BBBBb mfWs mm ralBSflHHI '•/}/ ominic. The beautiful life of the saint by Pere Lacordaire seemed to have furnished everything that could be desired, in clothing the legendary story of his great patriarch in modern dress. But although there can cer- tainly be no temptation to pretend to anything like a rivalry with that eloquent writer, there are some reasons which appear to make a fresh biography desirable for those among ourselves who wish to form a more familiar acquaint- ance with S. Dominic than is furnished in the brief notices given in English collections of the lives of the saints. It is true PereLacordaire's life has for some time been translated into our own language ; but the very beauty of its style is so essentially French, that no translation can preserve its peculiar charm, or render it as popular as it deserves to be. But it is French in something more than idiom; it was written with the avowed object of advancing the order in France, and a prominence is therefore given to the Gallican associations of the Order of Preachers, which, by readers of another nation, is felt to be undue. In the following pages, the course of .the saint's life has been followed with no view save that of giving his character in its true historical light; and for this end, the simple narrative of facts, without comment or explanation, has been felt to be sufficient. We are much mistaken if the best defence that can be offered of S. Dominic's character, so long the subject of the strangest misrepresentation, be not to be found in the unvarnished story of his life, drawn from the testimony of those who saw him face to face, and whose writings form the principal material from which the follow- ing pages have been compiled. « Tl ADVERTISEMENT. There are some subjects which our readers may be dis- appointed in finding so briefly touched upon in a life of S. Dominic. But we have felt that several of the disputed points, commonly discussed by his biographers, have little real interest to the student of his character. We have not, therefore, entered at length into the history of the Albigensian war, or of the foundation of the Inquisition, preferring to leave the doubts arising out of these subjects to be resolved by others, whose object is the critical examination of historical questions. Our only task has been to lay before our readers the personal portrait of one whose influence in the Church of Christ must endure so long as the religious and apostolic life shall be found within her bosom. The authorities from which we have drawn our sketch have been chiefly Mamachi's Annals, with the ancient chronicles and memoirs reprinted in that work, including the Acts of Bologna, the memoir of Sister Cecilia, and that of blessed Humbert; Polidori's life, which follows the facts, and in many places the text, of blessed Jordan ; Ferdinand Castiglio's history of the order, and the life of S. Dominic by Touron; whilst in the account of the early fathers of the order, great use has been made of F. Michel Pio's work entitled "Progenie dell' Ordine in Italia" (which collects all the particulars given by Gerard de Frachet and the old writers), and of the biographical sketches of F. Marchese in his "•Diario Domenicano." The summary of the history of the Friars Preachers subsequent to the death of S. Dominic, has been chiefly taken from Touron's great work on "the Illustrious Men of the Order." In selecting a few out of the many names that called for notice, we have necessarily omitted a number that will readily suggest themselves to our readers ; but our object has been to avoid - wearying them with a mere enumeration of authors and learned works, and, without attempting such ^i complete sketch as our limited space rendered impossible, to suggest something of the general features of the order, as illustrated by the lives of its greatest men. CONTENTS CHAPTER I. ^y^ The birth of Dominic. His youth and university life, 1. CHAPTER II. Dominic is appointed canon of Osma. His mission to the north in company with Diego of Azevedo, 6. CHAPTER III. Pilgrimage to Rome. First labours among the Albigenses, 9. .^Dominic CHAPTER IT. ]/ >minic in Languedoc. The miracles of Fanjeaux and Montreal. The foundation of the Convent of Prouille, 14 CHAPTER V. Diego returns to Spain. His death. Dominic remains in Langue- doc. The murder of Peter de Castelnau, and the commencement of the Albigensian war, 20. • CHAPTER VI. Proclamation of the Crusade. Simon de Montfort. Dominio among the heretics. His apostolic labours, 27. CHAPTER VII. The institution of the Rosary. The Council of Lavaur. The battle ofMuret, 41. VIA CONTENTS. CHAPTER VIII. Dominic commences the foundation of his order at Toulouse. The grant of Fulk of Toulouse. Dominic's second visit to Home. The Council of Lateran. Innocent III. approves the plan of the Order. Meeting of Dominic and Francis, 52. CHAPTER IX. Dominic's return to France. The brethren assemble at Prouille to choose a rule. The spirit of the Order. Some account of the first followers of Dominic. Tne convent of S. Romain, 62. CHAPTER X. Dominicls third visit to Koine. Confirmation of the Order by HUlionus 111. Dominic's vision in St. Peter's. He is appointed master of the Sacred Palace. Ugolino of Ostia, 72. CHAPTER XI. Dominic returns to Toulouse. He disperses the community of S. Eomain. His address to the people of Languedoc. Future affairs of the totter in that country, 77. ' CHAPTER XII. Dominic's fourth vist to Konie. His mode of travelling, 86. U CHAPTER XIII. The convent of S. Sixtus. Rapid increase of the Order. Miracles and popularity of S. Dominic. The visit of the angels, 92. + CHAPTER XIV. The monatstery of Santa Maria in Trastevere. Dominic is ap- pointed to reform and inclose the community. His sucoess. Their settlement at S. Sixtus. The restoration to life of the Lord Napoleon. Sister Cecilia, 102. CONTENTS. XX • CHAPTER XV. Affairs of the Order in France. First settlement of the brethren at the convent of S. James at Paris. Foundation at R i f >1ft g'"' a - Character of the religious houses of the Ul'fler. Settlement of the Friars in Spain and Portugal. Brothers Tancrod and Henry of Eome, 108. CHAPTER XVI. Dominic at Santa Sahina. The vocation of S. Hyacinth. Regi- nald of Orleans. The Blessed Virgin bestows on him the habit of the Order, 118. CHAPTER XVII. Dominic's life at Eome. The rule of the Order. Description of his person and appearance. His prayer, and manner of hfe, 125. CHAPTER XVIII. Attacks of the Devil. Legends of S. Sabina and S. Sixtus, 133. CHAPTER XIX. Dominic leaves Rome. He visits Bologna on his way to Spain. Incidents of his journey. He preaches at Segovia. Foundations there, and at Madrid. His continual prayer, 142. CHAPTER XX. Return to S. Romain. He proceeds to Paris. Jordan of Saxony. Interview with Alexander, King of Scotland. Return to Italv, 152. CHAPTER XXI. The Convent of Bologna. Effects of Reginald's preaching and government. Fervour of the Community of S. Nicholas. Conversion of Fathers Roland and Moneta. Dispersion of the brethren through the cities of Northern Italy. Reginald's novices. Robaldo. Bonviso of Placentia. Stephen of Spain. Rodolph of Faenza. Reginald is sent to Paris. Jordan joins the Order. Reginald's success- and death, 158. SS? X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXII.