charity, of which Sapricius was unworthy, through his hardness of heart, and his refusal to pardon injuries. Thus were the crowns transferred. What a terrible lesson for those who harbour in their souls sentiments of hatred and vengeance against their brethren! "I want mercy and not sacrifice," said the Lord; and never will He receive into his friendship and grace him who obstinately refuses to pardon his enemies, even though he should shed all the blood in his body for religion; for it is not the torments that make martyrs, but charity. The feast of this illustrious Artisan is celebrated in the Greek as well as in the Latin Church, on the 9th of February.

BLESSED GENTIL, SHOEMAKER'S WIFE.

I.

WHILST Charles V., with more than ordinary pomp, was being crowned in Bologna by Clement VII., there was celebrated in heaven the coronation of a poor woman, in reward of her heroic virtues, which rendered her the model of modest virgins, patient wives, and fervent widows. She was called Gentil, and was the daughter of Thomas Justo, a silversmith of Verona. Gentil was born in Ravenna, of which city her mother was also a native, and had the fortune to meet in her youth with a holy virgin, through whose example and Christian

conversation she took a great interest in works of piety, and every act of virtue. In imitation of her, she avoided those places and diversions in which the innocence of incautious youth usually perishes, for death is met with where happiness was sought. It is wonderful what the counsels of a good friend can do in a well-disposed mind. As a bad companion generally sticks the pitch of his vices to those who have the misfortune to be familiar with him, so, on the other hand, intercourse with the virtuous infuses into the soul a love of virtue, and a contempt and horror of whatever can stain the purity of the soul. There are few who may not attribute their improvement or their ruin to a good or bad friend.

By the side of so good a companion, it is wonderful how Gentil advanced on the way of perfection. She was a most modest and laborious virgin; and with equal pleasure put her hand to the brush or the wheel, as she did to the rosary beads and the discipline; for in one and the other she only sought to please God, the sole centre of her love. She was very young when her parents thought of marrying her, thinking more of the worldly condition of the husband than his qualities as a Christian. The parents who place the happiness of their daughters' marriage in the good matches they procure for them, and in the splendid dresses with which they blind and fill them with pride, generally meet with a great mistake in it; for, with their mind fixed on this, which is of no importance, they forget the interior gifts of the soul, which is the principal thing, and should be the motive of all marriages, if they are to be firm, blessed, and happy. For, when avarice and lust, either by regarding alone riches or beauty, are the motives of a marriage, that marriage is seldom fortunate. A man has no reason to wonder that, if he marry for money or beauty, which to-morrow may cease to exist, the love and benevolence which rest on such slight foundations

should also disappear with them. Daily experience tells us that, in marriages in which God does not intervene, but passion; and virtue, and similarity of disposition do not join the spouses' hands, but the greed of riches, or disordered inclinations; the husband and wife soon disagree, and the wine of the wedding is converted into vinegar, the love into hate, and what should be a sweet and agreeable companionship becomes a sad and painful captivity. Thus did it happen to our invincible heroine, who was married in her fresh young years to James Planella, a shoemaker, and met with nothing in her wedded life but briers and thorns. She had two sons, one of whom died at seven years of age; and the other, who was miraculously cured of a serious illness, afterwards became a priest.

II.

Soon the honey of her marriage, contracted more to please her parents than from her own choice, melted away; for the servant of God's holy method of life excited the anger and displeasure of her husband to such a degree that it not only brought her an abundant harvest of injurious charges, calumnies, and taunts, but also cruel and barbarous treatment. Jealousy and suspicion are bad counsellors. Everything the poor woman did was ill-done in the eyes of Planella, everything was an insult to him, everything a proof of her little or no affection for him. The poor thing was extremely beautiful, and the wretched man believed that she disliked him, and gave her guilty love to others. There was nothing wanting to convert a family which, as far as Gentil was concerned, might have been the

reflection of the peace of paradise, into a miserable and prolonged hell on earth. All was shouts, charges, and hard names for the innocent spouse; and, in his fury, he even sometimes raised his hand to his defenceless victim. But she contented herself with simply and meekly explaining the truth, and never returned evil for evil, nor gave an answer to his insults. On the contrary, she bore her heavy cross, not only with resignation to the divine will, but with ineffable peace, as a favour sent her by the Father of mercies. What she did feel, indeed, and what wounded her very heart, was the offence to God, and the scandal which the blinded husband gave his tender children. Edifying, certainly, were the patience and charity of the holy wife, but still more edifying was the silence with which she bore it all. When man is in tribulation, he seeks a friend in whom to confide his sufferings, and breaks into complaints to alleviate his pain; but never did a complaint pass the lips of Gentil, never did her neighbours learn from her what she was suffering in silence. Her heroic patience went even further: though her prayers had such weight with God, she never asked Him to free her from that continual martyrdom. How many heartburnings would many wives escape if they only imitated this example of silence and abnegation! Gentil had no confidants in her troubles but God and her confessor. On a certain occasion, her intimate friend, Margaret, knowing by divine revelation the trials of the martyred wife, asked her in all charity: "How are you getting on, my child?" And Gentil, with a smile on her lips, and her heart full of joy, answered: Right well, Margaret; I could not ask to be better. The Lord is better to me than I deserve." Such was the consolation which the testimony of a good conscience consolation which the Lord abundantly her soul in the midst of her sufferings.

gave her,—a poured out on Come, come,"

replied the other, "remember, a little bird tells me your trials. But never mind, bear with your cross, and your reward shall be great."

Gentil, in spite of her husband's perverseness, treated him with all the meekness which Jesus Christ taught us. She was always attentive and obedient to all his commands, ever docile and submissive to his wishes. She answered his wicked expressions with manifestations of affection and love, his sourness and ill-treatment with extreme sweetness, his ingratitude and renewed injuries with a particular care in serving and pleasing him. But this holy endeavour, far from contributing to soften that adamant heart, only embittered it the more and roused it against his loving consort. Such is the development of an unsubdued passion. The wretch, not satisfied with outraging her with word and deed, obliged her to pass the night, from daylight to daylight, welting shoes and regulating the clothes of the house. But Gentil thought nothing of it; for the solitude and silence afforded her an opportunity of meditating on the vanity of all the goods and pleasures of the world, and of holding, during her work, tender conversations with God and the Blessed Virgin; from which she derived new strength to carry her cross, under whose weight many women without her solid virtue would have succumbed. And she did not, for all that, allow this to exempt her from assiduously applying herself during the day to her domestic tasks, taking special care to have everything well arranged, clean, and polished, as she was anxious to give her husband no occasion to get out of temper.

But the capital enemy of our souls knows how to suggest dangers in the very thing that should edify us; and the unhappy husband allowed himself to be caught in his nets. As his soul knew neither peace nor repose, he declared bitter war against his loving spouse. With