“The souls of the just are in the hands of God, and the torment of death shall not touch them. . . And though in the sight of men they suffered torments, their hope is full of immortality. Afflicted in few things, in many they shall be well rewarded: because God hath tried them, and found them worthy of himself.” - Wisdom 3:1,4-5
“Come, spouse of Christ, receive the crown which the Lord hath prepared for thee for ever: for the love of Whom thou didst shed thy blood. Thou hast loved justice and hated iniquity: Therefore God, thy God, hath anointed thee with the oil of gladness above thy fellows. With thy comeliness and thy beauty, set out, proceed prosperously, and reign.” - from the Feast of a Virgin Martyr, The Roman Missal
Chapter 1
THE CATACOMBS
Who has not heard of the Catacombs of Rome – those wonderful, hidden passages and corridors, those subterranean chambers dug out in the bowels of the earth and forming, as it were, a belt of underground fortresses around and in the close vicinity of the Eternal City. After Saint Peter’s and a visit to the Holy Father, the Catacombs, with their hallowed memories, are the great site of Rome. Here venerable Pontiffs, saintly Bishops, spotless Virgins, fearless Martyrs, gathered together in secret to celebrate the Divine Mysteries. Here too, tender youths and venerable old men, proud patricians and humble plebeians, nay princes even and slaves, knelt at the same altar, adored the same God, and participated in the same Divine Food.
Here they met in the evening at the feet of the venerable Pontiff; a few short hours after, they were fighting with lions in the arena, and when the darkness of the night again overshadowed the earth, their mangled remains were borne back for the last benediction to the feet of Christ’s Vicar on earth. Then they were reverently enclosed in crypts hollowed out in the tufa granolare or soft stone, where, side by side , the living dwelt with the dead – these resting after their labors, those awaiting their summons to the battlefield.
The meaning of the word “Catacomb” is not evident at first sight. It would seem to mean a depression or hollow in the ground, and we find it applied for the first time to a neighborhood in the Appian Way, close by the tomb of Cecilia Metellus, under which lay the cemetery of Saint Sebastian. The name Catacomb, given to this cemetery, was then gradually applied to the others around Rome. The word thus came to mean a subterranean burial place dug out in the soft stone or tufa by the early Christians.
THE ORIGIN OF THE CATACOMBS HAS NOW BEEN THOROUGHLY INVESTIGATED
For many years it was commonly believed that they had been sand-pits from which, as the sand was extracted for building purposes, long passages and corridors were formed, which in the early ages of Christianity, the faithful used as places of refuge.
This opinion is no longer tenable. The great number of Catacombs are not dug out in the sandy soil, but hollowed out in the strata of soft stone common about Rome.
Moreover, sand-pits must of a necessity have been near the surface of the earth and they must have been so fashioned that the sand could be easily removed from them.
The Catacombs, on the other hand, are sunk deep in the earth – 30, 40, or even 50 feet below the surface – and are reached by a steep stairway. They consist of long, narrow passages and corridors opening out into crypts and chambers. These passages intersect each other at different angles, and the corridors so formed present a labyrinth of ways and by-ways, shooting off for long distances and again branching off into a new maze of streets and cross streets. At intervals, shafts go down from the first set of chambers deeper into the ground and open into new and lower galleries, and others again, from these into still lower depths, so that two, three, and even more tiers of passages and chambers lie, one under the other, forming a very intensive underground city. It is not, therefore, conceivable that these should have originally served as sand-pits, as it would have been well-nigh impossible to extract sand from them in the large quantities required by Roman builders. The truth is that an entrance to the Catacombs was sometimes made through one of the sand-pits so as to avoid detection and to cover the retreat of those who entered. It is also possible that the sand-pits proper might have in the very first days of persecution furnished hiding places for the persecuted Christians before they had time to prepare a refuge for themselves, as they did shortly afterwards.
The Catacombs, therefore, as we know them, were bored in the soft stone by the early Christians as places of burial for their dead, and for the living as places of refuge in time of persecution.
That they served admirably for these purposes is evident. Firstly, the entrance was carefully concealed. If this were discovered or its position made known by some traitor, the approach of an enemy was speedily discovered and frustrated by the faithful, who fled at the first alarm into the more hidden recesses, where pursuit was out of the question. For it needed not only a perfect knowledge of the corridors, but the greatest circumspection to avoid being lost in the bewildering network of those dark passages, so closely resembling each other. Moreover, the corridors were so narrow that an excavator could in a few minutes throw up a barrier of sand and block them effectually, thus rendering a chase absolutely impossible. As a final resource, some at least of the Catacombs were joined one with another by secret passages through which the fugitives could escape in an extreme necessity.
THE EXACT DATE OF THE FIRST CATACOMB IS NOT KNOWN
The pagans usually cremated their dead. This custom seems to have been abhorrent at all times to the Christians. Like the Jews, they preferred to bury their dead, according to the custom prevalent in Palestine, that is, in vaults cut out in the rock, such as we read of regarding the burial place of Lazarus. The Sepulchre which Joseph of Arimathea ceded for the burial of Our Lord was also hewn out of rock.
Since, however, the persecution started in the reign of Nero (A.D. 54-68), and the Christians could not safely perform the burial services in the presence of their heathen enemies above ground, it is clear that from a very early date indeed they must have begun to hollow out these subterranean cemeteries. We have proofs of the existence of the Catacombs certainly as early as the reign of Domitian, A.D. 96.
It is not easy to divine where the Christians who died in Rome before this date were buried. No traces of such burial places are to be found, but it is surmised that they were buried either in the Jewish cemetery, less abhorrent to them than pagan burial grounds, or that Roman converts who had private mausoleums allowed their new brethren to have a resting place in the immediate proximity of their own.
THE EXTENT OF THE CATACOMBS
The Catacombs are enormous in extent, and it is calculated that, if instead of being grouped around Rome they were stretched out in one direction, they should reach to a length of several hundred miles. Grave authorities tell us that six million Christians were buried in the Catacombs. The number is not excessive if we calculate that these cemeteries were in use upwards of 300 years and that in these 300 years 10 bloody persecutions were waged against the helpless Christians. Though the 60 Catacombs in the vicinity of Rome are the most famous, there are others scattered over different parts of Italy, France, Greece, Illyria, Africa and Asia Minor, all of which possess many notable archeological treasures.
