THE counts of Aquino, who have flourished in the kingdom of Naples these
last ten centuries, derive their pedigree from a certain Lombard prince.
They were allied to the kings of Sicily and Aragon, to St. Lewis of
France, and many other sovereign houses of Europe. Our saint's
grandfather having married the sister of the emperor Frederick I., he
was himself grand nephew to that prince, and second cousin to the
emperor Henry VI., and in the third degree to Frederick II.[1] His
father, Landulph, was count of Aquino, and lord of Loretto and
Belcastro: his mother Theodora was daughter to the count of Theate. The
saint was born towards the end of the year 1226. St. Austin observes,[2]
that the most tender age is subject to various passions, {524} as of
impatience, choler, jealousy, spite, and the like, which appear to
children: no such thing was seen in Thomas. The serenity of his
countenance, the constant evenness of his temper, his modesty and
sweetness, were sensible marks that God prevented him with his early
graces. The count of Aquino conducted him to the abbey of Mount Cassino,
when he was but five years old, to be instructed by those good monks in
the first principles of religion and learning; and his tutors soon saw
with joy the rapidity of his progress, his great talents, and his happy
dispositions to virtue. He was but ten years of age when the abbot told
his father that it was time to send him to some university. The count,
before he sent him to Naples, took him for some months to see his mother
at his seat at Loretto, the place which, about the end of that century,
grew famous for devotion to our Lady. Thomas was the admiration of the
whole family. Amidst so much company, and so many servants, he appeared
always as much recollected, and occupied on God, as he had been in the
monastery; he spoke little, and always to the purpose: and he employed
all his time in prayer, or serious and profitable exercises. His great
delight seemed to be to intercede for, and to distribute, his parents'
plentiful alms among the poor at the gate, whom he studied by a hundred
ingenious contrivances to relieve. He robbed himself of his own victuals
for that purpose; which his father having discovered, he gave him leave
to distribute things at discretion, which liberty he made good use of
for the little time he stayed. The countess, apprehensive of the dangers
her son's innocence might be exposed to in an academy, desired that he
should perform his studies with a private preceptor under her own eyes;
but the father, knowing the great advantages of emulation and mutual
communication in studies, was determined to send him to Naples, where
the emperor Frederick II., being exasperated against Bologna, had
lately, in 1224, erected a university, forbidding students to resort to
any other in Italy. This immediately drew thither great numbers of
students, and with them disorder and licentiousness, like that described
by St. Austin in the great schools of Carthage.[3] Thomas soon perceived
the dangers, and regretted the sanctuary of Mount Cassino: but by his
extraordinary watchfulness, he lived here like the young Daniel in the
midst of Babylon; or Toby in the infidel Ninive. He guarded his eyes
with an extreme caution, shunned entirely all conversation with any
woman whatever, and with any young men whose steady virtue did not
render him perfectly secure as to their behavior. While others went to
profane diversions, he retired into some church or into his closet,
making prayer and study his only pleasure. He learned rhetoric under
Peter Martin and philosophy under Peter of Hibernia, one of the most
learned men of his age, and with such wonderful progress, that he
repeated the lessons more clearly than the master had explained them yet
his greater care was to advance daily in the science of the saints, by
holy prayer, and all good works. His humility concealed them; but his
charity and fervor sometimes betrayed his modesty, and discovered them,
especially in his great alms, for which ne deprived himself of almost
all things, and in which he was careful to hide from his left-hand what
his right did.
The Order of St. Dominick, who had been dead twenty-two years, then
abounded with men full of the spirit of God. The frequent conversations
Thomas had with one of that body, a very interior holy man, filled his
heart with heavenly devotion and comfort, and inflamed him daily with a
more ardent love of God, which so burned in his breast that at his
prayers his countenance seemed one day, as it were, to dart rays of
light, and he conceived {525} a vehement desire to consecrate himself
wholly to God in that Order. His tutor perceived his inclinations and
informed the count of the matter who omitted neither threats nor
promises to defeat such a design. But the saint, not listening to flesh
and blood in the call of heaven, demanded with earnestness to be
admitted into the Order, and accordingly received the habit in the
convent of Naples, in 1243, being then seventeen years old. The countess
Theodora his mother, being informed of it, set out for Naples to
disengage him, if possible, from that state of life. Her son, on the
first news of her journey, begged his superiors to remove him, as they
did first to the convent of St. Sabina in Rome, and soon after to Paris,
out of the reach of his relations. Two of his brothers, Landulph and
Reynold, commanders in the emperor's army in Tuscany, by her direction
so well guarded all the roads that he fell into their hands, near
Acqua-pendente{?}. They endeavored to pull off his habit, but he
resisted them so violently that they conducted him in it to the seat of
his parents, called Rocca-Secca. The mother, overjoyed at their success,
made no doubt of overcoming her son's resolution. She endeavored to
persuade him that to embrace such an Order, against his parents' advice,
could not be the call of heaven; adding all manner of reasons, fond
caresses, entreaties, and tears. Nature made her eloquent and pathetic.
