The
Lives of the Saints

102

March 7.

SS. Perpetua, Felicitas, Saturus, and Companions, MM. in Africa, A.D. 203.
S. Eubulus, M. at Cæsarea in Palestine, A.D. 308.
S. Paul the Simple, H. in the Thebaid, 4th cent.
S. Gaudiosus, B. of Brescia, circ. A.D. 445.
S. Easterwin, Ab. of Wearmouth, A.D. 785. (See S. Benedict Biscop, Jan. 12th; p. 172.)
S. Thomas Aquinas, Doct., O.P., at Fossa Nuova, A.D. 1274.

SS. PERPETUA, FELICITAS, AND COMP., MM.

(A.D. 203.)

[Roman and all Western Martyrologies on this day, but by the Greeks on March 1st. Authorities:—The genuine Acts of these martyrs, and a sermon by S. Augustine of Hippo on them. The names of Perpetua and Felicitas occur in the Canon of the Mass. The first part of the Acts was written by S. Perpetua herself, and reaches to the eve of her martyrdom. S. Saturus then took the pen, and added the account of his vision; and when he had gained his crown, an eye-witness of their passion closed the account. Tertullian quotes these Acts in his Book De Anima, c. 55; and S. Augustine in his Sermons, 280, 283, and 294. They were anciently read publicly in the churches of Africa.]

A violent persecution broke out under the Emperor Severus, in 202. It reached Africa the following year; when, by order of Minutius Timinianus, or Firminianus, five catechumens were apprehended at Carthage for the faith; namely, Revocatus, and his fellow-slave Felicitas, Saturninus, and Secundulus, and Vivia Perpetua. Felicitas was expecting her confinement; and Perpetua had an infant at her breast, was of a good family, twenty-two years of age, and married to a person of quality in the city. She had a father, a mother, and two brothers; the third, Dinocrates, died about seven years old. These five martyrs were joined by Saturus, probably brother to Saturninus, and who seems to have been103 their instructor: he underwent a voluntary imprisonment, because he would not abandon them. The father of S. Perpetua, who was a Pagan, and advanced in years, loved her more than all his other children. Her mother was probably a Christian, as was one of her brothers, the other a catechumen. The martyrs, for some days before they were committed to prison, were kept under a strong guard in a private house: and the account Perpetua gives of their sufferings to the eve of their death, is as follows: "We were in the hands of our persecutors, when my father, out of the affection he bore me, made new efforts to shake my resolution. I said to him, 'Can that vessel, which you see, change its name?' He said, 'No.' I replied, 'Nor can I call myself any other than I am, a Christian.' At that word my father in a rage fell upon me, as if he would have pulled out my eyes, and beat me; but went away in confusion, seeing me invincible. After this we enjoyed a little repose, and in that interval received baptism. The Holy Ghost, on our coming out of the water, inspired me to pray for nothing but patience under bodily sufferings. A few days after this we were put into prison; I was shocked at the horror and darkness of the place; for till then I knew not what such sort of places were. We suffered much that day, chiefly on account of the great heat caused by the crowd, and the ill-treatment we met with from the soldiers. I was, moreover, tortured with concern, because I had not my baby with me. But the deacons, Tertius and Pomponius, who assisted us, obtained, by money, that we might pass some hours in a more commodious part of the prison, to refresh ourselves. My infant was then brought to me almost famished, and I gave it the breast. I recommended him afterward carefully to my mother, and encouraged my brother; but was much afflicted to see their concern for me. After a few days my sorrow was changed into comfort,104 and my prison itself seemed agreeable. One day my brother said to me, 'Sister, I am persuaded that you are a special favourite of heaven; pray to God to reveal to you whether this imprisonment will end in martyrdom, or not.' I, knowing God gave me daily tokens of His goodness, answered, full of confidence, that I would inform him on the morrow. I therefore asked that favour of God, and had this vision. I saw a golden ladder, which reached from earth to heaven; but so narrow that only one could mount it at a time. To the two sides were fastened all sorts of iron instruments, swords, lances, hooks, and knives; so that if any one went up carelessly, he was in great danger of having his flesh torn. At the foot of the ladder lay a dragon of enormous size, who kept guard to turn back and terrify those that endeavoured to mount it. The first that went up was Saturus, who was not apprehended with us, but voluntarily surrendered himself afterward on our account: when he had reached the top of the ladder, he turned towards me, and said, 'Perpetua, I wait for you; but take care lest the dragon bite you.' I answered, 'In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, he shall not hurt me.' Then the dragon, as if afraid of me, gently lifted his head from under the ladder, and I, having got upon the first step, set my foot upon his head. Thus I mounted to the top, and there I saw an extensive garden, and in the middle of it a tall man sitting down dressed like a shepherd, having white hair. He was milking his sheep, surrounded with many thousands of persons clad in white. He called me by my name, bid me welcome, and gave me some curds made of the milk which he had drawn: I put my hands together, and took and ate them; and all that were present said aloud, Amen. The noise awakened me, chewing something very sweet. As soon as I had related this vision to my brother, we both concluded that we should suffer death.

105

"After some days, a rumour having got about that we were to be examined, my father came from the city to the prison, overwhelmed with grief. 'Daughter,' said he, 'have pity on my grey hairs, if I yet deserve to be called your father; if I have brought you up. I pray you consider that my love of you made me always prefer you to your brothers, and make me not now a reproach to mankind. Have respect for your mother and your aunt; have compassion on your child that cannot survive you; lay aside this obstinacy, lest you ruin us all; for not one of us will dare open his lips any more if misfortune befall you.' He took me by the hands at the same time, and kissed them; he threw himself at my feet in tears. I confess, I was pierced with sorrow when I considered that my father was the only person of our family that would not rejoice at my martyrdom. I endeavoured to comfort him, saying, 'Father, grieve not; nothing will happen but what pleases God; for we are not at our own disposal.' He then departed, much concerned. Next day, whilst we were at dinner, a person came in suddenly to summon us to examination. The report of this soon brought a vast crowd of people into the audience chamber. We were placed on a sort of scaffold before the judge, Hilarian, procurator of the province, the proconsul having lately died. All who were questioned before me boldly confessed Jesus Christ. When it came to my turn, my father stood forward, holding up my infant. He drew me a little aside, conjuring me in the most tender manner not to be insensible to the misery I should bring on that innocent creature, to which I had given life. The president Hilarian joined with my father, and said, 'What! will neither the gray hairs of a father, nor the tender innocence of a child, move you? Sacrifice for the prosperity of the emperors.' I replied, 'I will not do it.' 'Are you then a Christian,' said Hilarian.106 I answered, 'Yes, I am.' As my father attempted to draw me from the scaffold, Hilarian commanded him to be beaten off, and he had a blow given him with a stick, which I felt as much as if I had been struck myself, so much was I grieved to see my father thus treated in his old age. Then the judge pronounced our sentence, by which we were all condemned to be exposed to wild beasts. We then joyfully returned to our prison; and as my infant was not yet weaned, I immediately sent Pomponius the deacon, to demand him of my father, but he refused to send him. And God so ordered it, that the child no longer required to suck, nor did my milk incommode me." Secundulus, being no more mentioned, seems to have died in prison before this interrogatory. Before Hilarian pronounced sentence, he had caused Saturus, Saturninus, and Revocatus to be scourged; and Perpetua and Felicitas to be beaten on the face. They were reserved for the shows which were to be exhibited for the soldiers in the camp, on the festival of Geta, who had been made Cæsar four years before, by his father Severus, when his brother Caracalla was created Augustus.

S. Perpetua relates another vision with which she was favoured, as follows: "A few days after receiving sentence, when we were all together in prayer, I happened to name Dinocrates, at which I was astonished, because I had not before had him in my thoughts; and I that moment knew that I ought to pray for him. This I began to do with great fervour before God; and the same night I had the following vision: I saw Dinocrates coming out of a dark place, where there were many others, exceedingly hot and thirsty; his face was dirty, his complexion pale, with the ulcer in his face of which he had died at seven years of age, and it was for him that I had prayed. There seemed a great distance between him and me, so that it was im107possible for us to come to each other. Near him stood a vessel full of water: he attempted to drink, but could not reach it. This mightily grieved me, and I awoke. By this I knew my brother was in pain, but I trusted I could relieve him by prayer: so I began to pray for him, beseeching God with tears, day and night, that he would grant me my request; and I continued doing this till we were removed to the camp prison: being destined for a public show on the festival of the Cæsar Geta. The day we were in the stocks27 I had this vision; I saw the place, which I had beheld dark before, now luminous; and Dinocrates, with his body very clean and well clad, refreshing himself; and in the place of his wound was a scar only. I awoke, and knew he was relieved from his pain.28

"Some days after, Pudens, the officer who commanded the guards of the prison, seeing that God favoured us with many gifts, had a great esteem of us, and admitted many people to visit us, for our mutual comfort. On the day of the public shows, my father came overwhelmed with sorrow. He tore his beard, threw himself on the ground, cursed his years, and said enough to move any creature; and I was ready to die with sorrow to see my father in so deplorable a condition. On the eve of the shows I was favoured with the following vision. The deacon Pomponius, methought, knocked very hard at the prison door, which I opened to him. He was clothed with a white robe, embroidered with innumerable pomegranates of gold. He said to me,108 'Perpetua, we wait for thee, come along.' He then took me by the hand and led me through very rough places into the middle of the amphitheatre, and said, 'Fear not.' And, leaving me, said again, 'I will be with thee in a moment, and bear a part with thee in thy pains.' I was wondering the beasts were not let out against us, when there appeared a very ill-favoured negro, who came to encounter me with others. But another beautiful troop of young men declared for me, and anointed me with oil for the combat. Then appeared a man of a great stature, in rich apparel, like the master of the gladiators, having a wand in one hand, and in the other a green bough on which hung golden apples. Having ordered silence, he said that the bough should be my prize, if I vanquished the negro: but that if he conquered me, he would kill me with a sword. After a long and obstinate engagement, I threw the negro on his face, and trod upon his head. The people applauded my victory loudly. I then approached the master of the amphitheatre, who gave me the bough with a kiss, and said, 'Peace be with thee, my daughter.' After this I awoke, and found that I was not to combat with wild beasts so much as with devils." Here ends the relation of S. Perpetua.