* £*""ljominic journeys through Italy, and returns to Eome for the fifth ~~^iffie:--lrfCTe"ffSB"T>f ^the Order. Characters of the first fathers. Interview with S. Francis. Favours of the Holy See, 173. **es referred to, if they ever really took place, occurred at HIS MISSION WITH DIEGO OF AZEVEDO. 9 some later visit to the French court. But though there is evidently some confusion in the time, we do not like altogether to abandon the story as without foundation; for there is always a peculiar charm in the little links which unite the lives of two great saints together, and those who claim any interest in the order of S. Dominic may feel a pleasure in thinking of S. Louis as a child of the Kosary. CHAPTER III. Pilgrimage to Rome. First labours among the,Albigenses The death of the princess, whose marriage they were negotiating, whilst engaged in a second embassy at her father's court, having relieved Diego and Dominic from their charge in this affair, they determined to take the occasion of their absence from the diocese, to visit Rome on pilgrimage before returning to Spain. Many motives concurred in inducing them to undertake this journey; but with Diego the most powerful one was the desire to obtain permission from Pope Innocent III. to resign his bishopric, and undertake the labours of an apostolic missionary life among the Cuman Tartars, who were then ravaging the fold of Christ in Hungary and the surrounding countries. It would seem as if the impressions made on the minds of these two great men by what they had witnessed of the sufferings of the Church in their journey through Europe, had been of that kind which is never effaced, and which, whenever it touches the soul, is to it the commencement of a new life. In them it had kindled the desire to devote them- selves to a far wider field of labour than the limits of one diocese: they had both received the heroic call of the apostolate. The state of the Church at that time was one which might well make such an appeal to hearts ready to receive it. "Without were fightings, within 10 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. were fears." Whilst hordes of savage and heathen ene- mies were pressing hard on the outworks of Christendom, and watering the ground with the blood of unnumbered martyrs, heresy, as we have seen, was at work within the fold; and during this memorable year, Diego and Dominic had in some degree been eye-witnesses of both these evils. We know in what manner they had been thrown among the Albigenses of France, and it is at least probable, that in the course of their Danish journey they had become in some way more vividly aware of the dangers 4f which the northern nations were exposed. Pope Innocent, however, knew the value of Diego too well to grant him the permission he sought, and exhorted him not to abandon that charge which God had given him in his Church, but to reassume the care of his diocese; and after a short residence in Rome, the two friends accordingly prepared to return to Spain, it being then the March of the year 1205. They had come to Rome as pilgrims, and it was in the same spirit that, on their journey home, they turned from the direct road in order to visit the celebrated abbey of Citeaux, which the fame of S. Bernard had made illus- trious throughout Europe. The charm of its religious character and associations captivated the heart of Diego ; doubtless the failure of his deeply-cherished plan had been no little pain to him, and his return to Osma was a hard obedience. He was suffering under that strange thirst to strip himself of the world, which sometimes attacks the soul at the very time when it bows to the law that forces it back to the world's duty. Very wil- lingly would he have remained at Citeaux, and commenced his noviciate in that school of holy living; but as this could not be, he contented himself with taking the habit of the order, and soliciting that he might carry some of tht religious back with him to Spain, to learn from them their rule and manner of life. It is interesting to us to know that he was probably moved to this by the example of our own S. Thomas of Canterbury, who. several years before, had received the religious habit at the same monas- tery, whilst in exile from his diocese, and whose popu- LABOUR*? AMONG THE ALBIGENSES, 11 larity as a saint was just at that time at its greatest height. After this he no longer delayed his homeward journey; but, accompanied by Dominic and some of the Cistercian brethren, he set out for Spain, and soon arrived in the neighbourhood of Montpellier. And here, if we may so speak, the will of God awaited them. Those inward, stirrings which both had felt, yet had not fully comprehended, had truly been the whisper- ings of the Divine voice ; and dimly feeling in the dark, in obedience to the hand that was beckoning them on, the dream of a martyr's crown among the Cumans, or a monk's cowl at Citeaux, had, as it were, been two false guesses as to what that whisper meant. This feature in what we may call the vocation of S. Dominic is worthy of notice, because whilst we are often inclined to regret that more details of his personal life have not been preserved, there is a peculiarity in this early portion of it, not with- out its interest. His call was not sudden, or miraculous, or even extraordinary ; it was that which is the likeliest to come to men like ourselves; particular impressions of mind were given just at the time when circumstances combined together gradually to develop the way in which those impressions could be carried out. He was always being led forward, not knowing whither he went. As sub-prior of Osma he probably saw nothing before him but the ordinary community-life of the cathedral chapter. Then came the journey to Denmark, on a mission whose ostensible subject was a failure, but whose real end in the designs of God was accomplished when it brought him into the presence of the heresy which it was his destiny to destroy. Yet though we have reason to believe that, from the time of his first collision with the Albigenses, a very clear and distinct idea was formed in his mind of some future apostolate of preaching, it is evident that lie had no equally clear and determinate