He appeared sensible of her affliction, but his constancy was not to be
shaken. His answers were modest and respectful, but firm, in showing his
resolution to be the call of God, and ought consequently to take place
of all other views whatsoever, even for his service any other way. At
last, offended at his unexpected resistance, she expressed her
displeasure in very choleric words, and ordered him to be more closely
confined and guarded, and that no one should see him but his two
sisters. The reiterated solicitations of the young ladies were a long
and violent assault. They omitted nothing that flesh and blood could
inspire on such an occasion, and represented to him the danger of
causing the death of his mother by grief. He on the contrary spoke to
them in so moving a manner, on the contempt of the world, and the love
of virtue, that they both yielded to the force of his reasons for his
quitting the world, and, by his persuasion, devoted themselves to a
sincere practice of piety.
This solitude furnished him with the most happy opportunity for holy
contemplation and assiduous prayer. Some time after, his sisters
conveyed to him some books, viz., a Bible, Aristotle's logics, and the
works of the Master of the Sentences. During this interval his two
brothers, Landulph and Reynold, returning home from the army, found
their mother in the greatest affliction, and the young novice triumphant
in his resolution. They would needs undertake to overcome him, and began
their assault by shutting him up in a tower of the castle. They tore in
pieces his habit on his back, and after bitter reproaches and dreadful
threats they left him, hoping his confinement, and the mortifications
every one strove to give him, would shake his resolution. This not
succeeding, the devil suggested to these two young officers a new
artifice for diverting him from pursuing his vocation. They secretly
introduced one of the most beautiful and most insinuating young
strumpets of the country into his chamber, promising her a considerable
reward in case she could draw him into sin. She employed all the arms of
Satan to succeed in so detestable a design. The saint, alarmed and
affrighted at the danger, profoundly humbled himself, and cried out to
God most earnestly for his protection; then snatching up a firebrand
struck her with it, and drove her out of his chamber. After this
victory, not moved with pride, but blushing with confusion for having
been so basely assaulted, he fell on his knees and thanked God for his
merciful preservation, consecrated to him anew his chastity, and
redoubled his prayers, and the earnest cry of his {526} heart with sighs
and tears, to obtain the grace of being always faithful to his promises.
Then falling into a slumber, as the most ancient historians of his life
relate,[4] he was visited by two angels, who seemed to gird him round
the waist with a cord so tight that it awaked him, and made him to cry
out. His guards ran in, but he kept his secret to himself. It was only a
little before his death that he disclosed this incident to F. Reynold,
his confessor, adding that he had received this favor about thirty years
before, from which time he had never been annoyed with temptations of
the flesh; yet he constantly used the utmost caution and watchfulness
against that enemy, and he would otherwise have deserved to forfeit that
grace. One heroic victory sometimes obtains of God a recompense and
triumph of this kind. Our saint having suffered in silence this
imprisonment and persecution upwards of a twelvemonth, some say two
years, at length, on the remonstrances of Pope Innocent IV. and the
emperor Frederick, on account of so many acts of violence in his regard,
both the countess and his brothers began to relent. The Dominicans of
Naples being informed of this, and that his mother was disposed to
connive at measures that might be taken to procure his escape, they
hastened in disguise to Rocca-Secca, where his sister, knowing that the
countess no longer opposed his escape, contrived his being let down out
of his tower in a basket. He was received by his brethren in their arms,
and carried with joy to Naples. The year following he there made his
profession, looking on that day as the happiest of his whole life in
which he made a sacrifice of his liberty that he might belong to God
alone. But his mother and brothers renewed their complaints to Pope
Innocent IV., who sent for Thomas to Rome, and examined him on the
subject of his vocation to the state of religion, in their presence; and
having received entire satisfaction on this head, the pope admired his
virtue, and approved of his choice of that state of life, which from
that time he was suffered to pursue in peace. Albertus Magnus teaching
then at Cologne, the general, John the Teutonic, took the saint with him
from Rome to Paris, and thence to Cologne. Thomas gave all his time,
which was not employed in devotion and other duties, to his studies,
retrenching part of that which was allowed for his meals and sleep, not
out of a vain passion, or the desire of applause, but for the
advancement of God's honor and the interests of religion, according to
what he himself teaches.[5] His humility made him conceal his progress
and deep penetration, insomuch that his schoolfellows thought he learned
nothing, and on account of his silence, called him The dumb Ox, and the
Great Sicilian Ox. One of them even offered to explain his lessons to
him, whom he thankfully listened to without speaking, though he was then
capable of teaching him. They who know how much scholars and masters
usually seek to distinguish themselves, and display their science, will
give to so uncommon an humility its due praise. But the brightness of
his genius, his quick and deep penetration and learning were at last
discovered, in spite of all his endeavors to conceal them: for his
master Albertus, having propounded to him several questions on the most
knotty and obscure points, his answers, which the duty of obedience
extorted, astonished the audience; and Albertus, not able to contain his
joy and admiration, said, "We call him the dumb ox, but he will give
such a bellow in learning as will be heard all over the world." This
applause made no impression on the humble saint. He continued the same
in simplicity, modesty, silence, and recollection, because his heart was
the same; equally insensible to praises and humiliations, full of
nothing but of God and his own insufficiency, never reflecting on his
own qualifications, or on what was the opinion of others concerning him.