WHY THE CATACOMBS WERE ABANDONED
The Catacombs were naturally abandoned when Constantine gave lasting peace to the Catholic Church. Hiding places were no longer required, and there was no further need for subterranean burial places. They were venerated however, and most justly so, as places of pilgrimage, for they were the hallowed resting places of the heroes and heroines whose names were in every mouth, whose memories were revered, whose combats and triumphs were the glory and consolation of the Church and whose help was invoked in every need.
Thus they continued until Rome fell prey to the Goths and Lombards. These barbarous invaders, believing that vast treasures were hidden in the underground vaults, invaded the sacred precincts, broke open the tombs of the martyrs and scattered their dust on the ground.
The next phase in the history of the Catacombs was marked by the transference of the relics of the more famous martyrs to the great Basilicas and other Sanctuaries especially erected for them by the Roman Patricians. The Popes, desirous of depositing these precious remains in places more worthy of them and anxious to put before the eyes of the people the examples of those heroes and heroines of the Faith, proceeded to transfer thousands of the bodies to above-ground churches, where they would be more accessible to the veneration of the faithful. (In the cemetery of Saint Callixtus, 174,000 martyrs and 45 saintly bishops were buried. Pope Pascal I alone is said to have translated to the Church of Saint Praxedes 2,000 bodies!)
The Catacombs, thus despoiled of their richest treasures, became gradually less and less frequented and at last were entirely abandoned. Dirt and debris so blocked the entrances that in a short time all knowledge of their whereabouts was lost to the world, and it was only in the year 1578 that they were casually re-discovered. The Roman Pontiffs now became thoroughly alive to the vast importance of safeguarding them and appointed trustworthy custodians to watch over the treasures still enclosed in them.
The present procedure is as follows: Expert workmen, directed by learned ecclesiastics, are appointed to make excavations. When a new discovery is made, work ceases until the competent authority arrives, and then a minute examination commences under the direction of specialists.
Everything on the exterior of the sarcophagus is first carefully noted, after which the sarcophagus is opened for the examination of what may be found inside.
Satisfied that they are in the presence of the relics of a holy Martyr, those present fall on their knees and recite the prescribed prayers. Then follows diligent investigation, and every sign or emblem discovered is described in writing for the better elucidation of the history of the martyr.
Chapter 2
THE FINDING OF THE BODY OF SAINT PHILOMENA
It was on May 24, 1802 that the excavators came on a loculus (tomb) that had never been violated. Everything pointed to the fact that the chamber was exactly as it had been when the precious remains were enclosed there long centuries before. The discovery was looked upon from the first as something remarkable, and the opening of the sarcophagus was marked for the very next day, May 25.
On arriving at the spot, the learned custodian noted that the vault was walled up with three terra cotta slabs on which were depicted in red the symbols of martyrdom. They bore the following inscription:
LUMENA – PAX TE – CUM FI
It would seem that the slabs had been misplaced, as happened so often in the necessary haste of burial. The first slab should have been placed in the third place and when this is done the description becomes at once clear:
PAX TE CUM FI LUMENA
(PEACE [BE] WITH YOU, PHILOMENA)
This loculus is considered an excellent specimen of its kind and is rendered exceedingly valuable by the inscription on it of the very name of the Martyr whose remains were therein enclosed, a fact of rare occurrence.
In addition to this inscription, there were various emblems painted on the slabs.
First, there was an anchor which, from its resemblance to the Cross, was looked on as an emblem of hope. It is also at times a sign of martyrdom, as anchors were fastened to the neck of some of the confessors when they were thrown into the sea. Some think that Saint Philomena was cast into the river Tiber.
Second, there were two arrows, one pointing upwards and the other downwards. These, too, might betoken the kind of death which the martyrs suffered, as some were shot to death with arrows.
Third, there was a lance, which might have had a similar significance.
Fourth, there was a palm – the emblem of the martyr’s triumph.
Fifthly, and lastly, there was a lily, an emblem of purity.
Upon the opening of the tomb, the relics of a Virgin Martyr were found, with a glass vase containing portion of her blood in a dried form.
The dried blood found in vials close to the martyrs’ resting places have been subjected at various times to chemical tests and proved to be blood. In the case of the blood of Saint Philomena we have a far higher guarantee of its genuineness than any given by such process. The wonders wrought daily in and by this precious relic, and witnessed by countless pilgrims, as well as by keen ecclesiastical experts, furnish us with a supernatural proof of the authenticity of the relic. (note – Small vessels of aromatic spices, it is true, were also placed near the sepulchres with the intention of purifying the heavy atmosphere of the Catacombs. The two facts are independent of each other and are in no wise contradictory.)
The bones, the ashes and the blood of the Saint were carefully placed in a wooden case, which was closed and sealed in three places. This was borne above ground, where it was again opened and minutely examined by experts, among whom were doctors, surgeons and theologians.
The skull was found to have been fractured. The bones were apparently those of a girl, and the doctors surmised that she was twelve or thirteen years of age.
SAINT PHILOMENA GOES TO NAPLES
Little indeed is known historically of our Saint previous to her glorious Martyrdom. Her real history commences when her blessed remains were found in May of 1802 after having rested in the obscurity of the Catacomb of Saint Priscilla for upwards of 1,700 years.
After the final examination of the relics, a document was made out and placed in the case containing the remains. This was once more closed and sealed and deposited in the chapel or treasury where the bodies of saints and martyrs were kept, awaiting the Holy Father’s orders for bestowal on some church. Three years later, namely, in 1805, the Bishop of Potenza arrived in Rome, accompanied by a humble priest from Mugnano del Cardinale, a village not far from Naples, in the diocese of Nola. During his stay in the Eternal City this good priest, Don Francisco di Lucia, did all in his power to achieve the body of some Virgin Martyr for his church. To this end, he obtained permission to visit the Treasury of Relics, where at first he was perfectly unmoved. As he approached, however, the spot where the relics of Saint Philomena were deposited, an indescribable emotion took possession of him, and he felt all at once a burning desire to obtain these precious remains.
Insurmountable difficulties arose. It was against the custom to bestow such treasures on a simple priest. His petition was absolutely and irrevocably refused. An intimate friend of his, seeing his distress, succeeded by personal influence in getting for him the body of another Saint, which he reluctantly accepted, in lieu of what he so earnestly craved for. During the negotiations for the relics, Don Francisco was consumed with fever, lost all appetite, and fell seriously ill. The Bishop of Potenza became seriously alarmed for his life.
