Читать книгу The Lives of the Saints, Volume III (of 16): March - Baring-Gould Sabine, Baring-Gould Sabine - Страница 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 been 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, 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.

"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. 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 impossible 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, '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, "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 she 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, 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 in 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 till 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.

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, thinking 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?"

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 parliamentary 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 Belcastro, 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, but 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 his 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 cloak 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 solitaries 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 was 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 found 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 the 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 received 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?

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; 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."