In his first year, {527} under Albertus Magnus, he wrote comments on
Aristotle's Ethics. The general chapter of the Dominicans, held at
Cologne in 1245, deputed Albertus to teach at Paris, in their college of
St. James, which the university had given them; and it is from that
college they are called in France Jacobins. St. Thomas was sent with him
to continue his studies there. His school exercises did not interrupt
his prayer. By an habitual sense of the divine presence, and devout
aspirations, he kept his heart continually raised to God; and in
difficult points redoubled with more earnestness his fervor in his
prayers than his application to study. This he found attended with such
success, that he often said that he had learned less by books than
before his crucifix, or at the foot of the altar. His constant attention
to God always filled his soul with joy, which appeared in his very
countenance, and made his conversation altogether heavenly. His humility
and obedience were most remarkable in all things. One day while he read
at table, the corrector, by mistake, bid him read a word with a false
quantity, and he readily obeyed, though he knew the error. When others
told him he ought notwithstanding to have given it the right
pronunciation, his answer was, "It matters not how a word is pronounced,
but to practise on all occasions humility and obedience is of the
greatest importance." He was so perfectly mortified, and dead to his
senses, that he ate without reflecting either on the kind or quality of
his food, so that after meals he often knew not what he had been eating.
In the year 1248, being twenty-two years of age, he was appointed by the
general chapter to teach at Cologne, together with his old master
Albertus, whose high reputation he equalled in his very first lessons.
He then also began to publish his first works, which consist of comments
on the Ethics, and other philosophical works of Aristotle. No one was
more courteous and affable, but it was his principle to shun all
unnecessary visits. To prepare himself for holy orders he redoubled his
watchings, prayer, and other spiritual exercises. His devotion to the
blessed Sacrament was extraordinary. He spent several hours of the day
and part of the night before the altar, humbling himself in acts of
profound adoration, and melting with love in contemplation of the
immense charity of that Man-God, whom he there adored. In saying mass he
seemed to be in raptures, and often quite dissolved in tears; a glowing
frequently appeared in his eyes and countenance which showed the ardor
with which his heart burned within him. His devotion was most frequent
during the precious moments after he had received the divine mysteries;
and after saying mass he usually served at another, or at least heard
one. This fire and zeal appeared also in his sermons at Cologne, Paris,
Rome, and in other cities of Italy. He was everywhere heard as an angel;
even the Jews ran of their own accord to hear him, and many of them were
converted. His zeal made him solicitous, in the first place, for the
salvation of his relations. His example and exhortations induced them to
an heroic practice of piety. His eldest sister consecrated herself to
God in St. Mary's, at Capua, and died abbess of that monastery: the
younger, Theodora, married the count of Marsico, and lived and died in
great virtue; as did his mother. His two brothers, Landulph and Reynold,
became sincere penitents; and having some time after left the emperor's
service, he, in revenge, burnt Aquino, their seat, in 1250, and put
Reynold to death; the rest were obliged to save themselves by a
voluntary banishment, but were restored in 1268. St. Thomas, after
teaching four years at Cologne, was sent, in 1252, to Paris. His
reputation for perspicuity and solidity drew immediately to his school a
great number of auditors.[6] St. Thomas, with great reluctancy,
compelled by holy obedience {528} consented to be admitted doctor, on
the 23d of October, in 1257, being then thirty-one years old. The
professors of the university of Paris being divided about the question
of the accidents remaining really, or only in appearance, in the blessed
sacrament of the altar, they agreed, in 1258, to consult our saint. The
young doctor, not puffed up by such an honor, applied himself first to
God by prayer, then he wrote upon that question the treatise still
extant, and, carrying it to the church, laid it on the altar. The most
ancient author of his life assures us, that while the saint remained in
prayer on that occasion, some of the brethren who were present, saw him
raised a little above the ground.[7]
The holy king, St. Louis, had so great an esteem for St. Thomas, that he
consulted him in affairs of state, and ordinarily informed him, the
evening before, of any affair of importance that was to be treated of in
council, that he might be the more ready to give advice on the point.
