr and the Saint as to who would procure the most honor for the other; Francis had recourse to Saint Cyriacus in all his enterprises; Saint Cyriacus favored, for his part, all the enterprises of Francis; he never visited a sick person without blessing them with the relics of the hol y Martyr, saint Cyr Saint and martyr to whom Francis de Girolamo had a particular devotion. and the relics of the holy Martyr always obtained health of body or soul, according to his desire. He was not content until he had obtained the necessary permissions to establish a feast in honor of this holy Patron, so that public honor might be rendered to him. The third Sunday of May was the day fixed for this.

The charity, humility, and obedience of our Saint were no less admirable: God did not refuse him the precious gifts with which He sometimes pleases to favor His servants. Here are some examples: he experienced frequent ecstasies, often in the presence of several witnesses; one day especially, when he was giving an exhortation to communion, his face shone, at times, with such a radiant glow that, like that of Moses, it dazzled the eyes of those who saw him. It was not by natural means that his voice, when it was hoarse and weak, made itself heard distinctly at immense distances; he had the gift of making himself present in several places at once and at the same time; as for the gift of prophecy, he exercised it sometimes seriously and openly, sometimes as if joking and in an enigmatic manner, as if one were not to believe that he had this favor. A young girl, being in doubt whether she should marry or enter the religious state, consulted the Saint: "You run greater dangers by remaining in the world," he told her, "and do not let yourself be frightened by the thought that you will have to lead a long and laborious life. How old are you?" "Seventeen years," she replied. "Just as many years more, and you will be at the end of your pilgrimage." Which the event showed to be true; for this young person, retired in a convent, died there in the odor of sanctity at the end of seventeen years.

A poor woman lost a one-year-old child, and not having the means to have him buried, she carried him to the church and placed him in Father Francis's confessional. Upon entering the church, the holy man, who had seen everything by a supernatural light, addressing the famous penitent Marie-Louise Cassier, said to her: "Look in my confessional, you will find an abandoned child there; take charge of him until I find a way to place him appropriately." She obeyed at once; but, lifting the blanket that wrapped him, she turned to the Saint and said to him: "Father, he is dead!" "No, no," he replied, "he is asleep"; and at the same time he made a sign of the cross on his forehead and applied holy water to his lips, and behold, the child opened his eyes and began to breathe. "Come," added the Saint, "call the mother, who is at the bottom of the church." The poor woman at first refused to come, and, at the sight of the child, she could not believe that it was hers; but when he stretched out his little arms and showed that he recognized her, she pressed him to her breast with raptures of joy; and, after having received an abundant alms from Saint Francis, she returned home. A young nun having presented herself before our Saint to make her confession: "Go," he said to her dryly, "I can neither will nor hear you." "How!" she cried with astonishment, "you fly in search of women of ill repute and you would reject a spouse of Jesus Christ?" "Do you come to confess," replied Francis, "without examination, without contrition, without a firm purpose to change your life, and without the slightest spark of devotion?" This answer made the nun return to herself, and, recognizing her disorders, she changed her life.

He gave honor to Saint Cyriacus for all the miracles that heaven granted him. There was, in a monastery, a nun afflicted with horrible convulsions; they finally sent for Father Francis: "I bring you good news," he said upon entering, "a doctor who cures all ills"; then he gave her the relic of Saint Cyriacus to kiss, saying: "Do you have confidence in this doctor? do you want to invoke him and henceforth have devotion for him?" And as she answered affirmatively: "You are already cured," he said, "get up and go this very instant to the choir, to give thanks to God." And immediately, to her great astonishment and to the great consolation of all those who were present, she did what he had commanded.