S. Saturus had also a vision, which he wrote down himself. He and his companions were conducted by a bright angel into a most delightful garden, in which they met some holy martyrs lately dead, namely Jocundus, Saturninus, and Artaxius, who had been burned alive for the faith, and Quintus, who had died in prison. They inquired after other martyrs of their acquaintance, and were conducted into a most stately palace, shining like the sun; and in it saw the king of this most glorious place surrounded by his happy subjects, and heard the voice of a great multitude crying, "Holy, holy, holy." Saturus, turning to Perpetua, said,109 "Thou hast here what thou didst desire." She replied, "God be praised, I have more joy here than ever I had in the flesh." He adds, that on going out of the garden they found before the gate, on the right hand, the bishop of Carthage, Optatus, and on the left, Aspasius, priest of the same church, both of them alone and sorrowful. They fell at the martyrs' feet, and begged that they would reconcile them together, for a dissension had happened between them. The martyrs embraced them, saying, "Art not thou our bishop, and thou a priest of our Lord? It is our duty to prostrate ourselves before you." Perpetua was discoursing with them; but certain angels came and drove away Optatus and Aspasius; and bade them not to disturb the martyrs, but be reconciled to each other. The bishop, Optatus, was also charged to heal the divisions that reigned in his church. The angels after these reprimands seemed ready to shut the gates of the garden. "Here," says he, "we saw many of our brethren and martyrs likewise. We were fed with an ineffable odour, which delighted and satisfied us." Such was the vision of Saturus. The rest of the Acts were added by an eye-witness. God had called to himself Secundulus in prison. Felicitas was eight months gone with child, and as the day of the shows approached, she was inconsolable lest she should not be confined before then; fearing that her martyrdom would be deferred on that account, because women with child were not allowed to be executed, before they were delivered: the rest also were sensibly afflicted on their part to leave her behind. Therefore they unanimously joined in prayer to obtain of God that she might be delivered before the day of the shows. Scarce had they finished their prayer, when Felicitas found herself in labour. She cried out under the violence of her pain; then one of the guards asked her, if she could not bear the throes of childbirth without crying out, what she110 would do when exposed to the wild beasts. She answered, "It is I myself that am enduring these pangs now; but then there will be another with me who will suffer for me, because I shall suffer for Him." She was then delivered of a daughter, which a certain Christian woman took care of, and brought up as her own child. Pudens, the keeper of the prison, having been already converted, secretly did them all the good offices in his power. The day before they suffered they were given, according to custom, their last meal, which was called a free supper, and they ate in public. Their chamber was full of people, with whom they talked, threatening them with the judgments of God, and extolling the happiness of their own sufferings. Saturus, smiling at the curiosity of those that came to see them, said to them, "Will not to-morrow suffice to satisfy your inhuman curiosity? However you may seem now to pity us, to-morrow you will clap your hands at our death, and applaud our murderers. But observe well our faces, that you may know them again at that terrible day when all men shall be judged." They spoke with such courage and intrepidity that they astonished the infidels, and occasioned the conversion of several among them. The day of their triumph having come, they went out of the prison to the amphitheatre full of joy. Perpetua walked with a composed countenance and easy pace, with her eyes modestly cast down; Felicitas went with her, following the men, not able to contain her joy. When they came to the gate of the amphitheatre, the guards would have given them, according to custom, the superstitious habits with which they adorned such as appeared at these sights. For the men, a red mantle, which was the habit of the priests of Saturn; for the women, a little fillet round the head, by which the priestesses of Ceres were known. The martyrs rejected those idolatrous vestments; and, by the mouth of Perpetua,111 said they came thither of their own accord, on the promise made them that they should not be forced to anything contrary to their religion. The tribune then consented that they should appear in the amphitheatre habited as they were. Perpetua sang, as being already victorious; Revocatus, Saturninus, and Saturus threatened the people that beheld them with the judgments of God: and as they passed before the balcony of Hilarian, they said to him, "Thou judgest us in this world, but God will judge thee in the next." The people, enraged at their boldness, begged that they might be scourged, and this was granted. They accordingly passed before the Venatores,29 or hunters, each of whom gave them a lash. They rejoiced exceedingly in being thought worthy to resemble our Saviour in his sufferings. God granted to each of them the death they desired; for when they had discoursed together about what kind of martyrdom would be agreeable to each, Saturninus declared that he should prefer to be exposed to beasts of several sorts, in order that his sufferings might be aggravated. Accordingly, he and Revocatus, after having been attacked by a leopard, were also assaulted by a bear. Saturus dreaded nothing so much as a bear, and therefore hoped a leopard would despatch him at once with his teeth. He was then exposed to a wild boar, but the beast turned upon his keeper, who received such a wound from him, that he died in a few days after, and Saturus was only dragged along by him. Then they tied the martyr near a bear, but that beast came not out of his lodge, so that Saturus, being sound and not hurt, was called upon for a second encounter. This gave him an opportunity of speaking to Pudens, the gaoler that had been converted. The martyr encouraged him to constancy in112 the faith, and said to him, "Thou seest I have not yet been hurt by any beast, as I desired and foretold: believe then stedfastly in Christ; I am going where thou wilt see a leopard with one bite take away my life." It happened so, for a leopard being let out upon him, sprang upon him, and in a moment he was deluged with blood, whereupon the people jeering, cried out, "He is well baptized." The martyr said to Pudens, "Go, remember my faith, and let our sufferings rather strengthen than trouble thee. Give me the ring thou hast on thy finger." Saturus, having dipped it in his wound gave it him back to keep as a pledge to animate him to steadfastness in his faith, and soon after, fell down dead. Thus he went first to glory, to wait for Perpetua, according to her vision.

In the mean time, Perpetua and Felicitas had been exposed to a wild cow; Perpetua and Felicitas were the first attacked, and the cow having tossed the former, she fell on her back. Then putting herself in a sitting posture, and perceiving her clothes were torn, she gathered them about her in the best manner she could, to cover herself, thinking more of decency than her sufferings.30 Getting up, not to seem disconsolate, she tied up her hair, which was fallen loose, and perceiving Felicitas on the ground much hurt by a toss of the cow, she helped her to rise. They stood together, expecting another assault from the beasts, but the people crying out that it was enough, they were led to the gate Sanevivaria, where those that were not killed by the beasts were despatched at the end of the shows by the confectores. Perpetua was here received by Rusticus, a catechumen. She seemed as if just returning out of a long ecstasy, and asked when she was to fight the wild cow. When told what had passed, she could not believe it till113 she saw on her body and clothes the marks of what she had suffered. She called for her brother, and said to him and Rusticus, "Continue firm in the faith, love one another, and be not distressed at our sufferings." All the martyrs were now brought to the place of their butchery. But the people, not yet satisfied with beholding blood, cried out to have them led into the middle of the amphitheatre, that they might have the pleasure of seeing them receive the last blow. Upon this, some of the martyrs rose up, and having given one another the kiss of peace, went of their own accord into the arena; others were despatched without speaking, or stirring out of the places they were in. S. Perpetua fell into the hands of a very timorous and unskilful apprentice of the gladiators, who, with a trembling hand, gave her many slight wounds, which made her languish a long time. Thus, says S. Augustine, did two women, amidst fierce beasts and the swords of gladiators, vanquish the devil and all his fury. The day of their martyrdom was the 7th of March, as it is marked in the most ancient martyrologies, and in a Roman Martyrology as old as the year 554. S. Prosper says they suffered at Carthage, which agrees with all the circumstances. Their bodies were preserved in the great church of Carthage, in the 5th century, as Victor of Utica relates. The body of S. Perpetua is said to be preserved at Bologna, in the Church of the Franciscans, but it is very questionable whether it is that of the S. Perpetua of Carthage, whose passion has just been narrated.

114

S. EUBULUS, M.

(A.D. 308.)

[By the Greeks on Feb. 3rd, in conjunction with S. Adrian; but by the Roman Martyrology on this day, and S. Adrian on March 5th. Authority:—Eusebius, Hist. Eccl. lib. viii., c. 11.]

In the persecution in Palestine, carried out under the ferocious governor Firmilian, Adrian and Eubulus, natives of Manganæa, suffered. They came to Cæsarea, and were asked the cause of their coming, as they entered the gates of the city. They confessed that they had come to see and minister to the martyrs of Jesus Christ. They were at once apprehended and brought before Firmilian. He ordered them to be scourged and torn with hooks, and then to be devoured by the beasts. After the lapse of two days, on the third of the nones of March, Adrian was cast before a lion, and afterwards slain with the sword. Eubulus was also reserved to the nones of March, and was then cast to the beasts. He was the last to suffer for the faith at Cæsarea in that persecution.

S. PAUL THE SIMPLE, H.

(4TH CENT.)

[Greek Menæa and Roman Martyrology on the same day. But some Latin Martyrologies on Dec. 18th, others on Jan. 11th. Authorities:—Palladius, in his Hist. Lausiaca; Ruffinus, in his Lives of the Fathers of the Desert; and Sozomen, Hist. Eccles., lib. i., c. 13.]

Paul the Simple was one of the first disciples of S. Antony. He did not embrace the religious life till he was sixty, and then it was in consequence of the bad conduct of his wife. He had been a labourer in a village of the Thebaid, and was very ignorant. He came to S. Antony, but the patriarch of hermits refused to admit him, thinking115 him too old to adopt the monastic life. Paul, however, remained three days and nights outside the cell of Antony, and would not leave. Antony then came forth, and found that the man had no food; he, therefore, received him for a while, hoping to disgust him with the life of a hermit by the severity of his discipline. He set Paul to pray outside his door, and told him not to desist till he was released. The simple old labourer obeyed, and Antony observed him, unseen, praying with the blazing sun shining down on his head at noon-day, and the moon looking on him at night, as rigid and immoveable as one of the date palms of the desert. He then brought him into his cave, and gave him some platting to do. When it was accomplished he rebuked Paul for his having doing it badly, and bade him undo his work again. The postulant did as ordered without a murmur. Then Antony brought bread, and set the table in order for supper, and called the hungry Paul to it; then he said, "Before we eat, let us recite twelve psalms and twelve prayers," and he did so; and when the psalms and prayers were done, Antony said, "We have looked on the bread, that will suffice for supper; now let us retire to rest." Yet Paul murmured not; so Antony saw that he was qualified to be a monk.