The saint avoided the honor of dining with the king as often as be could
excuse himself: and, when obliged to assist at court, appeared there as
recollected as in his convent. One day at the king's table, the saint
cried out: "The argument is conclusive against the Manichees."[8] His
prior, being with him, bade him remember where he was. The saint would
have asked the king's pardon, but that good prince, fearing he should
forget the argument that had occurred to his mind, caused his secretary
to write it down for him. In the year 1259 St. Thomas assisted at the
thirty-sixth general chapter of his order, held at Valenciennes, which
deputed him, in conjunction with Albertus Magnus and three others, to
draw up rules for studies, which are still extant in the acts of that
chapter. Returning to Paris, he there continued his lectures. Nothing
was more remarkable than his meekness on all occasions. His temper was
never ruffled in the heat of any dispute, nor by any insult. It was
owing to this sweetness, more than to his invincible force of reasoning,
that he brought a young doctor to retract on the spot a dangerous
opinion, which he was maintaining a second time in his thesis. In 1261,
Urban IV. called St. Thomas to Rome, and, by his order, the general
appointed him to teach here. His holiness pressed him with great
importunity to accept of some ecclesiastical dignity,{529} but he knew
how much safer it is to refuse than to accept a bishopric. The pope,
however, obliged him always to attend his person. Thus it happened that
the saint taught and preached in all the towns where that pope ever
resided, as in Rome, Viterbo, Orvieto, Fondi, and Perugia. He also
taught at Bologna, Naples, &c.[9]
The fruits of his preaching were no less wonderful than those of his
pen. While he was preaching, on Good Friday, on the love of God for man,
and our ingratitude to him, his whole auditory melted into tears to such
a degree that he was obliged to stop several times, that they might
recover themselves. His discourse on the following Sunday, concerning
the glory of Christ, and the happiness of those who rise with him by
grace, was no less pathetic and affecting. William of Tocco adds, that
as the saint was coming out of St. Peter's church the same day, a woman
was cured of the bloody flux by touching the hem of his garment. The
conversion of two considerable Rabbins seemed still a greater miracle.
St. Thomas had held a long conference with them at a casual meeting in
cardinal Richard's villa, and they agreed to resume it the next day. The
saint spent the foregoing night in prayer, at the foot of the altar. The
next morning these two most obstinate Jews came to him of their own
accord, not to dispute, but to embrace the faith, and were followed by
many others. In the year 1263, the Dominicans held their fortieth
general chapter in London; St. Thomas assisted at it, and obtained soon
after to be dismissed from teaching. He rejoiced to see himself reduced
to the state of a private religious man. Pope Clement IV. had {530} such
a regard for him, that, in 1265, among other ecclesiastical preferments,
he made him an offer of the archbishopric of Naples, but could not
prevail with him to accept of that or any other. The first part of his
theological Summ St. Thomas composed at Bologna: he was called thence to
Naples. Here it was that, according to Tocco and others, Dominick
Caserte beheld him, while in fervent prayer, raised from the ground, and
heard a voice from the crucifix directed to him in these words: "Thou
hast written well of me, Thomas: what recompense dost thou desire?" He
answered: "No other than thyself, O Lord."[10]
From the 6th of December, in 1273, to the 7th of March following, the
day of his death, he neither dictated nor wrote any thing on theological
matters. He from that time laid aside his studies, to fix his thoughts
and heart entirely on eternity, and to aspire with the greatest ardor
and most languishing desires to the enjoyment of God in perfect love.
Pope Gregory X. had called a general council, the second of Lyons, with
the view of extinguishing the Greek schism, and raising succors to
defend the holy land against the Saracens. The ambassadors of the
emperor Michael Palaeologus, together with the Greek prelates, were to
assist at it. The council was to meet on the 1st of May, in 1274. His
holiness, by brief directed to our saint, ordered him to repair thither,
and to prepare himself to defend the Catholic cause against the Greek
schismatics. Though indisposed, he set out from Naples about the end of
January. His dear friend, F. Reynold of Piperno, was appointed his
companion, and ordered to take care that he did not neglect himself,
which the saint was apt to do. St. Thomas on the road called at the
castle of Magenza, the seat of his niece, Francisca of Aquino, married
to the count of Cecan. Here his distemper increased, which was attended
with a loss of appetite. One day he said, to be rid of their
importunities, that he thought he could eat a little of a certain fish
which he had formerly eaten in France, but which was not easily to be
found in Italy. Search however was made, and the fish procured; but the
saint refused to touch it, in imitation of David on the like occasion.