But it is time to recount the end of such a beautiful life: our Saint was warned of it by divine inspiration. At the death of his brother, he uttered these words: "Within a year from now, we shall be reunited." And when he was still in full health, he said while taking leave of the nuns of Saint Mary of Divine Love: "My dear daughters, it is for the last time that I speak to you today; do not forget me in your prayers. Farewell, until we see each other again in paradise." During his illness, he said, as the feast of Saint Cyr approached: "I will not be alive to see it." Finally, when the doctor who was treating him paid his last visit, he thanked him for his care and added: "We shall not see each other again from this side of the grave: for Monday will be the last day of my life." One cannot express the cruel sufferings that Our Lord sent him to complete his purification, so that his soul might enter glory more brightly, and yet not a murmur ever escaped him; he only repeated: "Blessed be God, the Father of Our Lord Jesus Christ, who consoles us in all our tribulations!" When someone approached to sympathize with his sufferings, he, who did not find the chalice full enough compared to that of his Savior, would clasp his hands on his chest, exclaiming: *Crescant in mille millia*: "May they increase infinitely!" When people spoke to him of the good he had done: "Nothing, nothing," he would reply, "the fault I have most to fear is my laziness." As he was exhorted to invoke Saint Cyr to obtain the restoration of his health and gain a few more years of life to dedicate to the service of God: "Ah! no," he said, "the Saint and I have come to an understanding on this point; the matter is now concluded." The favor he asked for was to see the completion of the statue he had undertaken in honor of his holy Patron; it was granted to him: "Now," he said, "I die content." On the day of the feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, after making a general confession, he received the Holy Viaticum, and, six days later, Extreme Unction. Throughout the night, he let his heart pour out in complete freedom, and these were the words he was heard repeating: "Let us bless the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit; let us praise and exalt Him forever! The Lord is great and infinitely worthy of praise, in the city of our God on the holy mountain!" Then, kissing the wounds of the Crucifix while weeping, he would exclaim: "Remember, divine Jesus, that this soul cost you for its ransom even to the last drop of your blood!" When the nurse encouraged him to pray with his heart rather than his lips, because of the difficulty he had in speaking: "Ah! my dear brother," he replied, "whatever we may think or say of a God so great, His greatness is beyond all thought and all expression!" Then, with his eyes fixed on the pious image of the Blessed Virgin, he spoke to her in these humble terms: "Ah! Mary, my dearest mother, you have always cherished me as a tender mother, although I was for you but a most unworthy child. Fulfill now the measure of your kindness toward me, by obtaining for me the love of your divine Son!" Then, as if he were already at the gate of paradise, he exhaled his ardent desires to enter it: "How great is the house of the Lord! Blessed are those who dwell in your house, O Lord; they will praise you forever and ever. Holy angels, why do you delay? Open the gates of justice, I will enter and I will praise the Lord!"

Despite the desire that our Saint had so often expressed to be left alone, it was impossible to stop the crowd that pressed to see him one last time, to kiss his hands and receive his last blessing. He blessed them all with a gentle sweetness, and, seeing their tears flowing: "Do not weep," he said, "I am going to heaven, where I will remember you and be better able to be of use to you." The demon made a final effort to snatch, at the decisive moment, the victory from the hands of the one who had so often struck him down. God permitted it to add to the shame of the evil spirit and to the glory of the Blessed. In the rigor of the struggle, one saw his whole person shake violently: uttering a cry, he called for the help of Our Lord, Our Lady, and all the Saints; he replied to those who asked him the cause of this horrible convulsion: "I am fighting, I am fighting! In the name of God, pray for me that I do not succumb!" Then, as if he were pushing back his enemy, he said: "No, never; withdraw, I have nothing to do with you!" His face, finally, regained its radiance, and he repeated with sweetness these words: "It is well, it is well!" and immediately he began to sing the Magnificat and the Te Deum, to thank God for his victory; finally, he went to receive the eternal crown on May 11, 1716, in the seventy-fourth year of his age and the forty-sixth of his religious life.

The nurse, wishing to keep some relics of such a holy man, dared, before clothing him in priestly vestments, to cut a piece of the skin that covered the soles of his feet, so often sanctified by running after lost sheep; but, despite his precautions, the pious theft was soon discovered; for the blood began to flow so abundantly from the wound that not only were the linens stained with it, but they filled a vial containing three or four ounces. Numerous miracles honoring his precious relics indicated the glory his soul enjoyed in heaven; he was beatified by Pius VII in 1806, and canonized by Gregory XVI in 1839, at the same time as Saint Alphonsus Liguori, Saint John Joseph of the Cross, Saint Pacificus of San Severino, and Saint Veronica Giuliani. This circumstance has led to these Saints being represented together in the same painting. In his capacity as a missionary, a Crucifix is placed in Saint Francis's hand; in the distance, Vesuvius is placed to recall that N aples was th Grégoire XVI Pope who established the liturgical feast of the blessed. e main theater of his apostolic labors. Saint Francis is one of the many patrons of Naples.

His body is preserved under a side altar dedicated to him, in the beautiful church of the Jesuit professed house in Naples, named the Gesù-Nuovo. Above the altar, one sees, in a niche, his life-sized statue.

We have drawn his life from the account given to us by the cerebral Wiseman Wiseman Cardinal and author from whom the saint's biography is drawn. .