view in what direction he was to work ; and it hung on circumstances alone, and on the will of another, to decide whether or no he were to end his days as a nameless missioner among the Tartars. He was on the road back to his old home, preparing to take up again the old duties and the old life, 12 LIFE OP S. I>OMINIC. which had been interrupted by two years, rich with new thoughts and hopes now, as it seemed, to be for ever abandoned ; and then, when he had made what was pro- bably a painful sacrifice of great desires, those mysterious orderings of Providence, which we call chance and coinci- dence, had prepared for him, under the walls of Mont- pellier, a combination of events which was to make all clear. The alarming progress and character of the Albigen- sian heresy had at length determined the Roman Pontiff on active measures for its suppression. A commission had been appointed for that purpose, the most distin- guished members of which were Arnold, abbot of Citeaux, and Rodolph and Peter de Castelnau, the Papal legates. These were, all three, Cistercian monks, and with them were associated several other abbots of the same order. They found their task a difficult one, for the country was entirely in the power of Count Raymond of Toulouse, the avowed protector of the Albigenses; and unhappily the bishops and clergy, by their coldness and indifference, too often even by yet more culpable irregularities, were themselves the chief causes of the spread of the evil. Innocent III., in a letter to his legates, speaks in bitter and yet in touching terms of this degeneracy of those who should have been foremost in the ranks. "The pastor," he says, "has become a hireling; he no longer feeds the flock, but himself; wolves enter the fold, and he is not there to oppose himself as a wall against the ene- mies of God's house." This scandal was of course the great weapon used by the heretics, in all their conferences with the legates. It was a short and triumphant argu- ment to quote the words of the Gospel, " By their fruits shall ye know them;" and then to point at the careless and worldly character of the priesthood. Baffled and confounded in all their efforts, the Catholic leaders had met to consult together in the neighbourhood of Mont- pellier ; and it was whilst discussing the gloomy prospects of their commission that they heard of the arrival of the two travellers. Their reputation, and the interest they had shown in the state of the distracted province on the LABOURS AMONG THE ALBIGENSES. 13 occasion of their former visit, were well known, and the legates sent them an invitation to assist at the conference. It was accepted, and the disappointments and perplexities of the whole case were laid before them. The chief difficulty in their way was the impossibility of convincing the heretics that the truth of the Christian faith depended, not on the good or bad example of indi- viduals, but on the sure and infallible word of God made known to them through the Church. Diego inquired very particularly concerning the mode of life adopted by the legates and their opponents, and gave it as his opinion that the great obstacle which had hindered the work of souls, had been the neglect of Evangelical poverty among the Catholic missioners. For " he remarked," says Blessed Jordan, " that the heretics attracted men by persuasive means, by preaching, and a great outward show of sanctity, whilst the legates were surrounded by a numerous suite of followers, with horses and rich ap- parel. Then he said, ' It is not thus, my brothers, that you must act. They seduce simple souls with the ap- pearances of poverty and austerity : by presenting to them the contrary spectacle, you will scarcely edify them ; you may destroy them, but you will never touch their hearts.' " The words of Diego, if they convinced his hearers, were yet a little unwelcome. None had the courage to be the first to follow the hard counsel, and they felt the want of one possessed of the chief authority among them to set the example of an austere reform, and enforce its adoption by the others. "Excellent father," they said to Diego, "what would you have us do?" Then the spirit of God came upon him, and he said " Do as I am about to do;" and, calling his attendants, he gave orders that they should return to Osma with all the equipages and followers who accompanied him. A little company of ecclesiastics alone remained, of whom Dominic was one ; but they retained nothing of external pomp, and affected only the bearing and manners of the humblest missioners. The example was instantly followed by the other legates, and each one sent away all his followers and baggage, retaining only the books necessary for the re- 14 LIFE OP S. DOMINIC. cital of the Divine Office, and for the confutation of the heretics. More than this, feeling the power of Diego's character and influence, they unauimously elected him as head and chief of the Catholic body, and Innocent III,, to whom the whole of the circumstances were made known, hesitated not to grant him the permission which he had before refused in the case of the Cumans : he was authorized to remain in the French provinces for the service of the faith. CHAPTER IV. Dominic in Languedoc. The miracles of Fanjeaux and Montreal. The foundation of the Convent of Prouille \ A NEW impulse had been given to the enterprise on which the Catholics of Languedoc had embarked: with the apostolic life came a daily increase of the apostolic spirit. It was a very different thing to set about evan- gelizing a country encumbered with the pomp of a feudal retinue, and to traverse the same country on foot with "neither purse nor scrip," as Diego was wont to send out his companions daily into the neighbouring towns and villages to preach the faith. For after the conference at Montpellier they all set out together towards Toulouse, stopping at different places on the road to preach and hold disputations with the heretics, as they were moved by the Spirit of God. We are assured that they made this journey barefooted, and trusting to God's providence alone for their daily wants ; and the effect of this new way of proceeding was soon evident in the success which at- tended their labours. At Carmain, a town near Toulouse, the residence of two of the principal Albigensian leaders, Baldwin and Thierry, the people received the missionaries so warmly that they were only prevented from expelling the Albigenses from tHeir territory by the authority of the lord of the place, and accompanied the legates out of the town on their departure with every sign of respect. They proceeded iu this way to Beziers, Carcassona ; and DOMINIC IN LANGUEDOC. 