One evening, while the good priest was brooding over his disappointment, a sudden inspiration came on him: He promised to take Saint Philomena as his special patron and to take her to Mugnano, if only he could get possession of her relics. He was instantaneously cured. Both he and the Bishop were convinced that the cure was a miracle of the Saint. Shortly after, the apparently insuperable difficulties were removed and Don Francisco became the happy possessor of the ashes, the bones, and the blood of Saint Philomena.
From this moment forward began an uninterrupted series of miracles and wonders, the like of which have been rarely or perhaps never seen in the history of the Church. The sick were healed, the dying restored to health, sinners were converted, and evil-minded men punished. Prodigies the most extraordinary, graces the most abundant, blessings the most copious were the daily fruits of the Little Saint’s intercession.
The Bishop and Don Francisco, deeply grateful for the latter’s wonderful cure, promised to take the holy relics in their own carriage and give them the place of honor. The day of departure arrived. The bustle and fuss of preparation drove the promise out of the heads of the travellers. One thing, however, they made perfectly sure of and that was that the relics were safe. They were placed under the seat occupied by the Bishop and securely fastened. Scarcely, however, had His Lordship taken his place in the carriage when he felt sharp blows on his legs. He was forced to get out, and gave orders to the coachman to fasten the box more securely. It was, however, perfectly clear to all present that he case was as secure as it could possibly be. Nothing could displace it. Very much surprised, His Lordship resumed his seat, but the blows became so violent that he was once more forced to relinquish his place and leave the carriage. This gave occasion to new discussions and further examination. All now saw for themselves that the case was so well fastened that not even the violent jolting of the carriage could move it, yet the carriage had not moved a single pace. For the third time the Bishop took his seat – but in vain. Again he was smitten sharply on the legs and so severely hurt that he beat a hasty retreat, declaring that on no condition would he travel with the box where it was: “Rather,” said he, “will I take it in my arms all the way.” It was removed and given the place of honor in the front of the carriage, whereupon all trouble ceased, and the journey was begun. Only now did our travellers recollect their promise, and at once recognized, in the unaccountable blows, the wish of the Saint that her rights should be respected. Full of reverence and awe, these holy men took off their hats and, with cheeks bedewed with tears, tenderly and repeatedly kissed the blessed relics.
The rest of the journey to Naples was happily made. Our travelers lodged in the house of a good friend, where the relics were encased in a statue of the Saint specially made for the purpose, and this in turn was placed in a casket of precious wood.
The lady of the house, who was suffering from an incurable disease of long standing, proceeded with the help of others to robe the statue in precious garments. While they were thus engaged, the face of the statue was seen to undergo repeated changes of expression, and the relics exhaled a most delightful perfume. Before leaving the family which had given her so warm a reception, Saint Philomena restored to perfect health the good lady of the house, to the great joy of her friends, who had entertained the gravest fears for her life.
FROM NAPLES TO MUGNANO
After a short delay in Naples, our travelers resumed their journey towards Mugnano, where the news of their approach caused the liveliest emotion and the good people gathered in crowds to welcome their celestial Patron.
Various prodigies occurred during the short journey, which was made on foot and during the night. Finding the darkness too intense to proceed, the bearers of the casket called on the blessed Martyr for help. Immediately a small break in the clouds allowed the light of the moon to fall on the road around the little procession, which was thus enabled to proceed with perfect safety.
Later on, as the procession was passing Cimitile, the relics became unaccountably heavy, causing the bearers great difficulty in carrying them. Cimitile in olden days had been the scene of countless martyrdoms and the saint wished, it would seem, to tarry a little near the glorious battlefield bathed by the blood of her fellow martyrs.
The whole neighborhood was at this time suffering from drought, and the cry arose from the multitudes that came flocking from all parts to welcome the Saint: “If she really wishes to show her power, let her get us the rain we so much need.” Almost immediately, torrents of rain poured down, to the delight of the peasant-folk, who saw in the fact a manifest answer to their prayer.
Still more striking was another prodigy. The group of travelers bearing the relics arrived in Mugnano as the dawn was breaking over the hills. The roads were now thronged with crowds gathered together from all the neighborhood. It was necessary to pause while the enormous throng was being mustered for the procession. At this moment, a mighty whirlwind arose and came sweeping over the hillside. So appalling was this tempest that the people were terror-stricken. The cry arose on all sides: “God and Saint Philomena save us!” One of the priests, addressing the frightened people, bade them fear nothing, for the storm was stirred up by the demons, who recognized in Saint Philomena the same dauntless Virgin who had so confounded them 17 centuries before and who was now coming again to put them to shame and snatch from them their victims. Still the wind shrieked and whistled in the most alarming way, approaching rapidly the spot where the relics were resting. Here it suddenly stopped, as if held at bay by an invisible power, and instead of sweeping past, as one would naturally have supposed, it mounted into the air and disappeared. Again and again it recommenced with relentless fury during the procession, but it was powerless to do the slightest harm to the people. All were amazed at its manifest impotence, for it failed to extinguish a single one of the lights that were borne by the side of the relics. For two whole days, this weird wind howled on the neighboring hills. Satan foresaw the graces that were to be so plentifully showered on this favored neighborhood and vented his rage in a vain display of baffled hate and fury.
A great change soon became visible in Mugnano. Blessings were granted in rich abundance; miracles of all kinds showed the wondrous power of the Saint; the faith of the people grew in intensity; and the Sanctuary soon became known far and wide by reason of the marvelous favors accorded to the pilgrims who flocked to the feet of the Little Saint.
Chapter 3
THE MARVELS OF MUGNANO
The night before the arrival of the relics at Mugnano, a poor man who had been compelled to remain in bed for several months, absolutely unable to work, hearing of the arrival of the remains of the Holy Martyr on the morrow, prayed fervently to the Saint during the night, begging that he might at least be able to see and kiss the precious relic. The Saint seemed deaf to his prayer, for the pains, far from lessening, became more intense. When, however, the bells announced the arrival of the sacred treasure, he dragged himself from bed in spite of his sufferings and made heroic efforts to go and meet the procession. On leaving the house, he was perfectly cured.
For nine days the crowds flocked unceasingly to the church to venerate the relics, the ninth day being marked by notable miracles.
A poor widow besought the Saint during Mass to cure her crippled boy who was unable to stand. At the elevation of the Sacred Host, the boy jumped up from where he was and ran to the urn of the Saint’s relics to thank her for his cure. At the conclusion of the Holy Sacrifice, the child walked about the town, to the delight of the admiring throngs, who rang bells and beat drums and finally, seizing the boy, bore him in procession through the streets.
