The Life of St. Frances of Rome, and Others | Page 6

of Christ. While the characteristics of the
Patriarchal and Jewish miracles are not wholly obliterated, an element,
which if not entirely new, is new in the intensity of its operation, is
introduced into the miraculous life of the children of Christ, which life
is really the prolongation of the supernatural life of Jesus Christ
Himself. It is accompanied also with a partial restoration of that
peculiar power which was possessed by man before he fell, when his
body became a veil to hide the world of spirits from his soul. While
prophecies of future events have not wholly ceased in the Christian
Church, and miracles are frequently wrought for the conferring of some
temporal blessings, yet these other wonderful features distinguish the
supernatural records of Christianity from those of both Patriarchal and
Jewish times. The undying power of the Cross is manifested in the
peculiar sufferings of the Saints, in their mystic communion with the
invisible world, and in that especial sanctity to which alone miraculous
gifts are for the most part accorded under the Gospel. Not that all these
three peculiarities are to be observed in the life of every Saint under the

Gospel. Far from it, indeed. The supernatural life of the Saints varies
with different individuals, according to the pleasure of that Almighty
Spirit, who communicates Himself to His elect in ten thousand
mysterious ways, and manifests Himself according to His own will
alone. Still, at times, they are found united, in conjunction with those
miraculous powers which were possessed under the old dispensations
in one individual. In such cases we behold the Life and Passion of the
King of Saints visibly renewed before our eyes; the law of
suffering,--that mysterious power, as life-giving as it is
unfathomable,--is set before us in an intensity of operation, which at
once calls forth the scoffs of the unbeliever, and quickens the faith of
the humble Christian; the privileges of eternity are anticipated, and the
blessings of a lost Paradise are in part restored. Jesus Christ lives, and
is in agony before us; the dread scene of Calvary is renewed, united
with those ineffable communications between the suffering soul and its
God, which accompanied the life and last hours of the Redeemer of
mankind. Our adorable Lord is, as it were, still incarnate amongst us,
displaying to our reverent faith the glories of His Passion in the persons
of those who are, in the highest sense that is possible, His members, a
portion of His humanity, in whom He dwells, who dwell in Him, and
whose life, in a degree incomprehensible even to themselves, is hid
with Christ in God. Such a Saint was St. Frances of Rome, one of those
glorious creations of Divine grace by means of which, at the time when
the Holy City was filled with bloodshed and ravaged with pestilence,
and when the heaviest disasters afflicted the Church, Almighty God set
forth before men the undying life of the Cross, and the reality of that
religion which seemed to be powerless to check the outrages of its
professed followers.
In Paradise, then, as has been said, the whole nature of man ministered
to the fulfilment of the end for which he was created, namely, the
knowledge and love of God. He came forth from his Maker's hands
endowed not only with a natural soul and body untainted with sin, but
with such supernatural gifts, arising from the Divine Presence within
him, that nothing was wanting but perseverance to his final perfection.
The various elements in his nature were not, as now, at war with one
another. His body did not blind the eye of his soul, and agitate it with
the storms of concupiscence; nor did the soul employ the body as its

instrument of rebellion against God. Though not yet admitted to that
glorious vision of the Eternal which was to be the reward of his
obedience, yet he lived in direct commerce with the world of spirits. He
knew and conversed with God and His angels in a way which is now
wholly incomprehensible to the vast majority of his descendants.
When Adam fell, he became, in one word, what we all are now by
nature. Not only was he placed under a curse, but his God was hidden
from his eyes; and that corporeal habitation, which he had abused to his
soul's destruction, became the prison of his soul's captivity. Though
created in the image of God, and retaining, even when fallen, certain
traces of his celestial origin, he became a mere helpless denizen of
earth, and a veil descended and hid his God and all spiritual beings
from his mind. From that time forwards suffering became not merely
the law of his daily life, but the only means by which he could be