Soon after his appetite returned a little, and his strength with it; yet
he was assured that his last hour was at hand. This however did not
hinder him from proceeding on his journey, till, his fever increasing,
he was forced to stop at Fossa-Nuova, a famous abbey of the Cistercians,
in the diocese of Terracina, where formerly stood the city called Forum
Appii. Entering the monastery, he went first to pray before the Blessed
Sacrament, according to his custom. He poured forth his soul with
extraordinary fervor, in the presence of Him who noto called him to his
kingdom. Passing thence into the cloister, which he never lived to go
out of, he repeated these words:[11] _This is my rest for ages without
end_. He was lodged in the abbot's apartment, where he lay ill for near
a month. The good monks treated him with uncommon veneration and esteem,
and as if he had been an angel from heaven. They would not employ any of
their servants about him, but chose to serve him themselves in the
meanest offices, as in cutting or carrying wood for him to burn, &c. His
patience, humility, constant recollection, and prayer, were equally
their astonishment and edification.
The nearer he saw himself to the term of all his desires, the entering
into the joy of his Lord, the more tender and inflamed were his longings
after death. He had continually in his mouth these words of St.
Austin,[12] "Then shall I truly live, when I shall be quite filled with
you alone, and your love; {531} now I am a burden to myself, because I
am not entirely full of you." In such pious transports of heavenly love,
he never ceased sighing after the glorious day of eternity. The monks
begged he would dictate an exposition of the book of Canticles, in
imitation of St. Bernard. He answered: "Give me St. Bernard's spirit,
and I will obey." But at last, to renounce perfectly his own will, he
dictated the exposition of that most mysterious of all the divine books.
It begins: Solomon inspiratus: It is not what his erudition might have
suggested, but what love inspired him with in his last mordents, when
his pure soul was hastening to break the chains of mortality, and drown
itself in the ocean of God's immensity, and in the delights of
eternity.[13] The holy doctor at last finding himself too weak to
dictate any more, begged the religious to withdraw, recommending himself
to their prayers, and desiring their leave to employ the few precious
moments he had to live with God alone. He accordingly spent them in
fervent acts of adoration, praise, thanksgiving, humility, and
repentance. He made a general confession of his whole life to F.
Reynold, with abundance of tears for his imperfections and sins of
frailty; for in the judgment of those to whom he had manifested his
interior, he had never offended God by any mortal sin. And he said to F.
Reynold, before his death, that he thanked God with his whole heart for
having prevented him with his grace, and always conducted him as it were
by the hand, and preserved him from any known sin that destroys charity
in the soul; adding, that this was purely God's mercy to which he was
indebted for his preservation from every sin which he had not
committed.[14] Having received absolution in the sentiments of the most
perfect penitent, he desired the Viaticum. While the abbot and community
were preparing to bring it, he begged to be taken off his bed, and laid
upon ashes spread upon the floor. Thus lying on the ground, weak in body
but vigorous in mind, he waited for the priest with tears of the most
tender devotion. When he saw the host in the priest's hand, he said: "I
firmly believe that Jesus Christ, true God and true Man, is present in
this august sacrament. I adore you, my God and my Redeemer: I receive
You, the price of my redemption, the Viaticum of my pilgrimage; for
whose honor I have studied, labored, preached, and taught. I hope I
never advanced any tenet as your word, which I had not learned from you.
If through ignorance I have done otherwise, I revoke every thing of that
kind, and submit all my writing, to the judgment of the holy Roman
church." Then recollecting himself, after other acts of faith,
adoration, and love, he received the holy Viaticum; but remained on the
ashes till he had finished his thanksgiving. Growing still weaker, amid
his transports of love, he desired extreme unction, which he received,
answering himself to all the prayers. After this he lay in peace and
joy, as appeared by the serenity of his countenance; and he was heard to
pronounce these aspirations: "Soon, soon will the God of all comfort
complete his mercies on me, and fill all my desires. I shall shortly be
satiated in him, and drink of the torrent of his delights: be inebriated
from the abundance of his house, and in him who is the source of life, I
shall behold the true light." Seeing all in tears about him, he
comforted them, saying: Death was his gain and his joy. F. Reynold said
he had hoped to see him triumph over the adversaries of the church in
the council of Lyons, and placed in a rank in which he might do it some
signal service. The saint answered: "I have begged of God, as the
greatest favor, to die a simple religious man, and I now thank him for
it. It is a {532} greater benefit than he has granted to many of his
holy servants, that he is pleased to call me out of this world so early,
to enter into his joy; wherefore grieve not for me, who am overwhelmed
with joy." He returned thanks to the abbot and monks of Fossa-Nuova for
their charity to him. One of the community asked him by what means we
might live always faithful to God's grace. He answered: "Be assured that
he who shall always walk faithfully in his presence, always ready to
give him an account of all his actions, shall never be separated from
him by consenting to sin." These were his last words to men, after which
he only spoke to God in prayer, and gave up the ghost, on the 7th of
March, in 1274, a little after midnight: some say in the fiftieth year
of his age. But Ptolemy of Lucca, and other contemporary authors, say
expressly in his forty-eighth, which also agrees with his whole history.