The reports of this miracle brought still greater crowds to the afternoon devotions. A poor mother dipped her fingers in the oil of the Saint’s lamp and anointed the eyes of her little child who had lost his sight from small pox and whom the doctors declared incurable. The moment the mother anointed the lids, the child recovered its sight.
A freethinker was so profoundly moved at the sight of this new prodigy that he had the blessed light of faith restored to him. He declared himself a believer and gave large donations for the building of a church in honor of the Saint.
Some days later, a lady brought her crippled daughter to the Sanctuary and, cutting off the child’s curls, hung them near the urn of the Saint’s relics, making at the same time a generous offering to the Sanctuary. There was no apparent response at the moment, but on her return home the child, to the amazement and delight of all present, left the carriage and walked into the house. She had regained the perfect use of her limbs.
A blind man came and gave a valuable ring as an ex voto offering, confident that he would be cured. Nothing happened in the Sanctuary, but on reaching home, he recovered the full use of his eyes.
A blind girl, twenty years of age, whom the Neapolitan doctors declared beyond the reach of all human aid, came to Mugnano. Entering the church, she declared that she would not leave it until she was cured.
Her faith was put to a rigorous test, for all her prayers seemed in vain. She, on her part, only grew more persistent and refused to leave the church for dinner. In the evening, when the Sanctuary was being closed, she found herself obliged to seek a lodging for the night. Lo! As she was leaving the church, a faint glimmer of sight was given her. Next day she returned and remained the whole day in prayer. Again, on leaving at night, she saw much better, but still imperfectly. On the third day, about noon, she saw more clearly still. At evening time her sight was entirely restored so that she threaded a small needle with the finest thread.
Cures of body and mind now began to follow in quick succession, not only in the Sanctuary but at great distances from it.
A young mother was suffering intense pains when giving birth to her child. Unfortunately, she was all alone. A beautiful young girl suddenly appeared b her side and asked if she could do anything to help her. Her presence itself proved enough to allay all pain. When the young girl took her leave, the poor woman asked her name. “I am Philomena; they call me Philomena of Mugnano.” The appearance of the Saint was so natural that it did now awaken the smallest suspicion in the mind of the sufferer of who she really was. On telling a friend of the unexpected visit, she learned that a Saint of that name had come to Mugnano from Rome. When she was better, accompanied by her friend, she made a pilgrimage to the Sanctuary. Glancing at the image of the Saint, she at once exclaimed: “It is she! It is she! Yes, she was my celestial visitor!”
A distinguished lawyer of Naples, Don Allessandro Serio, who had a property near Mugnano suffered many years from a dangerous internal illness. He and his wife came to Mugnano to beg for his cure. They followed all the exercises of the novena which was being celebrated. The Saint, however, seemed deaf to their supplications, for on the 8th day of the novena, Don Allessandro was taken ill, and he had to be removed to his lodgings, where he speedily sank into unconsciousness, so that he was unable to make his confession. His wife, in the extremity of her grief, seized a picture of Saint Philomena and called on the saint for help. She only asked that the invalid might be able to confess, for she now despaired of a cure, which in all truth seemed impossible. She promised a marble altar to the Saint if this favor were granted. Scarcely had the prayer been made, when Don Allessandro regained his senses and began his confession, during which he was completely restored to health.
Mindful to the promise, the altar was ordered to be made. A new wonder was in store for the happy couple. One of the masons, when giving the last touches to the table of the altar, struck it so roughly that, to the consternation of all, it was broken in two pieces, leaving between the parts of a large fissure fully the width of a finger. The unfortunate workman tried to remedy the break with cement, but the Little Saint herself came to the rescue, and the marble became most perfectly joined, leaving only a line or vein as a mark of the prodigy. This wonder was testified to by many witnesses, and an inscription commemorating it was placed in the church.
Louis de Mariconéoit, a Frenchman, married an English girl. The marriage proved to be an ideally happy one. But the joy was short-lived, for after six months, the young bride became seriously ill. She earnestly longed for the happiness of being a mother, but the doctors declared that her state of health made such a thing absolutely impossible. The young couple came to the neighborhood of Naples in the hope of a cure. Unfortunately, any little hope they had entertained was soon rudely dispelled. The patient’s condition grew rapidly worse. Hearing of the marvellous cures wrought at Mugnano, she shut herself up one day in her own room and, falling on her knees, poured forth this short and fervent prayer to Saint Philomena: “Since my condition is desperate, from the human point of view, and since I have no earthly hope left, I place all my confidence in you and trust that you will cure me, for you are powerful in Heaven and are good to all who seek your help. Despite my sufferings, I will go tomorrow to visit you in Mugnano, and I will ask you not only to restore me to health but to grant me the blessing of becoming a mother, and I will give my child the name of Philomena. Moreover, I promise to direct all the yearnings of its young heart towards God.”
The following day, she visited the Saint’s shrine and made her prayer with great confidence. A year later, she returned in perfect health, the happy mother of a beautiful child. Countless mothers like her have to thank Saint Philomena for similar favors.
His Lordship, the Bishop of Lucena, was much in need of a professor of sacred eloquence for his diocesan seminary. The priest on whom his choice fell was Canon Vincent Redago. But the appointment was manifestly impossible, for the Canon was far advanced with consumption and already had frequent hemorrhages. His state was so grave that he was preparing himself for death, which he recognized could not be far distant. What was the poor man’s surprise when the Bishop announced his nomination! “What, my Lord!” he exclaimed, “have you the power to cure me?” “No,” replied the Bishop, ” I have not, but there is someone else who has. See, I bring a picture of Saint Philomena. Recommend yourself to her and you will get the health necessary to perform the duties I impose on you.” The Canon took the picture and placed it lovingly on his breast. He was instantly cured and perfectly able to undertake the task placed on him by the Bishop.
A young sculptor lost the use of speech and hearing for close to 20 years. Aware of the prodigies wrought by the dear Thaumaturga [miracle-worker], he made a novena to her during Holy Week. It was in the year 1837. On Holy Thursday night, he seemed to see Saint Philomena surrounded by a throng of heavenly spirits and smiling at him. Delirious with joy, he uttered a great cry – he was cured. Shortly afterwards he went to Mugnano to pour out his grateful thanks at the Shrine of his heavenly benefactress.