Once, as Antony and some of his guests were discoursing on spiritual matters, Paul asked very simply, "Were the prophets before Jesus Christ, or Jesus Christ before the prophets?" Then Antony reddened, and bade him keep in the background, and hold his tongue. Now Paul at once obeyed, and remained for some time silent, and out of sight, and they told Antony of it. Then he said, "Oh, my brethren! learn from this man what our obedience towards God ought to be. If I say anything, he does it instantly and cheerfully, and we—do we thus behave towards our God?"

116

S. THOMAS AQUINAS, D., O.P.

(A.D. 1274.)

[The oldest notices of S. Thomas are found in Gerard de Fracheto; in Thos. Cantipratensis; Stephen de Salanacho; Tocco, a Dominican, who had seen S. Thomas, and heard him preach, left an account of his life and miracles, this work formed the basis of the labours of the Inquisition into our saint's miracles, held in 1319. This, and the bull of his canonization, issued by John XXII., in 1323, is the foundation of the first part of Guido's life and acts of S. Thomas; the latter part contains the miracles substantiated at the second Inquisition, or those told on trustworthy authority. There are many other lives, as also histories of the translations of his body. John XXII. ordered his festival to be kept as that of a confessor, on March 7th; Pius V., in 1567, ordered it to be honoured in the same manner as were the feasts of the Four Doctors of the Church.]

"The age of S. Thomas Aquinas," says Bareille, "was that of Innocent III., and of S. Louis, of Albert the Great, and of Roger Bacon, of Giotto, and of Dante. That age witnessed the birth of the cathedral of Cologne, and the Summa Theologiæ, of the Divine Comedy, and La Sainte Chapelle, of the Imitation of Jesus Christ, and the cathedral of Amiens. It was so fruitful in great men and great monuments, that it would need an entire volume to give a complete list of both. When we wander amidst the marvels of the thirteenth century, we are astonished at the injustice done to it through the ignorance of mankind.

"This astonishment is increased when we consider more attentively the vast movement which was then going on in the bosom of mankind. This was the age in which the Universities of Oxford and Paris were founded, in which S. Louis established his kingdom on a legitimate basis; in which the barons wrung the Magna Charta from king John; in which the great religious orders of S. Dominic and S. Francis sprung up; in which gunpowder was invented, the telescope discovered, the laws of gravitation recognized; in which the principles of political representation and of par117liamentary debate sprang into fresh life; in which, lastly, the great nationalities of modern times were settling themselves decisively into their places. In the middle of this century S. Thomas appeared. This man sums up in his own person all that was purest and strongest in his age; he is a personification of that power which subjugates all other powers to its sway—the power of great ideas.

"Hitherto men have seen in S. Thomas nothing but the pious cenobite, or, at best, the saintly and profound theologian, who theorises in his cloister, scarce deigning to bestow a glance on the age in which he lives. But if we study the real facts of his history, if we put his works in connection with his actions, we see in him one of those active and impressionable minds which keep an anxious watch over the ideas of their time, either to array against them all the fulness of their power, as a dam against their disorderly movements, or to dash into their midst and to master them by guiding them. His was, indeed, an extraordinary genius, whose power contemporary minds were forced to recognize, whether they came to bruise themselves against his logic, or whether they came to submit themselves to his direction. He reigned in both ways, but more by seconding, than by checking, the movements of his age."

S. Thomas, "the most saintly of the learned, and the most learned of the saints," sprang from a noble race. His mother, Theodora, was descended from the Caraccioli, a Norman family, and was countess of Hano in her own right. Her ancestors had left Normandy 200 years before, and having driven the Saracens and Greeks out of the plains of Southern Italy, had established themselves at Naples and Messina, and having made prisoner the Roman pontiff, had received the crown from his trembling hands.

Landulf, Theodora's husband, of the house of Sommacoli, otherwise called Counts of Loreto, Ditcerra, and Bel118castro, belonged to one of the most remarkable families of middle Italy. His father, Thomas, achieved so high a military reputation, that the emperor, Frederick Barbarossa, nominated him Lieutenant-General of the Holy Roman empire, and gave him his sister, Frances of Suabia, to wife. His ancestors had been Dukes of Capua, but when their inheritance was wrested from them, they assumed the title of Aquino, and settled themselves between the Volturno and the Garigliano. In the reign of Otto III., one of these rough warriors took Rocca Sicca from the abbot of Monte Cassino, and levelled it with the ground (996). Thus S. Thomas was nephew of Frederick the First and Henry the Fourth, and cousin of Frederick the Second, and could claim connection with the royal houses of Arragon, Sicily, and France. Yet, noble and illustrious as he was by birth, he was to be made nobler and more illustrious still by the brightness of his virtues and by the splendour of his intellect.

The saint's father seems to have combined a martial spirit with a firm devotion to the faith. Theodora, a woman of immense energy of character, kept herself in control by severe fasts and frequent vigils. The little town of Aquino occupies the centre of a vast and fertile plain, commonly called Campagna Felice. One of the rugged mountains which hem it in on all sides pushes forward a spur, called Rocca Sicca; on the summit of this crag still stand the ruins of the castle of the Aquinos. It was in a chamber of this castle that a Dominican friar appeared to Theodora, and exclaimed, "Rejoice, O lady, for thou art with child, and thou shalt bring forth a son, whom thou shalt call Thomas; both thou and thy husband will think to make him a monk in the monastery of Monte Cassino, where the body of blessed Benedict rests, hoping to obtain possession of the great income of that monastery by his elevation, but119 God has ordained otherwise concerning him, for he will become a brother of the Order of Preachers, and famous for his knowledge and the sanctity of his life."31 She replied, "I am not worthy to bear such a son; but may the will of God be done!" In due course Theodora gave birth to him, who was afterwards called the Angelic Doctor, in the same year that S. Louis became king, and S. Francis of Assisi died. The date, however, is contested. Most trustworthy authorities put it at the year 1227. Some say it took place at Rocca Sicca, some at Aquino, others at Belcastro. Theodora had two other boys, both of whom adopted a military life; and three daughters: the eldest became a nun, and died an abbess; the second married Count San Severino; the youngest, when an infant, was sleeping with Thomas and his nurse, when a fork of lightning shot through the castle window, burnt the little girl to death, but left S. Thomas uninjured in his nurse's arms.

At the age of five, S. Thomas was sent to Monte Cassino, his parents hoping, in spite of the prophecy, if the prophecy had ever been really uttered, that he would eventually join the order, and become master of those vast possessions which were under the dominion of its abbots. The monastery in the early days of S. Thomas was the most distinguished school of letters in the land. The little child was doubtless dedicated to God, as others were; he was brought into the sanctuary in the arms of his parents, he spoke by their mouth, as at the font, he put out his tiny hand for the sacred corporal to be wrapped round it, and thus vowed himself to God. The education of the child was committed to a large-hearted and God-fearing man, whose chief object was to fill his soul with God. As a result of this training it came to pass that S. Thomas's constant question to his120 teachers was, "What is God?" Doubtless, they answered him in the apostle's words, "God is love." The personal appearance of the young S. Thomas indicated the presence of a governing spirit; not the command of brute force, but the command of intellect. He possessed that rare class of spiritual beauty which tells of gentleness, purity, and power. His massive head betokened strength; his broad tranquil brow, his meditative eyes, produced the impression, not so much of quickness and vivacity, as of breadth and command. He seemed to live in a sort of spiritual light,—as the sunbeam striking upon a landscape naturally beautiful invests it with a kind of transfiguration. Though he seldom spoke, when he did speak, he set hearts beating faster; and often, whilst thus conversing with his companions, the monks would approach the little gathering by stealth, to listen to the precocious wisdom of this extraordinary child.

After seven years quiet study, S. Thomas was forced to take refuge with his family from the violence of the imperial soldiers, who had sacked the abbey, and made a prey of all its wealth in plate and gems, the legacies of emperors, kings, and knights. The change to the feudal castle of Loreto must have been a violent one for the young saint. The tramp of armed men, the free carousing, the shouts and songs of mirth, must have been sources of temptation to a boy of twelve, whose life had hitherto been passed in the silence of the cloister, or amid the sacred songs of the monks, but the holy impressions already made on his soul shielded it from corruption.

An anecdote is related of him at this period which shows how full his young heart was of charity. During his sojourn at Loreto, a terrible famine ravaged Southern Italy. The Aquinos were extremely charitable to the poor, and Thomas acted as his father's almoner. But not satisfied with this, he sometimes stole secretly into the kitchen, filled his cloak121 with whatever came to hand, and hurried to the castle gate to divide his spoils amongst the famishing people. Having been reprimanded for doing so, he still persisted; but one day, as he was carrying his cloak full of provisions, he met his father unexpectedly, and was commanded to show what he was hiding with so much care. The child let fall his burden, but in the place of bread, a shower of flowers hid the feet of the boy, and the old man, Landulf, burst into tears, and, embracing his son, bade him follow at liberty the inspirations of his charity.

His parents determined to send S. Thomas to the University of Naples, which was then at the height of its prosperity. Tasti states that he commenced the study of theology under the profound Erasmus, the Benedictine professor of that science in the University. Tocco states, however, that the abbot of Monte Cassino advised his removal from Monte Cassino, and his being placed at the University of Naples, where he studied grammar and logic under Martin, and natural science under Peter de Hibernia.

It was the custom for the students, after the professor had delivered his lecture, to present themselves at a stated time, and deliver what they had heard before their companions in the schools. When it came to S. Thomas's turn, he repeated the lectures with greater depth of thought, and greater lucidity of method, than the learned professor himself was able to command.