15 other places in the surrounding country, confirming the faith of the Catholics, and in many instances reconciling great numbers of the heretics to the Church. Hitherto Dominic's part in these transactions has seemed to be a secondary one : he has appeared before us rather as the follower and companion of the bishop of Osma, than as the man whose name was to be for ever remembered in future histories as the chief leader in this struggle of the faith. Few probably of those who wit- nessed these first openings of the campaign against the Albigenses, would have believed that the award of a deathless fame was to fall, not to the bishop, whose prompt and commanding spirit had been so readily re- cognized by those who had unanimously chosen him to be their chief, but to one who followed in his train, known only as Brother Dominic; for he had laid aside even the title of sub-prior, and took on him nothing but the inferior part of the subject and attendant of another. As soon, however, as the disputes with the heretics began to be helct of which we have spoken, his power and value were felt. Perhaps they were best evidenced by the bitter hatred which the heretics conceived against him. The same sentiments had been so unequivocally evinced towards the legate Peter de Castelnau, that the others had persuaded him to withdraw for a while from the enter- prise, in order not to exasperate those whom it was their object to conciliate. The masterly arguments and capti- vating eloquence of Dominic, which time after time .silenced his adversaries, and conquered the obstinacy of vast numbers who returned to the obedience of the Church after many of these conferences, excited a no less vindictive feeling against him in the minds of those who might be confounded, but would never yield. They spoke of him as their most dangerous enemy, and did not even conceal their resolve to take his life, whenever chance should give them the opportunity. He behaved on this occasion with a surprising indifference : the service of God was the only thing that he saw before him ; and as his days were spent in public disputations, his nights were consumed in interviews with those who secretly 16 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. sought his counsel, or more frequently in those prayers, and tears, and strong intercessions with God for the souls of his people, which were more powerful anus in fighting the battle of the faith than were the wisdom and eloquence of his words. Among the conferences held at this time, that of Fan- jeaux was the most important, both from the preparations made by both sides, and the extraordinary nature of its termination. It would seem that the heretics had ap- pealed to some final arbitration of their differences, and that the Catholic leaders had not only responded to the challenge, but even accepted as judges in the controversy three persons whose sentiments were commonly known as favourable to the Albigenses themselves. Each side had put together in writing the strongest defence of their cause ; that of the Catholics was the work of Dominic. The three arbitrators having heard both parties, and read the written apologies, absolutely refused to pronounce any decision on the case ; and in this perplexity the here- tics loudly demanded a different mode of trial,* and pro- posed that both books should be committed to the flames, that God might declare by his own interposition which cause He favoured. " Accordingly a great fire was lighted" (says Blessed Jordan), "and the two volumes were cast therein ; that of the heretics was immediately consumed to ashes ; the other, which had been written by the blessed man of God, Dominic, not only remained un- hurt, but was borne far away by the flames in presence of the whole assembly. Again a second and a third time they threw it into the fire, and each time the same result clearly manifested which was the true faith, and the holi- ness of him who had written the book. This miracle is given by every contemporaneous writer. It is mentioned in the lessons for the Divine office, composed by Constan- tine Medici, bishop of Orvieto, in 1254 ; and in the fol- lowing century Charles le Bel, King of France, purchased the house where the event took place, and erected it into a chapel under the invocation of the saint. A large beam of wood on which the paper fell when tossed away by the flames, was still preserved when Castiglio wrote his his- THE MIRACLE AT MONTREAL. 17 tory ; and there does not even seem to have "been any attempt on the part of the heretics themselves to deny the fact. Yet in spite of this, there is a melancholy sig- nificance in the expression of the historian. " A few of the heretics were converted to the truth of our holy faith, but as to the rest, it produced no effect ; this being the just reward of their great sins."* It would seem as if every age and every heresy were to act over again the scenes of Christ's ministry in Judea : signs and miracles were thrown away on those who had Moses and the prophets, and would not believe. This was not the only occasion when a miracle of this kind was wrought. A similar prodigy took place at Montreal, in the diocese of Carcassona, under different circumstances. Dominic had, in the course of one of his public disputations, written down on a sheet of paper various quotations from the Holy Scriptures, which he had cited in the course of his argument, and these he gave to one of the heretics, praying him to consider them well, and not to resist the conclusion to which they might bring him. The same evening, as this man sat over the fire with some of his companions, discussing the subjects of dispute, he drew out the paper, and proposed submit- ting it to the flames, as a test of the truth of its contents. They consented, and thrusting it into the fire, kept it there for some time, and then drew it out unscorched. Again and again they repeated the experiment, and always with the same result. And a second time what do we find to be the effect on the witnesses of this new miracle ? " Then the heretics were filled with great wonder, and, instead of keeping the promise they had made of believing the truths preached by the Catholics, agreed to keep the prodigy a close secret, lest it should reach the ears of the Catholics, who would be certain to claim it as a sign of victory."f One, however, more noble-minded than the rest, was converted by what he saw, and published it to the world, and from his testmony it was inserted by Peter de Vaulx Cernay, in his history of the Albigenses. It is to be regretted that more particulars have not * Castiglio, part i. cap. viii. t Polidori, cap. vi. 18 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. been preserved of those memorable conferences, but we arc only told in general that great success everywhere followed the footsteps of the missionaries, and