A good Irish lady was sorely tried by God. To her great grief, four children, one after the other, were born dead. When the fifth was expected, she was filled with consternation and begged her sister, a nun, to pray for her. Her sister replied by recommending a novena to Saint Philomena, in which she herself promised to join. Shortly afterwards, a beautiful child, full of life and health, was born. In accordance with her promise she called the child Philomena.
A happy home is the reflection of Heaven, and the love which unites the members of a Christian household is a foretaste of the never-ending bliss of the Father’s home above. The Baron and Baroness of Lepore were blessed by God with supreme happiness. The union and love which bound these two hearts together was indeed enviable. A great trial, however, was in store for the happy couple. The health of the Baroness began to fail, and soon a fatal illness manifested itself. Medical skill proved unavailing. Remedy after remedy failed to check the course of the disease, and soon death became a question of moments. The feast of the Translation of Saint Philomena’s relics was being celebrated for the first time in Terlizzi, near the castle where the Baroness lay dying. As life was slowly ebbing away, a friend hastened there with an image of the wonder-working Saint. The Baron eagerly seized it, showed it to the dying lady and touched her with it. She was cured so perfectly that both husband and wife were enabled to start a few days later for Mugnano to thank the dear Little Saint.
The devotion spread rapidly all over Italy, passing from city to city, from town to town, penetrating even to remote villages. Children received her name in Baptism; the poorest peasants kept lamps burning before her picture; chapels were built, statues erected in her honor; and in whatever town, village or church she was honored, wonderful prodigies and cures were wrought, and the moral condition of the inhabitants speedily underwent a radical transformation. In one church alone, within a few months, 1,200 silver ex votos were offered at her altar, besides many others of gold, jewels and precious stones – an eloquent testimony to the graces bestowed. In another, the cures, conversions and prodigies were so numerous that it was commonly said that nothing more wonderful happened in Mugnano itself.
Chapter 4
THE GREAT MIRACLE OF MUGNANO
One of the most illustrious heroines which the Church has given to the world in modern times is without doubt the sweet French girl, Pauline Marie Jaricot.
Many were the obstacles which this noble child had to confront while following the high but arduous career marked out for her by God. She was the favorite daughter of wealthy parents, from whom she inherited a vast fortune. Her beauty was striking and singled her out in the most fashionable gatherings as an object of admiration. Added to this, she was clever, bright and gay, gifted with a most attractive personality and possessing a heart overflowing with gentleness and affection.
Everything in the girl drew one towards her. Society was at her feet. Notwithstanding the allurements of pleasure and the soft flattery of many friends, Pauline always felt a call to higher things. God beckoned her one way, the world another. This first combat was long and fierce, but at last grace triumphed, and the victory was for God.
The next struggle that our heroine was destined to encounter was of a far different nature. She lost her beloved mother at an early age and, at the same time, fell herself prey to a violent disorder which attacked both body and mind, leaving her a veritable caricature of her former self. This trial, like the former, was long and intensely painful.
After this came a breathing space, which in turn was followed by a still more grievous malady, which kept her for long years at the very gates of death.
Wonderful are the ways of God, who ever purifies in the crucible of suffering the souls which He has chosen for great designs. It was this sorely tried child who was to give the Church three of its most important modern associations, each of which is gathering into the fold of Peter millions of abandoned souls.
Her first work was the foundation of the Living Rosary, the fruits of which are incalculable. The Society for the Propagation of the Faith came next. This society infused, in an incredibly short time, new life and vigor into the foreign missions and extended still further their already vast radius. By a simple system – the inspiration of Pauline herself – abundant funds flowed in from all parts, enabling the missionaries to achieve results far in excess of their wildest dreams.
Finally, if not the sole Foundress, she at least took a leading part in the establishment of The Holy Childhood, an association which is annually rescuing countless babies from the horror and degradation of paganism.
Pauline’s life story is well worth perusal, not only because it is teeming with interest, but much more because it sets before us an example which might well serve as a model and stimulus to other girls who, like her, could do great things for the world had they only the necessary confidence in God and themselves. Unfortunately, it does not come within the scope of this work to give a more lengthy account of Miss Jaricot. We refer to her merely because of her connection with Saint Philomena, by whom, as we shall see, she was miraculously restored to health and whose devotion she was instrumental in spreading all over France, and indeed, throughout the world.
We entitle the cure of Miss Jaricot “the great miracle of Mugnano,” firstly, because the Holy Father Gregory XVI, who was a witness of it, declared it to be a miracle of the first class; secondly, because it was the immediate reason why the Office and Feast of the Saint were granted to the universal Church; and lastly, because more than any other of the wonders worked at Mugnano, it served to make the name of Saint Philomena known far and wide.
We shall allow the young heroine to recount in her own words the history of her illness and the miraculous nature of her cure.
PAULINE’S ILLNESS
“It would be well-nigh impossible to describe the sufferings I endured for the past ten years. I do not pretend to give a scientific explanation of all I went through. I merely state what I heard the doctors say.
“Up to March, 1835, I was as a rule able to bear my pains in such a way that those around me had no idea of what I was going through. After the Revolution [of 1831], however, the disease showed unmistakable signs of aggravation. As my malady chiefly affected the heart, in proportion as it increased, the palpitations became more violent, so that they could be heard at a distance. On these occasions, my sides heaved with the agony I endured. A slight movement or change of position was sufficient to send the blood rushing violently back to my heart, thus causing imminent risk of suffocation. My breathing seemed to cease and the beatings of my pulse became imperceptible, so that the most drastic remedies had to be applied to restore some degree of heat to my frozen limbs. The abnormal dilation of my heart compressed the lungs, and breathing became a positive torture. As a consequence, I was compelled to lie perfectly still, lest the over-charged blood vessels should burst.
“In the part of my chest where the palpitations were most violent, a cavity was gradually formed, into which the food that I attempted to swallow lodged, causing still further danger of suffocation. The doctors now made two openings in my side, in a vain effort to check the progress of the disease and with a view to lessen the danger of suffocation. I was in consequence reduced to such a state of pain and exhaustion as made it evident that death could not be far off.