A youth, who was a more brilliant expositor of truth than its professors, would surely, during his stay in the gay centre of Southern Italy, have observed with interest the various phases of the period in which he lived; he must have felt, too, that an organized power alone could meet the world. He saw what an immense power monasticism had been in the age which was passing away. But he also perceived that the world had changed. The efforts of the solitaries122 and contemplatives had not been able to direct its course. Citeaux and Clairvaux had done a work indeed, but it was not the work of directing the stream of human thought. They had not perceptibly affected the world. The old methods seemed to have dropped out of use. Discovery, and travel, and enterprise excited the imagination of the men of that age; they loved activity better than meditation. They congregated in towns, and the teaching of the monastery gave way to the excitement and uproar of university life.

What then? Thomas would ask himself, is the instrument, or the organization adapted to oppose the powers of the world?

The Order of S. Francis, and that of S. Dominic, were created by the Church for resisting the mighty pressure. The former, in its characteristics of poverty and love, the latter, in its specialities of eloquence and learning, were designed to manifest the perfection of Christianity in a world full of the pomp of riches and the maddening influences of pantheistic mysticism. These two Orders had chairs at Naples. Probably young Aquino was struck by the devotedness and ability of the Dominican professors. The special scope of the Order, its love for learning, its active ministrations to humanity, while still retaining the self-restraint of solitaries, and the humility of monks, must have struck a new chord, or an old chord in a new fashion, in the heart of the saint. Anyhow, he soon became intimate with the Fathers of the Order, and especially with his dear friend, John à Sancto Facundo.

In the end, S. Thomas, who was then either sixteen or seventeen years old, petitioned for the habit of S. Dominic. The fathers determined to put his perseverance to the proof. They required him to make the demand in public. On the day appointed, from a very early hour, the church was123 flooded by a great crowd, amongst which might be observed persons of the highest distinction in the city. The religious of the house ranged themselves in the choir. Thomas advanced into the midst of these two clouds of witnesses, and received from the Superior, Fra Tomaso d'Agni di Lentino, the badges of penance and subjection. When S. Thomas entered the order, John of Germany was general (1239-1254), and a constellation of famous men shone with a steady light from the Corona Fratrum. In Germany there was Albertus Magnus. Hugh of S. Caro edified all France by his sanctity; and Peter of Verona, and John of Vicenza, were its ornaments in Italy.

It may be imagined that Theodora was not pleased when she heard of the ceremony from the lamentations of some of her vassals, who had seen the young count dressed up as a Dominican friar. She forthwith hastened to Naples with a large retinue. No sooner did the Dominicans learn that she was on her way, than they hurried the boy off,—some say at his own request—with several companions, to Rome, by a different route from that usually followed by travellers.

Theodora speedily followed him to Rome. In vain she tried to obtain a sight of him by entreaties the most imploring, and by threats the most indignant. She then bewailed her hard lot amongst the Roman nobility, and denounced to the pope the rapacity of the friars, who had robbed her of her boy.

The Dominicans, dreading her influence in the city, sent S. Thomas to Paris. Theodora, hearing of his departure, sent off a courier to his two brothers, who were ravaging Lombardy with a band of Frederick's soldiers, beseeching them to secure the fugitive. They set guards to watch the passes through which the Dominicans could escape. As the friars lay resting under a tree, near Acquapendente, they were surrounded by armed men, and Thomas found124 himself a prisoner in the hands of his brothers. The two young soldiers behaved with great brutality to the saint, and forcing him on horseback, they carried him to San Giovanni.

His mother made use of every argument she could invent to turn him from his purpose; she brought into play all the passions of her nature, her tears, her entreaties, her threats, her love; but without effect. Perceiving that he remained unmoveable, she threw him into prison, and set guards to watch outside. His sisters seconded their mother; they alone were allowed to wait on him, and they practised all their arts to turn him from his vocation. But in the end, his calm deportment, his resignation and tenderness, won them over. They put him in a position to communicate with the brethren. The saint procured a Bible, the Book of the "Sentences," and some of the works of Aristotle, and learned them by heart. Thus it was that he prepared himself for his mighty labours in the future.

His brothers persevered in their attempts to force him from religion. They were furious when they found that, far from being changed himself, Thomas had converted both his sisters. They forbade the girls to approach him; and bursting in upon him, insulted him with brutal jests, and ended by tearing his habit, piece by piece, from off his back. Then Brother John of S. Giuliano brought another habit for him from Naples, which he had concealed beneath his own. This made his brothers more enraged than before. They formed the infamous expedient of hiring a prostitute, and shutting her up in the cell with Thomas. While waiting the issue, a fearful shriek proceeding from the prison, summoned the two brothers; they arrived in time to see the girl rushing away in an agony of terror, and the young man chasing her with a blazing brand, which he had plucked out of the fire. Even the brutality of the125 young soldiers was overcome by this; and from that day forth, they ceased their persecutions.

Before his death, the saint told his familiar friend, Rainald, that no sooner had the girl been driven out, than he made a cross with the charred brand upon the wall, and casting himself upon his knees before it, made a vow of chastity for life. Whilst thus praying, he fell into a calm sleep, and was vouchsafed a vision. He saw angels descending from the clouds, who bound his loins with the girdle of continence, and armed him for life as the warrior of Heaven. This girdle is said to have been given after his death to the Dominicans of Vercelli, who refused to part with it at the command of a pope.

Still his relations kept him in confinement, some say for two years, and would have detained him longer, had it not been for the influence of the Dominicans with the pope. The holy father was roused. He not only brought the case before the emperor, but he ordered him to set the prisoner free, and threatened to visit the perpetrators of the outrage with condign punishment. Frederick, having latterly been humiliated by the Viterbesi, and having, in consequence, been abandoned by some of his supporters, was not sorry for an opportunity of gratifying the pontiff. Orders were at once sent to Landolf and Rainald to set the captive free. Still these stubborn soldiers with their haughty mother would take no active steps to give Thomas his liberty. However, his sisters informed John of S. Giuliano of the position of affairs, and he at once hurried to the castle accompanied by one or two companions. And finally, the girls let their brother down, through the window, like another S. Paul, into the hands of his delighted brethren below, who at once hurried him off to Naples.

Tocco says that John of S. Giuliano, others that Tomaso d'Agni di Lentino, was Superior of the Convent, and received126 our saint's profession. Theodora, repenting that she had let him escape, applied to the pope to annul his vows. The holy father sent for S. Thomas, and questioned him in the presence of the court. He, with his natural modesty, and yet with gentle firmness, told the pope how unmistakeable was the voice which had called him to religion, and implored the holy father to protect him. Innocent, and the prelates about him, could not suppress their emotion. The pope acted with great benevolence. Knowing Theodora's weakness, he proposed to make Thomas abbot of Monte Cassino, whilst still allowing him to wear the habit of S. Dominic, and to partake of the privileges of the friars. His mother and his brothers implored Thomas to accept the tempting offering. But he was inexorable. He besought the pope to leave him to abide in his vocation. Thenceforward his mother no longer worried him, and his brothers left him alone to pursue his own course.

From the first, the Dominicans seem to have had a kind of fore-knowledge of the great combat that would have to be waged in the arena of human reason. From the first, with prudence, forethought, and wise economy, they prepared a system for turning the abilities of their members to the fullest account. With them no intellect was lost. Power was recognised, trained, and put in motion. Those who were less gifted, were set to less intellectual employments: those who had great powers were fitted to become lights of the world and ornaments of the Order. With such an intellectual capital as our saint possessed, he might fairly have been set to work in the active ministrations of his Order. But, fortunately, his superiors were men who looked into the future, and knew how a present sacrifice would be repaid. Thus, instead of looking on S. Thomas's education as finished, they considered it as only just begun. Who was to be his master to ripen his active mind?

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This question John of Germany, 4th General of the Dominicans, must have asked himself. At last he set out with S. Thomas on foot, from Rome to Paris, and from Paris to Cologne, where Albertus Magnus then was. It is related that as they descried the beauty of Paris in the distance, the general turned to Thomas and said, "What would you give to be king of that city?" "I would rather have S. Chrysostom's treatise on S. Matthew," replied the young man, "than be king of the whole of France."

S. Thomas met his match in Albertus Magnus. Nothing is a greater blessing for a master-mind than to come in contact with another master-mind, more highly educated, and with a more matured experience than itself. Albert was born of noble family at Lavingen, in Suabia, (1193 A.D.) Some say that, like S. Isidore, he was dull as a boy. At Padua, where he was studying medicine and mathematics, he was drawn by Brother Jordan's eloquence to join the Dominicans. He was sent to Bologna, then the second centre of the intellectual world. Next he began to teach. As a lecturer he was unrivalled: all classes thronged into the hall of this extraordinary man. The logic, ethics, and physics of Aristotle, and portions of Holy Writ, were the subject matter of his lectures. After settling at Cologne, he was summoned to Paris in 1228, to put the studies on a footing to meet the requirements of the age. Then he returned to Cologne. It was at this period that he first met S. Thomas, who became his favourite disciple, and to whom, in private, he opened the stores of his capacious mind.

The companions of S. Thomas in Albert's school, were men filled with the impression that to exert the reasoning faculties in debating scholastic questions, was one of the principal ends of all philosophy. It is not extraordinary that such men as these, when they saw young Aquino so silent, should imagine that nothing occupied his thoughts;128 especially when they perceived that he was equally reserved in school. They soon came to the conclusion that he was a naturally obtuse lad. What is more strange is this,—that Albert at first held him to be deficient. He was called by master and pupils, "the great dumb Sicilian ox." Once, when studying in his cell, he heard a voice crying to him, "Brother Thomas, here! quick, look at this flying ox!" When S. Thomas went to the window, he was received with shouts of derision. In explanation he said incisively: "I did not believe an ox could fly, nor did I, till now, believe that a religious could tell a lie."