that the r.umbers of the Catholics daily increased, which reduced the heretics to the necessitybf using frauds and the most incredible ingenuity to preserve their ground against the power of their adversaries It will be observed that we have made no attempt in these pages to give any account of the nature of that celebrated heresy, the name of which will be for ever inseparably united with that of S. Dominic ; neither is it our intention to do so. An ample account of its doc- trines may be gathered from so many works within the reach of the Catholic reader, that we feel it is wholly unnecessary to devote any space here to the task of un- veiling its true character. Indeed, whilst alluding to its connection with this period of S. Dominic's life, we cannot but feel that this connection has been greatly overrated by many, who have made his biography little more than a history of political and ecclesiastical affairs, with which he had personally but little to do. In this way his own personal life and character have often been lost sight of, and confused with the troubles of the times, and the portrait of the Saint has been hidden by the shadow which rests, in some degree, on the Count de Montfort's crusade. With all this we have nothing to do; nor shall we allude to the political history of the time, except in so far as is necessary to explain and illus- trate the details preserved to us of the life of Dominic. There is little doubt that the Albigensian heresy, besides its corruptions of the faith and its frightful immorality, had a directly political character, and was mixed up with a spirit of revolution and sedition, which goes far to ex plain the bitterness of those civil wars of which it, was the immediate cause; and, like all revolutionary movements, it had a disorganizing effect on all social ties, so that the south of France was plunged by it into a state of civil anarchy, which was doubtless the chief reason which moved the civil arm against its followers with such pecu- liar severity. One of the consequences of these political FOUNDATION OP THE CONVENT OF PROUILLE. 19 commotions was the impoverishing of many noble families engaged in them, and this often led to their concealing their faith through the pressure of necessity, and suffering their children to be educated by the heretics, who eagerly made use of the worldly temptations which were in their power to offer, in order to get the children of Catholics into their hands. This evil was very soon perceived by the quick eye of Dominic, and so deplorably did he feel the cruelty which exposed these souls to the certain ruin of their religious principles, that he determined on a very strenuous effort to oppose it, and to provide some means for the education of the daughters of Catholics in the true faith. For this purpose he resolved to found a monastery, where, within the protection of strict enclosure, and under the charge of a few holy women whom he gathered to- gether out of the suffering provinces, these children might be nurtured under the Church's shadow. The spot chosen for the purpose was Prouille, a name illustrious in the Dominican annals, for there, unconsciously probably to its founder, rose the mother-house of an institute which was to cover the world. It was a small village' near Montreal, at the foot of the Pyrenees ; and a church dedi- cated to our Lady, under the familiar title of Notre Dame de Prouille, was the object of considerable veneration among the people. There, with the warm sanction and co-operation of Fulk, bishop of Toulouse, Dominic founded his monastery. The church we have spoken of was granted to the new foundation, and it seemed as if the plan had no sooner been proposed than every one saw its fitness for the necessities of the times, and vied one with another in forwarding and contributing to it. Peter of Castelnau, stretched on a bed of sickness, gave thanks to God with clasped hands for what he deemed so signal a mercy. Bcrenger, archbishop of Nar bonne, immediately granted it considerable lands and revenues ; and all the Catholic nobles, with the Count de Montfort at their head, gave* their prompt and liberal aid to a scheme from which they • themselves were sure to derive su/ch lasting advantage. The little community consisted at first of nine mem- bers, all of them converted from the Albigensian heresy c 2 20 LIFE OP 6, DOMINIC. by the preaching and miracles of Dominic. They were joined by two noble ladies of Catholic families, one of whom, Guillemette de Fanjeaux, though the last to re- ceive the habit, was chosen by Dominic as their Superior. She continued in that office until the year 1225 ; but he himself governed the monastry, and thenceforth received the title of Prior of Prouille, residing in a house outside the enclosure, when his apostolic labours did not call him elsewhere. The community took possession of their new retreat on the 27th of December, 1206. Their habit was white with a tawny mantle ; of the rule given them by their founder we know nothing, save that it bound them, besides attending to the education of children, to devote certain hours to manual labour, such as spinning. Prouille, afterwards associated to the Order of Preachers, became in time a flourishing monastry, never numbering less than a hundred religious ; it was the mother-house of no less than twelve other foundations, and reckoned among its prioresses several of the royal house of Bourbon. CHAPTER V. Diego returns to Spain. His death. Dominic remains in Langue- doc The murder of Peter de Castelnau, and the commence- ment of the Albigensian war. Piego of Azevedo saw the foundation of Prouille before returning to his diocese of Osma. He had now been two years in the French provinces, and he felt it was time to revisit his own church and people. He left the country in which he had laboured so truly and nobly, with the promise soon to return with fresh labourers in the cause ; ^but this promise was destined never to be fulfilled. His • companions attended him to the confines of the province of Toulouse, all journeying on foot and preaching as they went. These last missionary labours of Diego were crowned with new successes. At Montreal 500 heretics DEATH OF DIEGO. 