“During these awful days of torture, I had some short intervals of relief. The most appreciable of these was at the end of a novena made to Saint Philomena. The body of this Virgin Martyr had been recently discovered in the Roman Catacombs, and the marvels wrought by means of her precious relics were so extraordinary that the name of Saint Philomena was on every tongue. At the mention of this dear name, I experienced intense joy and longed to kneel at the shrine of this illustrious Virgin. But alas! Such a thing seemed impossible, for her sanctuary was far away in Naples, and I was unable to bear the least fatigue. Yet I felt inspired to go to the Sanctuary of the Sacred Heart at Paray-le-Monial, not indeed to ask for a cure, but to settle the affairs of my soul. Utterly worn out with pain, I said to myself: ‘I survived the fearful shock and excitement of the bombardment, and though weeks and months have passed, I am still alive. Surely there is some hidden design of God’s Providence in all this.’ I knew that the Association of the Living Rosary was praying for me; so, placing my trust in God and these good prayers, I resolved on a step which, had it been known, would certainly have been deemed pure and simple madness.
“In fact I had some scruples about the matter myself as I had no wish to do anything of which my conscience did not fully approve.
“I therefore elicited from the doctor the information that my state was so desperate that nothing I might do mattered much one way or another. This declaration set my scruples at rest.
“When I mooted the project I had at heart, I met at once with opposition. Though he was not aware of it, I heard the doctor say in a whisper: ‘Let her alone, let her go, she will not go far.’ ”
THE DIFFICULT JOURNEY
The preparations for the projected journey had been made in secret, so Pauline started immediately in a carriage for Paray-de-Monial, accompanied by her chaplain, a young lady friend and a confidential servant. The few who knew of her departure said: “She will not reach the first resting place alive.” Even those who accompanied her feared that every jolt of the carriage would cause her death. However, no such thing happened.
She arrived safely at her journey’s end and settled the affairs she had so much at heart. Then she said to herself: “This first journey did not kill me, so let me go to Rome and get the Holy Father’s blessing.” This was the ambition of her life.
If we think of what a journey to Rome meant in those days of coach-traveling over the Alps, through wild and abandoned stretches of territory infested with brigands, we shall be able to form some idea of the heroic faith and magnificent courage of this young girl. The journey was at all times wearisome and full of danger, but for one in Pauline’s state of exhaustion and with so small an escort, it was perilous in the extreme. Death seemed to dog the steps of the travelers The pains endured by the poor invalid were excruciating. Only when her sufferings were more intense could she be induced to make a short halt, and even then, after the briefest rest, she would insist with indomitable courage on pursuing the journey. When the party reached Chambéry, Pauline herself lost hope and resigned herself to die far from home and far from the Vicar of Christ. Her weakness was extreme, and she completely lost the use of her senses, remaining unconscious for two whole days. The pupils in the convent of the town made a novena to Saint Philomena for her recovery, and at its conclusion, she was much better and the journey was resumed. The snow was so deep on the road over the Alps that, notwithstanding their powerful horses and the valuable aid of sturdy mountaineers, their progress was slow and difficult.
As they reached the summit of Mount Cenis, a glorious view burst on their delighted gaze, and they halted for some time to contemplate the magnificent panorama that stretched before them.
As they gazed on this wondrous scene, a beautiful child suddenly appeared – no one knew whence he came – and approaching the carriage where Pauline lay, smiled on her sweetly and presented her with a beautiful white rose, which exhaled a delightful perfume. The guides had never before seen the child, who disappeared as quickly as he had come, nor could they form any idea of who he might be. The rose, they declared, could not have bloomed in the mountains. No such flowers were found in these regions of snow. The little incident was a consolation for the travelers after all they had undergone. Pauline’s companions saw in it a symbol of the beautiful present she was about to make the Holy Father – nothing less than the gift of her first great work, the Living Rosary, of which the white and fragrant rose was so fit an emblem.
“On our arrival in the Italian plains,” she goes on to write, “we were forced to travel by night, as the heat of the day was excessive. I had no fear of brigands or of evil spirits since we were under the protection of Our Lady and Saint Philomena. We made sure to have their medals hung on the carriage, and we likewise gave one to the postilions. It was eleven o’clock at night when we reached the foot of the mountains of Loreto, and though warned that the roads were not safe, we pushed on in the hope of soon reaching the House of the Holy Family (now the Basilica of Loreto), which we did as the dawn was breaking over the hills.”
Here again the invalid had a serious relapse, and once more all hope of saving her life. Nevertheless, she rallied and after a few days’ rest started anew on the road to the Eternal City. During this last stage of her journey, the attacks were frequent, and she arrived in Rome in an almost unconscious state.
The nuns of the Sacred Heart at the Trinitá dei Monti received her with the greatest affection. Her weakness was extreme, and it was simply unthinkable that she should leave the convent. Thus, after a long and perilous journey, in which she had braved so many dangers and even death itself, she had to halt at the very threshold of the Vatican. She could go no further.
The Blessed Mother and Saint Philomena were with her, and she was not to lose her reward. The Holy Father soon heard of her arrival in Rome and, aware of the state of exhaustion in which she lay, resolved with truly paternal affection to go himself and visit his “dear daughter” whom he so tenderly loved and who deserved so well of Holy Church.
INTERVIEW WITH THE HOLY FATHER
It was surely an extraordinary honor, but a still more extraordinary consolation, for this most humble girl to receive the visit of the Vicar of Christ, who came expressly, not merely to visit and console, but to thank and bless her.
The Holy Father opened his great heart and poured forth his thanks in the most affectionate terms. He told his “dear child” how pleased he was with all she had done; he praised her great courage and ardent faith in coming to Rome, and blessed her most abundantly. It was like a visit of Our Blessed Lord, for in His Vicar she saw and reverenced the Master Himself. Seeing how exhausted she was, he asked her to pray for him when she got to Heaven.
“Yes, Holy Father,” she replied, “I promise to do so, but if on my return from Mugnano, I come back well and go on foot to the Vatican, will your Holiness deign to proceed without delay with the final inquiry into the cause of Saint Philomena?”
“Yes, yes, my daughter,” replied the Pope, “for that indeed would be a miracle of the first class.”
Turning to the Superioress, the Holy Father said in Italian: “How ill our daughter is! She seems to me as if she had come forth from the grave. We shall never see her again. She will never return.” Pauline understood what he said but only smiled confidently.
When leaving, the Pope blessed her anew and said to Cardinal Lambruscini, who accompanied him: “I recommend my dear daughter to you. Grant her all the indulgences and privileges it is possible to bestow.”
It was now August, and the heat was terrific. The little party started for Mugnano, but had to travel by night and rest by day. They arrived at the Sanctuary on the eve of Saint Philomena’s feast.