He was very tall, and every way proportioned.
The concourse of people at the saint's funeral was extraordinary:
several monks of that house, and many other persons, were cured by his
relics and intercession, of which many instances, juridically proved,
are mentioned by William of Tocco, in the bull of his canonization, and
other authors. The Bollandists give us other long authentic relations of
the like miracles continued afterwards, especially in the translation of
those holy relics. The University of Paris sent to the general and
provincial of the Dominicans a letter of condolence upon his death,
giving the highest commendations to the saint's learning and sanctity,
and begging the treasure of his holy body. Naples, Rome, and many other
universities, princes, and Orders, contended no less for it. One of his
hands, uncorrupt, was cut off in 1288, and given to his sister, the
countess Theodora, who kept it in her domestic chapel of San Severino.
After her death it was given to the Dominicans' convent of Salerno.
After several contestations, pope Urban V., many years after his death,
granted his body to the Dominicans to carry to Paris or Toulouse, as
Italy already possessed the body of St. Dominick at Bologna. The sacred
treasure was carried privately into France, and received at Thoulouse in
the most honorable mariner: one hundred and fifty thousand people came
to meet and conduct it into the city, having at their head Louis duke of
Anjou, brother to king Charles V., the archbishops of Thoulouse and
Narbonne, and many bishops, abbots, and noblemen. It rests now in the
Dominican's church at Thoulouse, in a rich shrine, with a stately
mausoleum over it, which reaches almost up to the roof of the church,
and hath four faces. An arm of the saint was at the same time sent to
the great convent of the Dominicans at Paris, and placed in St. Thomas's
chapel in their church, which the king declared a royal chapel. The
faculty of theology meets to assist at a high mass there on the
anniversary festival of the saint. The kingdom of Naples, after many
pressing solicitations, obtained, in 1372, from the general chapter held
at Thoulouse, a bone of the other arm of St. Thomas. It was kept in the
church of the Dominicans at Naples till 1603, when the city being
delivered from a public calamity by his intercession, it was placed in
the metropolitan church among the relics of the other patrons of the
country. That kingdom, by the briefs of Pius V. in 1567, and of Clement
VIII. in 1603, confirmed by Paul V., honors him as a principal patron.
He was solemnly canonized by pope John XXII. in 1323. Pope Pius V., in
1567, commanded his festival and office to be kept equal with those of
the four doctors of the western church.
* * * * *
Many in their studies, as in other occupations, take great pains to
little purpose, often to draw from them the poison of vanity or error;
or at least to drain their affections, and rather to nourish pride and
other vices in the heart than to promote true virtue. Sincere humility
and simplicity of heart {533} are essential conditions for the
sanctification of studies, and for the improvement of virtue by them.
Prayer must also both go before and accompany them. St. Thomas spoke
much to God by prayer, that God might speak to him by enlightening his
understanding in his reading and studies; and he received in this what
he asked in the other exercise. This prodigy of human wit, this
unparalleled genius, which penetrated the most knotty difficulties in
all the sciences, whether sacred or profane, to which he applied
himself, was accustomed to say that he learned more at the foot of the
crucifix than in books. We ought never to set ourselves to read or study
any thing without having first made our morning meditation, and without
imploring in particular the divine light in every thing we read; and
seasoning our studies by frequent aspirations to God in them, and by
keeping our souls in an humble attention to his presence. In intricate
difficulties, we ought more earnestly, prostrate at the foot of a
crucifix, to ask of Christ the resolution of our doubts. We should thus
receive, in the school of so good a master, that science which makes
saints, by giving, with other sciences, the true knowledge of God and
ourselves, and purifying and kindling in the will the fire of divine
love with the sentiments of humility and other virtues. By a little use,
fervent aspirations to God will arise from all subjects in the driest
studies, and it will become easy, and as it were natural in them, to
raise our heart earnestly to God, either despising the vain pursuits, or
detesting the vanity, and deploring the blindness of the world, or
aspiring after heavenly gifts, or begging light, grace, or the divine
love. This is a maxim of the utmost importance in an interior or
spiritual life, which otherwise, instead of being assisted, is entirely
overwhelmed and extinguished by studies, whether profane or sacred, and
in its place a spirit of self-sufficiency, vanity, and jealousy is
contracted, and the seeds of all other spiritual vices secretly sown.