21 abjured their errors. A meeting of the legates and chief Catholics also took place at the same town, and another at Pamiers, when the increased courage and strength of the Catholic party were plainly visible, and some of the principal of the Albigenses made their submission with the most unequivocal marks of sincerity. After this last conference Diego turned his steps towards Spain, and, still travelling on foot, reached Osma, having been absent from his diocese exactly three years. He died before he could carry his intention of returning to France into execution; and thus he and Domnic never met again. He was the first of a long line of great men with whom the founder of the Friars Preachers was united in bonds of no common friendship, nor was he the least worthy of the number. So holy and stainless was the life he led, that even the heretics were wont to say of him in the words of blessed Jordan, that " it was impossible not to believe such a man predestined to eternal life, and that doubtless he was sent among them to be taught the true doctrine." It was his influence that had consolidated the weak and scattered elements of the Catholic party into a firm and united body, and his loss was felt by all to be that of a father and chief. Nay, it seemed as if his death dissolved in a moment the tie which had bound them together. They were again scattered, each in different directions, and a few weeks after the news of his friend's death reached the ears of Dominic, he found himself alone. We cannot guess, or rather we can but guess, what kind of solitude that was when the work remained to do, but the fellow-labourers, and he among them whose com- pany had been a brotherhood «f fourteen years, were gone. Yet Dominic was equal to the shock of that great lone- liness : he saw one after another of the missioners depart, the Spanish ecclesiastics to Spain, the Cistercians back to their abbey, but he remained firm and tranquil at the post where God had placed him. The sweetness of human, consolation had left it, but the will of God was clear as* ever, and that was the law of his life ; and if hitherto he ' had been displayed to the world as following rather in another's track, than as himself the originator of the 22 LIFE OP S. DOMINIC. enterprise in which be was engaged, it was for the test of a crisis like this to show him to the world in his true light. We have mentioned Fulk, bishop of Toulouse, as co-operating in the foundation of the convent of Prouille. His presence and influence in some degree supplied the loss which the Catholics had sustained by the death of Diego. Until his elevation to the episcopate, one of the greatest drawbacks to the Catholic cause had been the coldness and indifference of their own bishops; but the vigorous example of the new prelate roused many of his colleagues from their negligence, and infused new life into the ecclesiastical administration of the diocese. He was indeed in every way a remarkable man, one in whom the energy of human passion had been, not laid aside, but transformed and sanctified by the influence of grace. Not many years before, he had been known to the world only as a brilliant courtier, a successful cultivator of the "gaie science," the very embodiment of the Provengal character. The world spoiled him for a time, and then deserted him ; or we might rather say that God haL de- termined to draw to Himself a soul too noble for the world's spoiling. Deaths came one after another to strip his life of everthing that made it desirable ; then there followed that period of bitter conflict and agony which precedes the putting off of the old nature ; and when it was over, Provence had lost her gayest troubadour, and Fulk was a monk in the abbey of Citeaux. In 1206 he was raised to the bishopric of Toulouse, and in that capa- city his energy and enthusiasm of character was of special service in animating the chilled and timorous spirit of his colleagues. Towards Dominic and his companions he was ever a liberal benefactor. And indeed there was need of some support in the position in which the departure and death of Diego bid left his friend. He was not only alone, but alone just as .the difficulties of the cause to which he was bound were about to be increased tenfold by the horrors of civil war. This conflict, associated as it was with the religious contest in which he was engaged, could scarcely fail to entangle him in something of its confusion: so at least DOMINIO AT NARBONNE. 23 it would J seem, if we remember that the war was that crusade against the Albigenses, which history has per- sisted in linking with the name of Dominic. The reader of his life who comes full of this prepossession, will turn to the chapter of the Albigensian crusade with the natural expectation of finding there the most striking details of the man he has been accustomed to think of as its hero. Whereas it is literally true that it is just during the ten years of the Albigensian war that we find least record of Dominic's life, so far as the world knew it. He had a life, and a work, but one so wholly distinct from the conflict that was raging around him, that it has hidden him from sight. Here and there we find a trace of him, but in no case are those scattered notices connected with any of the warlike or political movements of the times. They are the anecdotes of an apostolic life, whose course has been thus briefly sketched by Blessed Humbert in a few lines : " After the return of the bishop Diego to his dio- cese," he says, " S. Dominic, left almost alone with a few companions who were bound to him by no vow, during ten years upheld the Catholic faith in different parts of the province of Narbonne, particularly at Carcassona and at Fanjeaux. He devoted himself entirely to the salvation of souls by the ministry of preaching, and he bore with a great heart a multitude of affronts, ignominies, and suf- ferings for the name of Jesus Christ." And this is all. The few details preserved of these ten years of suffering and silent work will disappoiut any who look for stirring pictures of the crusade. Some trait of humility and patience exhibited amid the insults of his enemies, — or, it may be, a few words redolent with the spirit of prayer and trust in God, which have come down in the tradition of ages, or the record of miracles, worked, like those of the Master whose steps he followed, as he went up and down the hills of Narbonne, and among the towns and villages, preaching the faith, and seeking* for the sheep that were lost, — this is all we find. There is an evan- gelical sweetness of simplicity about these broken notices of his life, which, coming in the midst of the troubled and bloody history of the period, sounds like the rich notes of 24 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. a thrush's song falling on the ear between the intervals of a thunder-storm, — lost every now and then, and hushed by the angry roll of the elements, then sounding sweetly again in the stillness when the storm is over. We shall give them as we find them, in their proper place, but it is necessary first of all to notice very briefly some of those events which followed on the departure of Diego of Azevedo, and which plunged the southern provinces of France into the bloody contest of which we have spoken. It will be