A companion one day offered to assist him in his lesson. S. Thomas assented; presently his friend came to a hard passage, which was beyond his depth, the saint took the book from him, and explained the passage with great clearness. Albert had selected a difficult question from the writings of Dionysius the Areopagite; this the scholars passed to S. Thomas; he took it to his cell; and first stating all the objections that could be made against it, he then answered them. A brother picked up this paper, and carried it to Albert. His master ordered him to defend a thesis the next day before the whole school. Thomas spoke with such clearness, established his thesis with such dialectical skill, saw so far into the difficulties of the case, and handled the whole subject in so masterly a manner, that Albert exclaimed, "Thou seemest to me not to be defending the case, but to be deciding it." "Master," he replied, "I know not how to treat the question otherwise." Albert, to test him further, started objections, but Thomas solved every difficulty so successfully, that Albert cried out, "We call this youth 'Dumb Ox,' but the day will come when the whole world will resound with his bellowing."

In 1245, it was determined by the Dominican Chapter129 that Albert should leave Cologne for Paris, and that Thomas should finish his three years under him there.

The one absorbing science of the middle ages was theology. Learning, in all its branches, pointed to the study of religion as the great terminus of the human mind, and the one right road from heaven to earth. The liberal arts were but a careful and laborious preparation for philosophy or logic; logic, in turn, was only valuable inasmuch as it was an instrument for the ordering, defending, and proving the great truths of revelation. The great object of life was to know God. Jacques de Vitry beautifully says, "All science ought to be referred to the knowledge of Christ." It may be laid down roughly that the Scriptures, Peter Lombard's Book of Sentences, and Aristotle, were the three great bases on which the active intellect of the 13th century rested in its development and analysis of truth.

The students of the Paris University may be divided into three classes: those who lived in seminaries, those who lived in monasteries, and those who lived as best they could. Some were destitute, living on charity, or in hospitia; others were rich and lordly, great spendthrifts and swaggerers, studying out of mere curiosity, or pure conceit.

John of S. Alban had founded a hospitium for pilgrims, with a chapel dedicated to S. James; this he handed over to the Dominicans, which gift the University confirmed on condition that mass was said for its living and dead members twice a year. Thus the Dominicans came in contact with the University. From the first they attended the theological schools of the Church of Paris. S. Louis built them a convent, and at his death left them a part of the library he had collected at the Sainte Chapelle. Novices were taught Latin and logic; and disputations echoed in the cloister. Meditation was made to counterbalance the excitement of study.

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The lectures were given in large halls. In the middle stood the chair of the master, with another seat below, and in front of him a stool for the bachelor who was going through his training. If there was not room on the benches, the students sat on the straw which covered the floor. The teaching was principally done by question and answer, by exposition, repetition, and disputation. No book was used, the teacher might have the text before him, and sometimes the students took notes in shorthand, which they wrote out at their leisure.

Nothing has been handed down, of any moment, regarding the studies of S. Thomas at Paris during this period. Albert was at the height of his reputation. His lecture-hall was so crowded, that he was forced to lecture in a square, near Notre Dame, known as the Place Maubert.

The same year in which S. Thomas finished his studies (1248), a general chapter of Dominicans was held at Paris. Here it was ruled that four new schools should be started on the model of that at Paris. Bologna for Lombardy; Montpellier for Provence; Oxford for England; Cologne for Germany. Albert was to take the chair at Cologne, re-arrange the studies, and be regent; whilst Thomas, who was not twenty-three, was to be second professor, and "Magister Studentium." Albert's old reputation attracted crowds. Thomas was not long before he also acquired a brilliant reputation.

His distinctions, even compared with those of Albert, were so new, his arguments so ingenious, that all were dazzled at his great ability. It was at Cologne that he first gave evidence as a teacher, of that depth, balance, and expansion, which, in after life, made him the weightiest of authorities on the most momentous of religious questions. In his treatment of the Scripture and of the Sentences, he had ample opportunity for displaying his many-sided gifts.

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Nor did he confine himself to teaching in the schools. He preached and wrote. His first pieces were "De Ente et Essentia," and "De Principiis Naturæ." These two works contain the germ of a future system, and were remarkable productions for a youth of twenty-two.

The saint's practice in teaching, and the accuracy he acquired by writing, from an early age, were of great assistance to him in developing his powers. He possessed, moreover, a gift—most valuable at all times—calmness and self-possession, which was the result, partly of education, greatly of character; partly of breadth of mind, and chiefly of grace. Under the most trying provocation he was never known to lose his self-control.

His humility and sweetness came out strikingly when arguing in the schools. Though his opponent, in the heat of disputation, might forget himself, Thomas never did.

Once, when a young student arrogantly defended a thesis of which he knew the saint did not approve, he was suffered to proceed in silence. But the next day, when he continued his argument with still greater arrogance, the saint with infinite sweetness, but crushing power, put a few questions, made a few distinctions, and upset the student with such ease, first on one point, then on another, that the whole school was in an uproar of admiration. Both the youth and his fellows were taught a lesson which they did not easily forget. Again, while he was preaching at S. James's, an official of the University walked up the church, and beckoned the saint to stop, and then read out an offensive document, drawn up by the secular party, in opposition to the Friars' Preachers. When the congregation had somewhat recovered from their surprise, S. Thomas proceeded with his sermon with undisturbed composure.

Conrad De Guessia, his intimate friend, declared him to be: "A man of holy life and honest conversation, peaceful,132 sober, humble, quiet, devout, contemplative, and chaste; so mortified that he cared not what he ate or what he put on. Every day he celebrated with great devotion, or heard, one or two masses; and except in times proper for repose, he was occupied in reading, writing, praying or preaching."

"His science, says Rainald, was not acquired by natural talent, but by the revelation and the infusion of the Holy Ghost, for he never set himself to write without having first prayed and wept. When he was in doubt, he had recourse to prayer, and with tears he returned, instructed and enlightened in his uncertainty."

It was about this time that S. Thomas was ordained priest. It is mortifying that no certain information can be procured regarding the time at which it took place. All his biographers lay stress on his great devotion while celebrating. He was frequently rapt in spirit whilst at mass, when the tears would spring to his eyes, and flow copiously. After mass, he prepared his lectures, and then went to the schools. Next, he wrote or dictated to several scribes; then he dined, returned to his cell, and occupied himself with Divine things till time for rest; after which he wrote again, and thus ordered his life in the service of his Master.

The duty of preaching also fell upon him. A man so filled with the Spirit of God would, almost of necessity, manifest the passion which ruled supreme. His reputation even at this period was great enough to draw a large congregation into the Dominican Church.

The language in which at this period sermons were preached was the vernacular. Even when written in Latin, and this was generally the case, they were delivered to the people in the vernacular.

The biographers of S. Thomas speak of the simplicity of his sermons. Once, in a discourse on the Passion, during Lent, he so vividly brought home to the congregation the133 sufferings of the cross, and drew so touching a picture of the compassion, mercy, and love of Christ, that his words were interrupted by the passionate crying of the people. On Easter Day, his sermon on the Resurrection filled the congregation with such jubilant triumph that they could scarcely be restrained from giving public expression to their feelings.

In manner he was gentle, calm, self-possessed. Tocco says that preaching at Naples on the text, "Hail, Mary!" he was seen to keep his eyes closed in the pulpit, and his head in a position as if he were looking into heaven: he tells us also that the people reverenced his word as if it came from the mouth of God.

In the two hundred and twenty-five skeleton sermons which he has left, he divides his subject into three or four grand divisions, which are again sub-divided into three or four sections.

After four years at Cologne our saint received orders to take his degree at Paris, (1248.) The Dominicans wished to place their most promising subjects there, that the Order might maintain its credit. Albert and Cardinal Hugh of S. Charo were instrumental in his removal: the former saw that the saint possessed all the needed qualifications for a professorship; a work requiring something more than learning—tact and temper.

Thomas, when he heard of it, was much concerned. His distaste for honour and position made him wish to be left alone. Nevertheless, in obedience to authority, he set out to beg his way to Paris. He passed through Brabant and Flanders, and preached before the Duchess Margaret. The learned men of Paris had heard of his successes at Cologne, and he was received by them with marks of unusual distinction.

The Dominican professors of theology at this time were Hugh of Metz and Elias Brunetus. It was as teacher in134 the school of Elias that the saint began to expound Holy Writ, and the writings of Peter Lombard. His influence over young men far surpassed that of any other master. They were conscious that his teaching had something about it of another world; and the feeling crept over all, and finally mastered them, that he spoke as one "having authority." The opinions he then formed, he committed to writing, and held them and defended them with little change in his maturer years. From his youth he had dedicated himself to Wisdom as his spouse. Only one thing he asked for—that was wisdom. Rainald said, "One thing I know of him, that it was not human talent, but prayer, which was the secret of his great success. This was his daily prayer: 'Grant me, I beseech Thee, O merciful God, prudently to study, rightly to understand, and perfectly to fulfil that which is pleasing to Thee, to the praise and glory of Thy Name.'" When a child, if conversation did not turn on God, or on matters which tended to edification, the Angelical Doctor would go away; he used to wonder how men, especially religious men, could talk of anything but God or holy things. He wept for the sins of others, as if they had been his own.

Though ever dwelling in the unseen kingdom, he was keenly alive to the tendency of the intellectual world around him. His saintliness, and his great ability, seem to have pointed him out as destined to sway the philosophical and theological tendencies of an age in which the human mind was in a condition of flux. The corroding rationalism of the school of Abelard, and the dissolving mysticism of the East, had to be faced, and to be withstood. Thomas fixed himself, therefore, on the immoveable basis of authority, and grounded his teaching on the monastic methods of the "Sentences." Doubtless the surprise caused by his distinctions, and the admiration created by his novelty in135 argument, proceeded in great measure from his vivid apprehension of the work he had to do, of the enemy he was contending with, and of the powers by which alone that enemy could be overthrown. He followed Albert, but his teaching was more incisive, more definite, more strictly to the point.

Many of his disciples became distinguished men. S. Thomas assisted others beside his own pupils. Sovereigns, cardinals, bishops, superiors of orders, and professors, wrote to him for advice, and for solutions of their difficulties. The Opusculum on the difference between the Divine and human word; and the somewhat larger treatise, on the nature of the intellectual word, are full of close reasoning; and state principles which are fundamental regarding the method of human knowledge.