Against this danger St. Bonaventure warns all students strongly to be
upon their guard, saying, "If a person repeats often in his heart, Lord,
when shall I love thee? he will feel a heavenly fire kindled in his soul
much more than by a thousand bright thoughts or fine speculations on
divine secrets, on the eternal generation of the Word, or the procession
of the Holy Ghost."[15] Prayer and true virtue even naturally conduce to
the perfection of learning, in every branch; for purity of the heart,
and the disengagement of the affections from all irregular passions,
render the understanding clear, qualify the mind to judge impartially of
truth in its researches, divest it of many prejudices, the fatal sources
of errors, and inspire a modest distrust to a person's own abilities and
lights. Thus virtue and learning mutually assist and improve each other.
Footnotes:
1. St. Thomas was born at Belcastro: on his ancient illustrious
pedigree and its branches, which still flourish in Calabria, see
Barrius, de Antiquitate et Situ Calabriae, with the notes of Thomas
Aceti, l. 4, c. 2, p. 288, &c, where he refutes the Bollandists, who
place his birth at Aquino in Campania, on the border of that
province.
2. L. 1, Conf. c. 7.
3. Conf. l. 5, c. 3.
4. Gul. Tocco. Bern. Guid. Antonin. Malvend.
5. Footnote: 2. 2dae, q. 188, a. 5.
6. The manner of teaching then was not, as it is generally at present,
by dictating lessons, which the scholars write, but it was according
to the practice that still obtains in some public schools, as in
Padua, &c. The master delivered his explanation like an harangue;
the scholars retained what they could, and often privately took down
short notes to help their memory. Academical degrees were then also
very different from what they now are; being conferred on none but
those who taught. To be Master of Arts, a man must have studied six
years at least, and be twenty-one years old. And to be qualified for
teaching divinity, he must have studied eight years more, and be at
least thirty-five years old. Nevertheless, St. Thomas, by a
dispensation of the university, on account of his distinguished
merit, was allowed to teach at twenty-five. The usual way was for
one named bachelor to explain the Master of the Sentences for a year
in the school of some doctor, upon whose testimony, after certain
rigorous public examinations, and other formalities, the bachelor
was admitted in the degree of licentiate; which gave him the license
of a doctor, to teach or hold a school himself. Another year, which
was likewise employed in expounding the Master of the Sentences,
completed the degree of doctor, which the candidate received from
the chancel for of the university, and then opened a school in form,
with a bachelor to teach under him. In 1253, St. Thomas began to
teach as licentiate; but a stop was put to his degrees for some
time, by a violent disagreement between the regulars, principally
Dominicans and Franciscans, and the university which had at first
admitted them into their body, and even given the Dominicans a
college. In these disputes St. Thomas was not spared, but he for a
long time had recourse to no other vindication of himself than that
of modesty and silence. On Palm Sunday he was preaching in the
Dominican's church of St. James, when a beadle coming in commanded
silence, and read a long written invective against him and his
colleagues. When he had done, the saint, without speaking one word
to justify himself or his Order, continued his sermon with the
greatest tranquillity and unconcern of mind. William de Saint-Amour,
the most violent among the secular doctors, published a book, On the
dangers of the latter Times, a bitter invective against the
mendicant Orders, which St. Louis sent to pope Alexander IV. SS.
Thomas and Bonaventure were sent into Italy to defend their Orders.
And to confute that book, St. Thomas published his nineteenth
Opusculum, with an Apology for the mendicant Orders, showing they
lay under no precept that all should apply themselves to manual
labor, and that spiritual occupations were even preferable. The
pope, upon this apology, condemned the book, and also another,
called the Eternal Gospel, in defence of the error of the abbot
Joachim. who had advanced that the church was to have an end, and be
succeeded by a new church which should be formed perfectly according
to the Spirit: this heresy, and the errors of certain other
fanatics, were refuted by our saint at Rome. In his return to Paris,
a violent storm terrified all the mariners and passengers; only
Thomas appeared without the least fear, and continued in quiet
prayer till the tempest had ceased. William de Saint-Amour being
banished Paris, peace was restored in the university.