MUGNANO AT LAST
The Neapolitans and the crowds from all the surrounding districts who flocked to the Sanctuary for the feast went wild with excitement when they heard who Pauline was and why and whence she had come. Their sympathy for her on the one hand, their jealousy for the reputation of their dear Patroness on the other, awakened the highest enthusiasm. Here was this French lady, so loved by the Holy Father, who had done so much for religion, come hundreds and hundreds of miles, over the snowcapped Alps, through mountain fastnesses, braving perils and death itself to invoke Saint Philomena. She must, she must be cured!
“Dear Saint Philomena,” they cried, “you must cure this dear lady who has come such a distance to ask your aid. She has done enough for God and for the Madonna for you to cure her.” And then, knocking at the urn of the Saint, as it were in threatening tones, they called out, “Do you hear us, Philomena! If you do not grant our prayer at once, we will invoke you no more; it will be all over between us. So much the worse for you, great Saint!”
The uproar became so terrific that Pauline could scarcely endure it.
THE MIRACLE
The next day, the feast itself, when Pauline received Holy Communion near the urn of the saint, she experienced such frightful pains all over her body, and her heart beat so violently that she fainted away. At the sight of what they thought was death, the crowds gave way to such cries and vociferations that it was thought safer to carry the chair on which Pauline was lying out of the church. However, she regained consciousness enough to make a sign to be left near the urn, on which she fixed her eyes with an expression of the deepest affection. Suddenly, an abundant flood of hot tears burst from her eyes; the color came back to her cheeks; a warm, healthy glow spread through her benumbed limbs. Her soul was inundated with such heavenly joy that she believed that she was about to enter Heaven. But it was not death, it was life; Philomena, the beloved, had cured her, and she was preserved for long years of toil and labor, which were to end in a glorious though bloodless martyrdom.
Although she felt that she was cured, Pauline dared not for some moments reveal the fact, dreading the outburst of enthusiasm that it was certain to provoke. However, the Superior of the Sanctuary, understanding what had happened, ordered all the bells to peal and announce the miracle.
The crowds, on hearing the news, went frantic with joy and were absolutely beside themselves with delight. The church and the streets rang with their shouts. Vivas, vivas resounded on all sides. It would be impossible to describe adequately this magnificent and soul-stirring demonstration of faith. “Viva Saint Philomena! Viva our dear Saint! Viva the great Virgin and Martyr! Viva the good French Lady!” In their wild enthusiasm they rushed towards Pauline and wanted to carry her in triumph on their shoulders. This, however, she absolutely refused to allow.
Idolized by the people, Pauline tarried in Mugnano for some time, her soul overflowing with joy. She passed long hours in sweet colloquy at the feet of her heavenly benefactress, and great were the graces she received, more even for soul than body. At last, when the day of departure arrived and she had to tear herself away from the Sanctuary, she took with her a great relic of Saint Philomena, which she placed in a life-sized statue of the Saint. This was clad with royal robes, given the seat of honor in the carriage and was hailed by all as the “Princess of Paradise.”
At the various stages of the journey, the postilions who had brought Pauline to Mugnano – more like a corpse than a living person – cried out: “A miracle, a miracle! Viva Saint Philomena!” At this cry, crowds used to gather, bringing wreaths and garlands which they hung on the carriage, invoking at the same time the name of the Saint with the most intense piety and love.
Naples was profoundly moved on the arrival of the miraculée. A thrill ran through the people. The Bishop received Pauline with great honor and, in the presence of the Apostolic Nuncio and the King of Sicily, presented the blood of Saint Januarius for her to kiss and venerate.
Blessed and invoked on all sides, the “Princess of Paradise” and her escort soon arrived in Rome, where, the better to enjoy the Holy Father’s surprise, Pauline had not announced her cure.
ROME AGAIN
When in the full enjoyment of health and strength she presented herself in the Vatican, all those who heard of her were thunderstruck. “Is it really my daughter?” said the Holy Father. “Has she come back from the grave, or has God manifested in her favor the power of the Virgin Martyr?” ” It is indeed I, most Holy Father,” she replied, “whom Your Holiness saw no recently at the very door of death and on whom Saint Philomena has looked with pity. Since she has given me back my life, deign, Holy Father, to give me permission to build a chapel in honor of my benefactress.”
“Most certainly,” replied the Pope, in accents full of joy and affection.
Then he insisted on hearing from her own lips the details of the cure. In his delight and wonder, he ordered her to walk up and down in his presence. “Again, again, quicker, quicker!” he exclaimed, laughing. “I want to be sure that what I see is not an apparition from the other world but really and truly my dear daughter from Fourvière.” And as his dear daughter walked backwards and forwards, she naturally, without meaning it, turned her back on the Pope. The Master of Ceremonies hastily reminded her that she must not turn her back on the Holy Father, whereupon the Pope said with a smile: “Nonsense! Do not trouble about that. God Himself has made far greater exceptions in her favor.”
The Sovereign Pontiff now ordered Pauline to remain in Rome for a whole year, that the miracle might be thoroughly investigated, during which time he conferred on her many and great privileges and gave orders for an immediate inquiry to be made into the cause of Saint Philomena.
At the close of the year, with the blessings of Christ’s Vicar, Pauline returned to Fourvière in France.
Chapter 5
A VISIT TO MUGNANO
In 1909 I had the happiness of visiting the Sanctuary of Saint Philomena, bearing a letter of introduction to the custodians from the Papal Nuncio in Portugal, Monsignor (afterwards Cardinal) Tonti.
The good nuns, to whose care the Sanctuary of Saint Philomena is committed, received me with such marked kindness and were so anxious that I should know everything about their great Saint that I was induced to prolong my stay for nine full days, listening with pleasure to the many beautiful incidents which the good guardians were pleased to recount. I spent a great part of each day in the Church of the Saint, and the good religious gave me every facility for venerating the precious relics as often and for as long as I pleased. Sometimes I accompanied the pilgrims who had come from afar and, with them, examined and kissed the reliquary containing the blood of the Martyr. Sometimes, when the chaplain was not present, it was my privilege to offer the relic for the veneration of the visitors, and frequently, when the church was closed, I was allowed to extract it from its repository for my private devotion.