One of the most important of his treatises is that addressed "ad Fratrem Rainaldum," on the nature of the Angels. It was begun during his bachelorship, but he never got beyond the 30th chapter. It shows his grasp of some of the cardinal questions of the day, and how masterfully he dealt with errors of the most promising minds in the Paris schools.

But whilst thus engaged upon the Scriptures and the Lombard, S. Thomas was frequently in the pulpit, and he regularly delivered lectures to crowded halls. His versatility, his power of abstraction, his astonishing memory, his zealous husbanding of time, carried him with ease through works which would have broken the spirit of any ordinary man. He possessed that marvellous gift which Origen and Cæsar are said to have had, of being able to dictate to three or even four scribes on different and difficult subjects at the same time, and that, too, without losing the thread of each argument.

Frigerius says that, as Professor, he elucidated the Sen136tences with such sublimity of thought that he seemed rather the author of the work than its expositor. Tocco, "that he surpassed all the masters of the University, and by the lucidity of his expositions drew, beyond all others, the intelligences of his disciples towards a love of science." Students from every part of Europe flocked around his chair.

In touching on S. Thomas's commentary on the "Sentences," the influence of Alexander Hales must not be forgotten, but he far eclipsed the Minorite in his proofs of the non-eternity of the world—a question of momentous importance in the Middle Ages, as well as in his discussion of the possibility and fitness of the Incarnation. Thomas carried his teaching on Grace to such perfection that in the Middle Ages it was always received as a standard authority.

If judged by its bulk, this "Commentary" would seem sufficient to have occupied a life. It fills over 1250 pages of the large quarto Parma edition, printed in double columns. It is a monument of ceaseless labour, great skill, and patient thought.

The work of the Lombard is a confusion compared with the lucid style and admirable arrangement of the saint. In place of the crabbed inverted language of Peter, we have the simple, logical, direct use of words, which go straight to the point, and express the complete idea. He has these weighty words on the subject of theology, "Since the end of all philosophy is contained within the end of theology, and is subservient to it, theology ought to command all other sciences, and turn to its use those things which they treat of." He adds, "The more sublime knowledge is, so much greater is its unity, and so much wider the circle of its expansion, whence the Divine intellect, which is the most sublime of all, by the light, which is God Himself, possesses a distinct knowledge of all things." He also137 shows how the intellect becomes illuminated when led by faith, illustrating the motto of the monastic school, "Nisi credideritis, non intelligetis." And he shows that theology is deduction, and philosophy induction; and that the basis of theology must be authority, i.e., a Revelation.

During the Lent of 1250 or 1253, the city patrol came in collision with a party of students, killed one of them, wounded three others, and carried them off to prison. The secular professors of the University refused to lecture, until the beadles were punished, but the Dominican and Franciscan teachers went on with their lectures. When redress had been granted to the University for the outrage, that body drew up an oath to observe all the laws of the University, which it was intended should be taken by all persons before taking the degree as master. The regulars refused to take it; then the University issued a decree, declaring the friars excluded from its body, and deprived of their chairs. The latter appealed to Rome. The pope commissioned the bishop of Evreux, and Luke, canon of Paris, to re-establish the friars in their chairs, which was done. This pope dying, his successor issued a bull, binding all to stop teaching in case of insult, but re-establishing the friars. The king, returning home, stopped the execution of the papal briefs. The pope issued another bull more stringent than the first. Since 1256, S. Thomas had been lecturing as licentiate. At the same time he was enjoying the friendship of S. Bonaventura, who was lecturing under the Franciscan professor. Both men exhibited, in a striking manner, the fundamental quality of the order to which they respectively belonged. Bonaventura loved to look into the placid, earnest soul of Thomas, as into a deep sea, with its marvellous transparency, and awful stillness; whilst Thomas was roused and brightened by the ardent gushing nature of his friend. S. Thomas was angelical; S. Bonaventura was138 seraphic—the one, the deep thinker; the other, the tender poet. Thomas was famous in the schools for the keenness of his thought, and for his depth and clearness; Bonaventura for his eloquence and vivacity in exposition; the former was a child of contemplation, the latter of activity. Once S. Thomas asked S. Bonaventura to show him the books out of which he got his sublime thoughts. "There is the book," replied S. Bonaventura, pointing to the crucifix. During this time S. Thomas wrote his "Exposition on the Apostles' Creed, the Lord's Prayer, the Angelic Salutation, the Ten Commandments, and the Law of Love." Another work on the "Articles of the Faith and the Sacraments" falls within this period, as well as a commentary on Isaiah.

Meanwhile, William of S. Amour, the celebrated philosopher and doctor of the University, was endeavouring to turn the mendicant Orders out of Paris by getting people to withhold their alms, and by forbidding the members of these Orders to attend the secular lectures.

He also endeavoured to fix the authorship of an heretical work, called "The Everlasting Gospel," on the Franciscans and Dominicans.

But he himself had written a book, called "Perils of the last times." This the king sent by two doctors of theology for the pope's examination. The University sent a deputation to make the Holy Father acquainted with "The Everlasting Gospel." William was leader of this deputation. S. Thomas was sent to defend his order; S. Bonaventura that of S. Francis. S. Thomas, after examining the "Perils," reported to the Dominican chapter that "God had given him grace to discover whatever is false, captious, erroneous, impious in it, and that after the holy See had pronounced judgment on it, the faithful would only notice it to condemn it." In a few days the saint prepared his defence of the order, and his answer to the "Perils." He139 pleaded before the pope and sacred college with such success as to gain their applause.

When he had done, the four cardinals gave in their report on the "Perils," which stated that it was full of false doctrine, injurious to the authority of the pope and the bishops, and to the honour of several religious orders approved by the holy See. After examining the report, the pope condemned the "Perils" by a bull, dated October 5th, 1256, and ordered the book to be burnt. The deputation from the University arrived after the work of their leader had been burnt. They endeavoured to obtain a revocation of the condemnation, but, instead, they were compelled to take pen and themselves subscribe it. They swore, moreover, to receive into the body of the University the Dominicans and Franciscans, especially SS. Thomas and Bonaventura. William of S. Amour refused to comply, and being forbidden to enter France, retired to his estate in Burgundy. A few years later he was allowed to return to Paris. He died in 1270. It was partly in reply to William's attack on the religious orders, that S. Thomas wrote his Opusculum, "Against those who attack religion and the worship of God," and that "Against those who hinder men from entering religion," which are the best defence and exaltation of monastic principles ever penned.32

S. Thomas having been recalled by his superiors before the winter of the same year (1256), embarked on board a ship bound for France. The vessel was overtaken by a furious storm; the pilot and sailors tried every artifice to escape the shoals, on which they were being driven by wind and wave. Thomas, like a second S. Paul, preserved his confidence, and prayed God to give him all the souls that140 were with him. His prayer was heard: the aspect of nature changed, and the ship pursued her course in safety.

Several bulls followed the deputies to Paris. The prudence and kindness of S. Louis helped greatly to restore peace between the University and the friars. The University seal was set to the summons addressed to SS. Thomas and Bonaventura to take their doctor's degrees, which had been delayed two years by the troubles. S. Thomas thought many other Dominicans more deserving of the honour than himself. Whilst sadly meditating on this, he thought an old man appeared to him, asking the cause of his sadness. He replied, "It is not right that they should force me to take rank among the doctors, a thing of which I am not capable." The old man said, "The order thou hast received is assurance enough; it destroys thy own will, and points to God's will in that of thy superiors. Take as the text of thy thesis: 'He watereth the hills from above: the earth is filled with the fruit of Thy works. Ps. ciii. 13.'" On the morrow, after a struggle between S. Bonaventura and himself for the last place, Thomas, as being the younger, gained it. He preached from the text given him, and it has been regarded as a prophecy of the influence which the new doctor was to exercise over Christendom. The day on which he took his degree was the 23rd October, 1257.

The epoch on which we have now entered is the most glorious period of our saint's life. The star of his genius mounted, without a cloud to obscure it, in the firmament of the Church. In spite of all the eulogies of his contemporaries, it is difficult for us to comprehend now-a-days the extent of the power which Aquinas exercised over the men and the ideas of his time.

S. Thomas now drew up his famous "Summa contra Gentiles." He begins this treatise by stating that he will discuss all questions on the ground of human reason,141 seeking therein a common ground on which to combat his adversaries, or rather seeking in their natural intelligence a point on which to rest that bridge which might lead them from human reason to the truth of God; then he establishes the necessity of faith; he shows next that reason affords ground for expecting a supernatural revelation; lastly, he cements together reason and faith. Then he makes his general division: he considers God in Himself, in relation to men, and men in relation to God. To these three parts he joins a fourth, viz., revelation properly so-called; therein he expounds the Trinity, the Incarnation, with all the dogmas which attach themselves to it, the whole destiny of man in the plan of Christianity. This we may call the theological evolution of his great work. In that which may be called its philosophical introduction he resolves all such difficult questions; as the falsehood of pantheism, evil and its origin, its nature, and its effects, which he turns into a proof of God's existence in opposition to those unquiet spirits, who saw in it a reason for doubting His existence.

This work was followed immediately by one upon all the Epistles of S. Paul.

The question of the Eucharistic accidents was then much mooted in the schools, especially in those of Paris. The question was, whether those accidents had anything real, or were only an appearance, in other words, whether the form under which Jesus hides Himself in the Eucharist exists in the Sacrament itself, or in a false relation of the senses? Wearied with a struggle to which they could foresee no end, all the doctors determined to refer the question to the decision of S. Thomas, and to accept that decision as conformable to the light of reason and faith. The saint braced himself to the contemplation of this subject, and having prayed, he wrote as the Spirit inspired him. He was loth to take into the presence of the doctors and of the142 schools, the fruit of his science and his prayer, before he had consulted Him of Whom he was speaking, Whose aid he had implored.

He came to the altar, and placing before the tabernacle as before the Master of masters, that which he had written on the subject of the controversy, he raised his hands towards the image of Jesus crucified, and prayed in this fashion: "O Lord Jesu, Who dost verily dwell in this wonderful Sacrament, Whose works are incomprehensible marvels, I humbly beseech Thee, if what I have written about Thee is agreeable to the truth, grant that I may teach it, and persuade my brethren of it on Thy behalf; but if, on the contrary, there be anything in this writing which errs from the Catholic faith, make it impossible for me to bring it before their eyes."