remembered, that among the legates and missioners whom Dominic and Diego met. at Montpellier, on their first entrance on the mission, mention was made of Peter de Castelnau, against whom the hatred of the heretics had been so strongly evinced, that he had been persuaded for some time to withdraw from the enterprise. Something of severity and harshness in his character may probably account for the peculiar vindictiveness of which he was the object. He had often been used to say, that religion would never raise its head in Languedoc till the soil had been watered with the blood of a martyr ; and his constant prayer was, that he himself might be the victim. It was even as he desired. Count Raymond of Toulouse, the sovereign of the distracted provinces, had been the constant but not always the avowed protector of the Albigenses during the whole period of his govern- ment. Again and agai*, in reply to the pressing en- treaties of the Holy See, he had promised to use his authority to suppress their disorders, and to defend the property and liberty of the Catholics ; and again and again, when the dread of excommunication was with- drawn, he had failed to fulfil his engagements. It is no part of history to asperse its characters with epithets of reproach. Count Raymond has been the hero of one party, and the object of unlimited abuse from the other ; but we may well content ourselves with such conclusions as may be drawn from facts which none have attempted to dispute. He had bound himself by solemn oaths to suppress those violent disorders, the frightful increase of which had opened the eyes of his predecessor, and forced from him the unwilling acknowledgment, that " the MURDER OP PETER DE CASTELNAU. 25 spiritual sword was no longer enough; the material sword was needed also." These oaths were made, and as often violated ; after incessant remonstrances, Peter de Castelnau, in his office of Papal legate, pronounced the final sentence of excommunication against him. The result was an earnest entreaty from the count to meet him at Saint Gilles, in order that by fresh submissions he might be once more reconciled to the Church. His request was agreed to, but it seemed impossible for Raymond to act with good faith. No sooner were the legates in his power, than he changed his tone of sub- mission, and naughtily threatened them with imprison- ment if they did not grant him the unconditional repeal of his sentence. Such threats were lightly felt by men who counted their lives as nothing in the cause in which they were engaged, and they answered him only with a stern reproof. Next day, as they stood by the rapid waters of the Rhone, on the banks of which they had passed the night, and which they were preparing to cross, two members of the count's household came up in pursuit of them, and one plunged his lance into the body of Peter de Castelnau. It was the death for which he had so often longed; he fell without a struggle, and summoned his departing strength to utter words worthy of a martyr. "May God pardon you," he said to his mur- derer; "as for me, I forgive you, — I forgive you;" then turning to his companion, "Keep the faith," he said, " and serve God's Church without fear, and without negligence;" and, with these words upon his lips, he died. When the news of this murder reached the ears of the Pope and the Catholic potentates of Europe, there seemed a unanimous feeling that all time for further treating with the heretics was at an end. Let us re- member, that the south of France had now been at their mercy for more than a century ; that during that time these atrocious wretches, whom Protestants are not ashamed to boast of as their ancestors in the faith, had ravaged the country like bandits, setting fire to churches, torturing priests and nuns, trampling under 26 LIFE OP S. DOMINIC. foot the holy Eucharist, and committing every violence most shocking to human feeling; and that during this century of crime the Church had opposed only her censures and her entreaties, sending among them mis- sionaries and preachers, but never unloosing the temporal sword. Nay, she had even interposed with peaceful measures when the civil arm was at length raised against them. Raymond of Toulouse, the predecessor of the present count, and himself a favourer of the heretics, had at length become aware of the danger threatened to his own government, and to the very existence of all law, by their continued excesses. Too late he strove to check the evil he had fostered, but he found the task was far beyond his strength. In his terror he wrote to the French king a memorable letter, which, as coming from his pen, may fairly be received as impartial testimony, "Our churches," he says, "are in ruins, penance is despised, the Holy Eucharist is held in abomination, all the sacraments are rejected — yet no one thinks of offering any resistance to these wretches." He then makes an earnest appeal to the king for assistance, and would have obtained it had not the reigning Pontiff, Alexander III., interfered, and proposed once more to try the effect of an ecclesiastical mission before harsher measures were adopted. But however well fitted a legation of monks and preachers might be for the suppression of theological errors, it scarcely had the strength necessary for deliver- ing Languedoc from its swarms of bandits. The sufferings of the country were not simply doctrinal : Stephen, abbot of S. Genevieve, sent to Toulouse by the king, and an eye-witness of what he describes, gives us a picture of the state of things in his time in a few words which occur in one of his letters: "I have seen," he says, "churches burnt and ruined to their foundations; I have seen the dwellings of men changed into the dens of beasts." Is it any wonder, therefore, that after these terrible disorders had been endured for more than a century, and opposed only by the weapons of eccle- siastical censures, the murder in cold blood of the Papal PROCLAMATION OF THE CRUSADE. 