THE BLOOD OF THE SAINT
The blood is not in a liquid state but quite dry and in appearance resembles ashes. It is preserved in a small crystal vase which allows the visitor to see it perfectly as though it lay on the palm of one’s hand. I had the happiness of examining this priceless treasure as many as thirty or forty times. Each time, without fail, I saw the blood change most marvellously, and the transformation was so clear and distinct as not to allow room for the smallest doubt or misconception.
Precious stones, rubies and emeralds, pieces of gold and particles of silver appeared mingled with the blood. One might shake the reliquary, and again the precious stones appeared, not always in the same way, but still clearly and distinctly. At times, too, small black particles appear, which are supposed to presage some cross or affliction or foretell impending evils. These black particles were very noticeable when the great Pontiff, Pius IX, venerated the blood of the Saint and were supposed to be prophetic of the sorrows in store for the Holy Father.
At times the blood takes the form of black earth, and this appears to denote unworthiness of those who are venerating the relic. One very notable case was that of a priest whose life was far from what the sacred ministry demanded. When he knelt to kiss the reliquary, the blood became very dark. On his departure it regained its natural appearance. Some days later, he fell dead in the midst of a feast.
These extraordinary transformations are witnessed daily by the crowds who flock to the Sanctuary and have been verified and declared authentic by the highest ecclesiastical authorities.
THE MIRACULOUS IMAGE
On the left-hand side of the church and in front of the chapel where the blood of the Martyr is preserved lies the wax figure containing the bones of the Martyr. This rests in a magnificent urn, the front of which consists of a crystal plate, enabling the visitor to see the image distinctly.
The figure is clothed in rich robes, and on one of the fingers of the right hand is a massive gold ring, set with a large topaz, which is one of the many gifts sent by Saint Pius X to the Saint. The image, like the blood, undergoes extraordinary transformations, which have been witnessed by large numbers of pilgrims and visitors and have been likewise duly authenticated.
The statue in which the bones of the young Martyr are encased was – when it first came from the hands of the artist – far from being a work of art. The figure was uncouth; the face was of a morbid white color; the lips were thick and a grimace was noticeable about the mouth. Unfortunately the ebony case made to contain the statue, a gift of the Bishop of Potenza, was too short, and in consequence the position given to the figure was ungraceful. The case was, notwithstanding, closed and sealed, and the key kept in Naples.
The first change noticeable in the statue, took place almost immediately after the arrival of the Saint’s relics in Mugnano. The 29th of September, 1805, was fixed as the day when the urn was to be placed on the altar prepared for it. To the surprise of all present, extraordinary changes were visible in the statue, though the seals were found to be intact and the key had remained, as we have said, all the time in Naples.
The awkward position given to the statue was changed for one more graceful; the color of the countenance became delicate and bright; and the grimace about the mouth gave place to a pleasing smile. The form of the statue had become elegant. The hair, the hands and the position of the arrows were all changed.
The next great change took place twenty years after: In 1824 the first case was replaced by one more beautiful. The hair had again changed and was more abundant. The eyes opened several times during the public devotions, and when the statue was placed in the new case, which was nearly a foot longer than the former one, the feet which at first were at some distance from the end, gradually extended themselves so as not to touch the extremity of the case.
A new and very striking prodigy occurred in 1841: The statue was so placed that only the profile could be seen by those standing in front. What was not the astonishment of the vast course of people when one day the face of the Saint, in the presence of all, turned around, so that fully three-fourths of it became visible.
On the 27th of May, 1892, the statue again changed its position in the presence of a whole pilgrimage, and the change was duly authenticated by the ecclesiastical authorities.
During my own stay in Mugnano, I saw the statue changing color very frequently, passing from pale to a light blush and again to a darker red. The lips were sometimes compressed and sometimes opened. No interference with the statue is possible, since it is placed in the wall and closed in by a thick plate of crystal glass and locked with three keys, which are held by three different authorities. One of these is the Bishop of Nola himself.
THE GREAT STATUE OF THE SAINT
A third object of interest in the sanctuary of the Shrine is a magnificent statue in wood presented by Cardinal Ruffo-Scilla in 1806, which is used in public processions of the Saint. In the year 1823, during the procession, the bearers of the statue felt that it was unusually heavy, and the pilgrims at the same time remarked that the color of the face was much brighter than usual, giving the statue almost a lifelike appearance.
On the following day a kind of sweat, which filled the air with a fragrant perfume, was seen oozing from the forehead and eyes and falling on the breast, where it gathered round the reliquary which rested on the bosom of the Saint. This prodigy lasted a long time and, as in the case of the others, was seen by multitudes of witnesses and duly examined and authenticated by both the ecclesiastical and civil authorities. For these reasons, the statue is naturally held in the highest veneration by the people.
THE SPECIAL SIGN
But the marvel which made the greatest impression on me during my visit was the following: On the ninth day, I was in a side chapel. The Reverend Mother was speaking to a contractor, further up in the church, regarding some repairs. One of the sisters of the Sanctuary approached me and said quite simply:
“Father, have you seen the sign?”
“What sign?” I asked. “I have seen so many wonders during the days I have been here.”
“Oh!” she said, “you haven’t got the sign?”
“If it is anything more wonderful than what I have already seen,” I replied, “I would not dare to ask for it. It would be presumption on my part.”
“Oh! no, no,” she answered. “You have come from a long distance and have remained here so many days; the Little Saint must give you the sign.”
Saying this, she pulled me gently towards the altar where the urn containing the miraculous image is placed. She had not given me the slightest idea of what this sign consisted of. We knelt in front of the urn and began a short prayer. Suddenly, a sharp report rang out, as if the crystal glass had been struck sharply by something hard. The little sister jumped up, radiant with smiles, and said to me: “Now you have got it.” The report was so distinct and sharp that the Reverend Mother, further up in the church, ignorant altogether of what we were about, jumped round and asked, “What is it for?”
“It is for the Father,” replied the sister.
This knock is a well-known sign given from time to time to clients of the Saint and is, I am happy to say, looked upon as a special mark of her good pleasure. And surely it was a harbinger of good for me.
Arriving in Rome shortly afterwards, I had a private audience with the saintly Pontiff, Pius X, who manifested the greatest pleasure on hearing of my visit to Mugnano and gave me several marks of his favor, one of which was the permission to say a votive mass weekly in honor of the Saint.
THE MULTIPLICATION OF BOOKS
Before closing this chapter, I will mention a last prodigy, namely, the multiplication of books, namely, those of the life of the Saint.
The good priest, Don Francisco di Lucia