7. Gul. Tocco.
8. Conclusum est contra Manichaeos.
9. The works of St. Thomas are partly philosophical, partly
theological; with some comments on the holy scriptures, and several
treatises of piety. The elegance of Plato gave his philosophy the
greater vogue among the Gentiles; and the most learned of the
Christian fathers were educated is the maxims or his school. His
noble sentiments on the attributes of the Deity, particularly his
providence, and his doctrine on the rewards and punishments in a
future state, seemed favorable to religion. Nor can it be doubted
but he had learned, in his travels in Egypt and Phoenicia, many
traditional truths delivered down from the patriarchal ages, before
the corruptions of idolatry. On the other hand, the philosophy of
Aristotle was much less in request among the heathens, was silent as
to all traditional truths, and contained some glaring errors, which
several heretics of the first ages adopted against the gospel. On
which account he is called by Tertullian the patriarch of heretics,
and his works were procribed by a council of Paris, about the year
1209. Nevertheless it must be acknowledged, by all impartial judges,
that Aristotle was the greatest and most comprehensive genius of
antiquity, and perhaps of any age: and he was the only one that had
laid down complete rules, and explained the laws of reasoning, and
had given a thorough system of philosophy. Boetius had penetrated
the depth of his genius, and the usefulness of his logic; yet did
not redress his mistakes. Human reasoning is too weak without the
light of revelation; and Aristotle, by relying too much on it fell
into the same gross errors. Not only many ancient heretics, but also
several in the twelfth and thirteenth ages, as Peter Aballard, the
Albigenses, and other heretics, made a bad use of his philosophy.
But above all, the Saracens of Arabaia and Spain wrote with
incredible subtilty on his principles. St. Thomas opposed the
enemies of truth with their own weapons, and employed the philosophy
of Aristotle in defence of the faith, in which he succeeded to a
miracle. He discerned and confuted his errors, and set in a clear
and new light the great truths of reason which that philosopher had
often wrapt up in obscurity. Thus Aristotle, who had been called the
terror of Christians, in the hands of Thomas became orthodox, and
furnished faith with new arms against idolatry and atheism. For this
admirable doctor, though he had only a bad Latin translation of the
works of that philosopher, has corrected his errors, and shown that
his whole system of philosophy, as far as it is grounded in truth,
is subservient to divine revelation. This he has executed through
the nicest metaphysical speculations, in the five first volumes of
his works. He everywhere strikes out a new track for himself; and
enters into the most secret recesses of this shadowy region; so as
to appear new even on known and beaten subjects. For his writings
are original efforts of genius and reflection, and every point he
handles in a manner that makes it appear new. If his speculations
are sometimes spun fine, and his divisions run to niceties, this was
the fault of the age in which he lived, and of the speculative
refining geniuses of the Arabians, whom he had undertaken to pursue
and confute throughout their whole system. His comments on the four
books of the Master of the Sentences contain a methodical course of
theology, and make the sixth and seventh volumes of his works; the
tenth, eleventh, and twelfth give us his Summ, Or incomparable
abridged body of divinity, though this work he never lived to
finish. Among the fathers, St. Austin is principally his guide; so
that the learned cardinals, Norris and Aguirre, call St. Thomas his
most faithful Interpreter. He draws the rules of practical duties
and virtues principally from the morals of St. Gregory on Job. He
compassed his Summ against the Gentiles, at the request of St.
Raymund of Pennafort, to serve the preachers in Spain in converting
the Jews and Saracens to the faith. He wrote comments on most parts
of the holy scriptures, especially on the epistles of St. Paul, in
which latter he seemed to outdo himself. By the order of pope Urban
IV., he compiled the office of the blessed sacrament, which the
church uses to this day, on the feast and during the Octave of
Corpus-Christi. His Opuscula, or lesser treatises, have in view the
confutation of the Greek schismatics and several heresies; or
discuss various points of philosophy and theology; or are comments
on the creed, sacraments, decalogue, Lord's prayer, and Hail Mary.
In his treatises on piety he reduces the rules of an interior life
to these two gospel maxims: first. That we must strenuously labor by
self-denial and mortification to extinguish in our hearts all the
sparks of pride, and the inordinate love of creatures; secondly,
That by assiduous prayer, meditation, and doing the will of God in
all things, we must kindle his perfect love in our souls. (Opusc. 17
& 18; His works are printed in nineteen volumes folio.)
10. Bene scripsisti de me, Thoma: quam mercedem addipies? Non aliam,
nisi te Domine.
11. Psalm cxxxi. 14.
12. Conf. l. 10, c. 28.
13. There is another commentary on the same book which sometimes bears
his name, and begins: Sonet vox tua in auribus meis: which was not
the work of this saint, but of Hayme{}, bishop of Halberstadt. See
Echard, t. 1, p. 323. Touron, p. 714. Le Long. Bibl. Sacra. n. 766.
14. Tibi debo et quod non feci. St. Au{}.
15. St. Bonav. l. de Mystica Theol. a. ult.