was incessant.  As she meditated over the Scriptures, her tears fell so profusely that her sight was endangered.  Jerome warned her to spare her eyes, but she said:  “I must disfigure that face which, contrary to God’s commandment, I have painted with rouge, white lead and antimony.”  If this be a sin against the Almighty, bear witness, O ye daughters of Eve!  Her love for the poor continued to be the motive of her great liberality.  In fact, her giving knew no bounds.  Fuller wisely remarks that “liberality must have banks as well as a stream;” but Paula said:  “My prayer is that I may die a beggar, leaving not a penny to my daughter and indebted to strangers for my winding sheet.”  Her petition was literally granted, for she died leaving her daughter not only without a penny but overwhelmed in a mass of debts.

As Jerome approaches the description of Paula’s death, he says:  “Hitherto the wind has all been in my favor and my keel has smoothly ploughed through the heaving sea.  But now my bark is running upon the rocks, the billows are mountain high, and imminent shipwreck awaits me.”  Yet Paula, like David, must go the way of all the earth.  Surrounded by her followers chanting psalms, she breathed her last.  An immense concourse of people attended her funeral.  Not a single monk lingered in his cell.  Thus, the twenty hard years of self-torture for this Roman lady of culture ended in the rest of the grave.

Upon her tombstone was placed this significant inscription: 

     “Within this tomb a child of Scipio lies,
     A daughter of the far-famed Pauline house,
     A scion of the Gracchi, of the stock
     Of Agamemnon’s self, illustrious: 
     Here rests the lady Paula, well beloved
     Of both her parents, with Eustochium
     For daughter; she the first of Roman dames
     Who hardship chose and Bethlehem for Christ.”

Another interesting character of that period was Marcella, a beautiful woman of illustrious lineage, a descendant of consuls and prefects.  After a married life of seven years her husband died.  She determined not to embark on the matrimonial seas a second time, but to devote herself to works of charity.  Cerealis, an old man, but of consular rank, offered her his fortune that he might consider her less his wife than his daughter.  “Had I a wish to marry,” was her noble reply, “I should look for a husband and not for an inheritance.”  Disdaining all enticements to remain in society, she began her monastic career with joy and turned her home into a retreat for women who, like herself, wished to retire from the world.  It is not known just what rules governed their relations, but they employed the time in moderate fasting, prayers and alms-giving.

Marcella lavished her wealth upon the poor.  Jerome praises her philanthropic labors thus:  “Our widow’s clothing was meant to keep out the cold and not to show her figure.  She stored her money in the stomachs of the poor rather than to keep it at her own disposal.”  Seldom seen upon the streets, she remained at home, surrounded by virgins and widows, obedient and loving to her mother.  Among the high-born women it was regarded as degrading to assume the costume of the nun, but she bore the scorn of her social equals with humility and grace.