Now the doctor had been followed by his habitual companion and by several other religious of our order, and they saw Jesus Christ standing on the leaves which had been written by the hand of Thomas, and saying to him, "Thou hast written worthily, my son, of the Sacrament of My Body." And the doctor's prayer still continuing, he was seen to raise himself nearly to the height of a cubit in the air.

The author who gives this account says he received it from a religious who was at S. James's with S. Thomas. The members of the University submitted to the decision, though given by a young man of only thirty-two years of age.

Louis IX. had forced our saint to enter his council chamber. Whenever an important affair was coming on for deliberation in the royal council, the king caused brother Thomas to be instructed about it over night, that he might reflect thereon in solitude, and might remember it at the Sacrifice. He was consulted by the king not so much as the man of genius, but as the man of God.

The saint, in spite of his earnest entreaties to be excused,143 was sometimes compelled, both by loyalty and courtesy, to appear at the royal table. For a while he would join in the general conversation, soon to be withdrawn by his inward thoughts. Once, at dinner, after a long silence, he smote the table smartly, exclaiming, "That is an overwhelming argument against the Manichæans." His superior bade him remember that he was in the king's presence. Thomas apologised for his absence of mind. But the king, smiling, requested him to dictate to one of his secretaries the argument which had engrossed his attention, that it might lose none of the force which marks the thoughts of genius at their first conception.

The Dominican Chapter, held at Valenciennes, in 1259, appointed Thomas, Albertus Magnus, and Pierre de Tarentaise as a commission to establish order and uniformity in all schools of the Dominicans.

Alexander IV. died at Viterbo, on May 25th, 1261. Jacques Pantalèon, Latin patriarch of Jerusalem, who was at Viterbo imploring protection for the Christians of the East, was, to his surprise, raised to the pontifical throne, under the title of Urban IV. Wishing to unite into one the divided portions of east and west Christianity, he summoned S. Thomas to Rome to help him in realising his project. It was in the same year that S. Thomas came to Rome in answer to this appeal. His general gave him at once a chair of theology in the Dominican college at Rome, where he obtained the like success that had gained at Cologne and Paris. Here he wrote his literal commentary on Job, and the Catena Aurea. The chain of comments from the fathers is so perfect, the links of gold in it are so well rivetted to one another, that a biographer says that, "He speaks with all, and all speak and explain themselves by him." It was dedicated to the Pope, at whose solicitation it had been undertaken.

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In the midst of the toil these works must have cost him, he did not forget the purpose for which he was summoned. All the time he was thinking out and penning his treatise, "Contra errores Græcorum." In his hands, and by the force of his irresistible logic, he showed that the ancient Greek fathers unanimously agreed with those of the Latin Church.33

This work was sent by the pope at once to Michael, emperor of Constantinople, as a message of peace. He had just returned to his capital, which Latin princes had held for more than half a century. The object of all his efforts was to reconstitute the power of the empire. To this task he brought an energy, a perseverance, and talents hitherto unknown among the sovereigns of that nation. He turned his eyes for help towards the pope; but it was the politician, rather than the Christian, that solicited the re-establishment of Catholic unity.

S. Thomas, at the request of an Eastern prince, wrote a treatise in refutation of the errors that were rife in that part of the world. Nothing could be more modest than the way in which he stated his purpose, nothing more grand than the way in which he worked it out.

Urban wished to reward his distinguished services. The great wealth he offered, the saint directed should be given to the poor. He declined the offer of the patriarchate of Jerusalem, and, shortly after, the honour of a cardinal's hat, for Thomas had thoroughly realized both the mysterious treasures of voluntary poverty and the hidden force of evangelical humility.

The pope, finding he could not attach our saint to his145 court by the ties of honours or riches, bade him lecture at the various places where he took up his abode, Viterbo, Orvieto, Perugia, Fondi. Everywhere a prodigious number of pupils pressed around his chair. The churches were too small to receive the numbers who flocked to hear him. Historians only record one course of Lent sermons preached by him in Rome.

One Christmas-eve he held a disputation with two Jewish Rabbis at the villa of a cardinal. After asking them to return in the morning, he passed the whole night in meditation and prayer. The Rabbis returned in the morning, but it was to ask for baptism.

In 1263, Thomas was sent to the Dominican general chapter, held in London, as "definitor," in the name of the Roman province.

Soon after his return to Italy, S. Thomas proposed to Urban the institution of a special festival throughout the Catholic Church in honour of the Holy Sacrament. When Urban was archdeacon of Liége, in the convent of Mont Cornillon, near one of the gates of the city, a poor religious named Juliana (April 3rd), as she prayed had a vision of the moon shining in all its splendour, but disfigured by one little breach. She desired to know its meaning, and an inner voice told her it was the Church, and that the breach represented the defect of a festival in honour of the Blessed Sacrament. After a time, an office in honour of the Blessed Sacrament was drawn up by a young religious. Robert de Torote, bishop of Liége, in 1246, appointed Thursday, in the octave of Trinity, for this feast.

Henry of Gueldres succeeded him as bishop, and treated the revelations of Juliana as folly. She died on 5th April, 1258, and left as a legacy to her friend Eve the duty of reviving this festival. Eve was a recluse built up in a niche of a wall near the church of S. Martin, at Liége,146 and through the hole by which she received light, air, and alms, besought the canons as they passed to seek out the bishop and entreat him to write to the pope on the subject of the proposed festival. The bishop did not disdain this humble prayer, but transmitted her message to the pope, who received at the same time the petition of the first doctor in the Church to the same effect. He wrote a letter to the poor recluse of S. Martin, in 1264, telling her of the issuing of a bull in answer to her prayer, and transmitting a copy of the office which the Angelical doctor had drawn up.

Clement IV. succeeded Urban on the 22nd of February, 1265. Shortly after his elevation he issued a bull appointing S. Thomas archbishop of Naples, and conferring on him the revenues of the convent of S. Peter ad Aram. But the pope was induced to recall it by the prayers and tears of our saint.

In this year we must place the first commencement of the "Summa Theologiæ." This was the greatest monument produced by that age.

Disgusted, as S. Thomas says in his preface, at the exuberance, the disorder, the obscurity of the scholastic treatises then extant, he had conceived the plan of a methodical and luminous summary, which should contain the whole of Christianity from the existence of God to the least precept of morality, all the speculative and practical points of revealed truth following in natural and logical order.

The saying current at the time, that "some proposition was true according to the master, Aristotle, but false according to the Gospel," clearly shows the antagonistic attitude occupied by the two powers in the opinion of the schools.

The "Summa Theologiæ" is divided into three great but unequal parts; for the second, much larger than the other two, is divided into two distinct sections.

The first part is a complete treatise on all existences, and147 especially on all intellectual existences, from that intelligence which is infinite in its nature as in its operations, to the intelligence which is bounded and severed by matter. It treats of God, of the Holy Angels, their qualities, and their abode, and of the Creation.

The first section of the second part contains a theory of man. It treats of happiness, as man's final object, of the passions, and of human acts, of the virtues in general, of sins, in their origin, nature, and effects.

The second section is closely allied to the first. It treats of the conditions of happiness and the moral laws, the three great virtues, Faith, Hope, and Charity. The impulse given to the soul by these three theological virtues communicates itself to the moral virtues as well; in treating of them afresh S. Thomas forms a universal theory of human duty.

The third part expounds the whole plan of Redemption. After having studied the work of Redemption in itself, S. Thomas studies it in its application to each individual. Thus he arrives at the theory of the Sacraments. But death did not give him time to finish this part of the work. It is interrupted where he treats on the fourth Sacrament, that of penance. An attempt has been made to complete it by various extracts from his other works, but one misses in this compilation the living hand of genius.

Before quitting this great subject, one word must be added on S. Thomas's method. It may be defined as geometry applied to theology. S. Thomas states, first of all, the theorem he is about to develop, or the problem which he proposes to solve. Then he considers the difficulties and solves them. He follows this up with a train of sustentations drawn from holy writ, tradition, and theological reason, and he ends by a categorical answer to all the objections which were made at the beginning. This order is invariably observed in every part of the work.

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At the Council of Trent, on a table set in the midst of the council chamber, was placed the "Summa," alongside of the Holy Scriptures and the decrees of the popes. Well might Dante declare that the doctor inhabits a sphere above the reach of praise, or, with Lacordaire, exclaim, that "God alone can praise this great man in the eternal council of the Saints."

The "Summa Theologiæ" occupied the last nine years of our saint's life. The world was ignorant of the monument which was being raised in silence. Thomas preached, lectured, wrote as before.

About this time William of S. Amour republished his attack upon the religious orders, under the fresh title of "Collectiones S. Scripturæ;" our saint replied to it by issuing a fresh edition of his defence of the religious orders, and this silenced his foe.

During these nine years, Thomas visited several towns and convents of Italy. At Milan he wrote an epitaph on S. Peter Martyr. At Bologna he lectured with his usual success on theology.

In 1267, he published at Bologna a work on the duties of kings, but his task was interrupted in the same year by the death of his royal pupil, Hugo II., king of Cyprus.

Jean de Verceil had just sent to Thomas a famous tract in which the efficaciousness of the sacrament of penance was denied. He refuted it in a treatise called "De forma Absolutionis," with so much force and clearness that the Council of Trent adopted his very words in framing their canon.

About this time he was one day walking in the cloister of the convent at Bologna, plunged in deep meditation, when a lay brother, who did not know him, came up to him and said that he was obliged to go out on some matters of business, and that the superior had given him leave to take149 with him the first religious he met. S. Thomas, without excusing himself on the score of lameness from which he was then suffering, or of more serious engagements, went cheerfully with the lay brother; but the latter walked so fast, that Thomas was often left behind. But he was soon recognised, and the escort of citizens who respectfully followed the saint, opened the eyes of the lay brother. When they returned to the convent, the lay brother threw himself at the feet of Thomas and begged his pardon. Thomas raised him from the ground, saying, "It is not your duty, but mine to make an apology; for I ought to have remembered that my sore leg would not let me walk as fast as you wanted."

