The two frescoes by Francia are placed nearest to the altar, exactly opposite each other, and are on the whole the best-preserved of the series. Here Raphael’s influence is more apparent than in any of Francia’s works, and it is highly probable that he visited Bologna while the chapel was being painted. The fresco of the Marriage at once recalls Raphael’s “Sposalizio” in the grouping of the figures, and is remarkable for its grace of composition. The officiating priest stands between the bride and bride-groom under the portal of a chapel which opens on to a wooded valley. The bride shrinks timidly back and turns her face away as one of her maidens holds her hand on which Valerian places the ring. On either side are groups of youths and maidens who, by their intent gaze and animated gesture, show their interest in the marriage that is being celebrated. The action is simple, the heads noble and refined; those of the maidens are especially remarkable for their beauty, while the grace of line that marks the grouping is happily continued in the landscape beyond, which harmonizes well with the scene before us. Evidently the subject was exactly suited to Francia’s genius, and he has succeeded admirably. The same praise can scarcely be given as fully to the “Burial of St. Cecilia,” wonderful as is the power of its simple pathos. There is a want of dramatic action in the spectators, and at the same time a formality in the arrangement of the groups on either side of the picture, which gives the whole an air of stiffness and renders it inferior in point of composition to the Marriage. But these defects are atoned for by the beauty of the central portion, where four young men hold the lifeless form of the martyred saint suspended in a winding-sheet above the opening of the vault. A wreath of white roses crowns her gentle brows, and the bystanders press forward to take a last look at the sleeping face that is still so fair in death. As in the Christ of the Pietà all trace of suffering has passed away, the hands are folded with exquisite tenderness, and the sweet maiden seems to lie there wrapt once more in the deep unconscious sleep of childhood. For a moment we wonder if this happy slumber can be death, but—if we look a little further, beyond the pale light just breaking into the valley, above the tall cliffs and the topmost branches of the waving palm-trees—we shall see the dim form of an angel who wings his flight upwards, bearing the soul of the martyr back to God. The frescoes of St. Cecilia were the last works which Francia painted for his patron Giovanni Bentivoglio. In 1507, perhaps even before the chapel was completed, the Bentivogli were driven out of Bologna by a popular rising and forced to flee for their lives. Not only did Francia lose their patronage and friendship, but he had the grief of seeing some of his best works destroyed by an infuriated mob in the sack of their palace in the Strada Donato.