In 1269, Thomas was summoned to Paris, as "definitor" of the Roman province, to attend the general chapter of his order. S. Thomas prolonged his last sojourn in Paris for a year after the departure of S. Louis on his ill-fated crusade, in 1270, and during the whole time he continued to lecture, and to write his Summa.

S. Thomas was recalled to Bologna by his superiors early in 1271. Shortly after his return thither, he brought the second part of his Summa to a conclusion.

At the beginning of the year 1272, the chapter general of the order received requests from nearly all the universities of Europe that S. Thomas might lecture in them. The decision was in favour of Naples, for which he started at once. He visited Rome on his way, and there he began the last part of the Summa, and wrote his commentaries on several books of Boetius. Whilst he was explaining that book which treats of the Trinity, the candle which he held to light him, burnt down between his fingers, and scorched them severely, before his attention was aroused from his work.

After leaving Rome, Thomas and his inseparable friend Rainald were entertained at the villa of Cardinal Richard,150 where the two Rabbis were converted. Here Thomas fell ill, but the attack was slight, and quickly passed away.

In spite of all the precautions of Christian humility, his entry into Naples was a triumph. All classes, the lettered and the unlettered, the great and the small, hurried to welcome him. An excited yet respectful crowd accompanied him as far as the gates of that Dominican convent, where he had embraced religion. What would Theodora have said if she had seen her son entering in triumph that same house which she had regarded as the tomb of his glory?

The king, Charles I., assigned him a monthly pension, rather as a token of his royal favour, than as a reward for his services. The pilgrim who visits the Dominican convent at Naples, sees at the entrance of the great hall a representation of S. Thomas, and beneath it an inscription, "Before thou enterest, venerate this image and this chair, from which Thomas Aquinas uttered his oracles to a large number of disciples for the glory and felicity of his age."

The cardinal-legate of the holy see, wished to have an interview with our saint, and invited the archbishop of Capua, an old pupil of S. Thomas, to accompany him. The saint on being told of their arrival, went down into the cloister, but happening to be absorbed in thought, he forgot the object for which he had been summoned, and gravely continued his walk without taking any notice of them. The cardinal was offended, but the archbishop explained the cause of the saint's apparent rudeness. When Thomas woke from his reverie, he apologised, laying the blame on his feebleness of mind, which had not allowed him to find the solution of a theological difficulty without trouble and delay. The cardinal-legate withdrew, not knowing which to admire most, the learning, or the humility, of the doctor.

During the short space of a year and a half S. Thomas composed the 549 articles, which are all that we have of151 the last part of his Summa. Some commentaries on divers passages of Holy Writ came from his pen at the same time. The fleeting elements of this world faded gradually from his thoughts; his eye was fixed on other horizons.

The transports which he had always experienced in prayer, became daily more frequent.

Yielding to the entreaties of his friends, to the vow of obedience which he had taken, contrary to the inclination to which his natural humility led him, he revealed some of the supernatural favours which Heaven had vouchsafed to him.

Whilst praying in the church at Naples one day, we are told that Romanus, whom he had left in Paris as master of theology, stood before him. S. Thomas approached his friend and said, "Welcome here, when didst thou come?" "I have passed from this life," replied the figure, "and am permitted to appear on thine account." The Angelical exclaimed, "I adjure thee then to answer me these questions. How do I stand? Are my works pleasing to God?" "Thou art in a good state, and thy works do please God," was the reply. "Then what about thyself?" enquired the Angelical. "I am now in Eternal Bliss, but I have been in Purgatory." "Tell me," continued Thomas, "whether the habits which are acquired in this life remain to us in heaven?" "Brother Thomas," was the reply, "I see God, and do not ask for more." "How dost thou see God," rejoined the saint, "dost thou see Him immediately, or by means of some similitude?" The other answered, "Like as we have heard, so have we seen in the city of the Lord of Hosts," Ps. xlvii. 9, (xlviii. 8,) and then instantly vanished.

While Thomas was writing his articles on the fourth Sacrament, he was praying one day in a chapel dedicated to S. Nicolas, when, as the story goes, the figure on the crucifix turned towards him and said, "Thomas, Thou hast written152 well of Me; what reward desirest thou?" "Nought, save Thyself, Lord," was the saint's spontaneous reply.

At length he became so absorbed in Divine things, that even the "Summa" itself failed to interest him. He ceased to write, after a marvellous rapture which seized him whilst celebrating mass in the chapel of S. Nicolas. After this mass, he did not sit down to his desk, nor would he consent to dictate anything. When Rainald urged him to finish the "Summa," he replied, "I cannot, for everything that I have written appears to me worthless compared with what I have seen, and what has been revealed to me."

Gregory X. wishing to carry out the union of the Greek and Latin churches, summoned S. Thomas, by special bull, to the Second Council of Lyons, and requested him to bring his famous treatise with him.

Our saint set out with Rainald for Lyons, towards the end of January, 1274. His health was feeble, and his mind was still fixed on the visions of another world. They travelled by way of the Campagna, and called at the castle of Maienza, in the diocese of Terracina, where Frances, wife of Hannibal Ceccano, niece of the Angelic Doctor, resided. Here the saint became much weaker, and did not rally. He wholly lost his appetite. After a while he felt himself a little stronger. The rumour of his proximity reached the Benedictine Abbey of Fossa Nuova, six miles from the castle. The monks came to invite him thither, and he gladly accepted the invitation, saying, "If the Lord means to take me away, it were better that I should die in a religious house, than in the midst of seculars."

He rode in their midst to the abbey; the monks helped him to dismount, and sustained him to the Church, where he knelt in silent adoration. Then rising, the abbot conducted him through the church into the cloister. Then the whole past seemed to break in upon him like a burst of153 overpowering sunlight; the calm abbey, the meditative corridor, the gentle Benedictine monks, recalled to him Monte Cassino, as in his boyish days. Completely overcome by the memories of the past, he turned to the monks accompanying him, and exclaimed, "This is the place where I shall find repose;" and to Rainald he said, "This shall be my rest for ever and ever: here will I dwell, for I have a delight therein." (Ps. cxxxi. 14, A.V., cxxxii. 15.)

His fever increasing, he was conducted to the abbot's cell, which out of respect had been prepared for him. Here, during the whole of his illness, which lasted about a month, the community watched over him with the tenderness and reverence of sons towards a father. They excluded all servants from waiting on him; even the wood to make his fire was cut down in the forest by the hands of the brethren, and borne on their willing shoulders to his hearth. They were overjoyed to receive him into their home, and to minister to him of their choicest and best. He, patient as a child, knew that he was amongst his own, and yearned continually for his release, repeating continually the words of S. Augustine: "So long as in me there is ought which is not wholly Thine, O God, suffering and sorrow will be my lot. But when I shall be Thine alone, then shall I be filled with Thee, and wholly set at liberty."

Knowing how illumined this man of God was, concerning the union of the soul with its Beloved, the monks, notwithstanding his feeble condition, could not refrain from asking him to expound to them the Canticle of canticles. Ever since his great vision, the saint had put aside his pen. Still the monks implored him, reminding how blessed Bernard had done the like. The Angelical Doctor looked at them with unutterable gentleness, and said, "Get me Bernard's spirit, and I will do your bidding." Finally he yielded to154 them, and surrounding the bed on which he lay, they heard from the lips of the dying theologian, his last lecture and sermon.

Growing still weaker, S. Thomas foresaw that his hour was drawing nigh. He sent for Rainald, and with deep contrition and many sighs made a general confession. Having done this, he begged the brethren to bring him the Body of our Lord—that Lord, who from his infancy, had been the mainstay of his life, and the one desire of his heart. The abbot, accompanied by his community, came solemnly bearing the Blessed Sacrament. Immediately the great Angelical perceived his Master's presence, with the help of the brethren, he rose from the pallet, and kneeling upon the floor, adored his King and Saviour; and amidst the sobs of the monks, he made his act of faith in the Real Presence of his Lord. When he had made an end, and the abbot was on the point of administering the Saving Host to him, he exclaimed, in the hearing of all the monks: "I receive Thee, the price of my soul's redemption, for love of Whom I have studied, watched, and laboured. Thee have I preached, Thee have I taught, against Thee never have I breathed a word, neither am I wedded to my own opinion. If I have held ought which is untrue regarding this blessed Sacrament, I subject it to the judgment of the Holy Roman Church, in whose obedience I now pass out of life." Then, as the abbot lifted up the spotless Host to administer to him, with a torrent of tears he uttered his favourite ejaculation: "Thou, O Christ, art the King of Glory: Thou art the everlasting Son of the Father!" and received upon his tongue the Bread of Heaven. As the end was approaching, the abbot with the brethren watched about his bed; and those senses, which had served their Master with such generous loyalty, were one by one anointed with sacred unction by loving Benedictine hands155 at his request, whilst he, quite conscious of what was going on, answered "Amen" to the prayers of the minister of God.

The brethren, with untold tenderness and reverence, followed his countenance with their eyes, and watched life gradually ebbing away.

He was taken from exile in the early morning of the 7th of March, 1274, in the prime of manhood, being scarcely forty-eight years of age.

The religious of Fossa Nuova committed all that was mortal of S. Thomas to its resting place with the honour due to the remains of such a saint, and such a genius. The whole country side followed him mourning. The superior of the convent, a blind old man, was led to the side of the corpse to pay it a last tribute of respect. Seized with a sudden impulse of faith, he placed his sightless eyes to those of our saint, and the blind eyes of the dead restored the vision of the living monk. Rainald with tears, and choked with emotion, pronounced a funeral elegy over his master and friend, before he was laid at rest in the convent church. Many other miracles were wrought by his body.

On Sunday, Jan. 28th, 1369, his relics were deposited with great pomp at Toulouse, where they still repose in the Church of S. Sernan. The king, Charles V., wished his arm to be brought to Paris, and he received it on his knees in the chapel royal, which he had built for it at S. James's convent. This relic was at the French Revolution taken to Italy.

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