27 legate by the avowed leader of the Albigenses seemed to fill the measure of their iniquity? War at once burst out ; and surely if ever war is just, it must be deemed so when waged to defend society from outrage, and the faith from ruin. This at least we may affirm without in any way binding ourselves to vindicate the manner in which it was carried on, when men's passions and personal interests were once irretrievably engaged ; but we cannot think that the act which proclaimed the crusade against the Albigenses, after a century of for- bearance, can be condemned by any who will patiently go over that century's most melancholy history. — ooo — CHAPTER VI. Proclamation of the Crusade. Simon de Montfort. Dominic among the heretics. His apostolic labours The death of De Castelnau took place in the February of the year 1208. Early in the following month Pope Innocent addressed letters to the kings of Prance and England, and to the sovereign nobles of Prance, calling on them to lay aside their private quarrels, and join in an unanimous effort against " the rage of heresy." The crime of the Count of Toulouse was declared to be one which freed his subjects from their allegiance until such time as he would return to his own allegiance to the Church; and a new commission of bishops and abbots was appointed to preach the crusade, and undertake the ecclesiastical government of the country. In this commis- sion Dominic's name does not occur ; Arnold of Citeaux is the man charged with the chief burden of the whole undertaking, and his fiery and inflexible temper caused him to fulfil his charge with an unrelenting severity, which can never be excused. If indeed we had to make any religious body responsible for the severites of the crusade, it certainly seems as though the Cistercians had 28 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. done more to merit such a reproach than any other. We find their leader, Arnold, eagerly and zealously engaged in all the movements of the Catholic chiefs, often accom- panying them to the field and rousing the country to arms with the energy of his preaching. Every represen- tation of the progress of the war which reached the Pope came through him and his followers; and these repre- sentations seem, in more instances than one, to have been coloured by partiality, and to have misled the Pontiff whom they were intended to direct. For more than a year after the war first broke out, Arnold was the only acknowledged leader and director of the Catholic forces ; and the unfortunate plan of setting the two houses of Montfort and Toulouse in rivalry one against the other, as the means of destroying the latter by the vindictive- ness of a personal quarrel, was the invention of his own scheming brain. Yet this man, who really played so conspicuous a part in the history of his time, and who stands bound to every detail in those proceedings of which he was the animating spirit, is almost forgotten by Protestant historians and their readers, so eager are they to heap terms of reproach on one who had little or no share in them. Doubtless in their own day, Dominic Gusman was a very insignificant person compared to the legate, Arnold of Citeaux; but the Church, in her unerring justice, has raised one to her altars, and left the other to the mercy and indifference of future ages ; and this explains what would otherwise be an unaccountable phenomenon. Arnold of Citeaux, though a busy man in his time, is in no way a represen- tative of the Catholic Church; she has not identified herself with him, and so there is no good reason for attacking him and his order, and holding up their names for popular abuse, however deeply they were responsible for the excesses of the crusade. But it is quite another thing to vilify a Catholic saint. Dominic bears on his brow the indelible seal of the Church's canonization, and therefore no Protestant can touch on the history of the Albigensian war without assuring us that it was "preached by the infamous Dominic," with a thousand other like SIMON DE MONTFORT. 29 expressions which would give us to understand that he was the foremost character in the whole affair, but which are simply inexplicable to any one who, in studying his life, fiuds it his chief difficulty to come on any trace of him during this period. It must be acknowledged that the perpetual insinceri- ties of the Count of Toulouse render it difficult to follow, with anything like clearness, a history which shows him to us submitting to public penance in the church of S. Gilles in 1209, and swearing at the same time, on holy relics and the very body of our Lord, to drive away the heretic insurgents, to repair the churches, and replace the lawful bishops in their sees ; then a year afterwards, evading the^ demands of the council , held at the same place, which called on him to fulfil his engagements, and persisting in his refusal, even whilst he supplicates to be heard in justification of the accusations brought against him. A little while after, we find him at Toulouse, pre- paring to take up arms against the Catholic forces whom he had sworn to assist ; and, in return for this breach of faith, we have a touching and affectionate letter from Pope Innocent, calling on him once more to stand to his plighted word. Then more conferences and more eva- sions. In 1211, at a meeting held at Montpellier, he seems about to yield, but suddenly leaves the city with- out a word of explanation. Then at length the thunder of excommunication falls on his head a second time ; and the war begins in earnest. Raymond had the powerful protection of his brother- in-law, the king of Arragon, together with many of the territorial lords of the south. The power of the crusaders under the leadership of Count Simon de Montfort was certainly in no overwhelming disproportion, and, we are told, more than a thousand cities and towns were in the hands of the heretics. Two of these towns, Beziers and Carcassona, had yielded to the Catholic confederates, after a bloody contest at the very commencement of the war, and before the final rupture with Raymond. The cruelties practised on the inhabitants of the former, and the pillage of the latter, gave a vindictive character to the 30 LIFE OP S. DOMINIC. very .opening of the campaign. For the enormities per- petrated by the heretics had lashed the Catholics of Lauguedoc to fury; and when the day of retribution came, and vengeance was in the power of men who had so long suffered the worst injuries without redress, it broke out into the usual excesses. There is no tempta- tion to justify such excesses, yet surely there is an astonishing unfairness, may we not say an astonishing hypocrisy, in those who can find no words to express their horror at the slaughter of Beziers, yet forget the tortures of helpless women, the profanation of holy things, the murders and oppressions of the century which had passed, the reollection of which was doubtless too terribly alive in the minds of the crusaders for them to find such mercy in their hearts for those who were in turn their victims. Where was Dominic all this time ? Some of his his- torians gave the year 1207 as the date of the foundation of his order ; inasmuch as it wae then that he took the command of that little company of missionaries who re- mained with him after the departure of Diego. But they were bound to him by no other tie than a common in- terest ; and the only ground for the supposition seems to be, that they lived together in a kind of community-life, and were known by the name of the Preaching Brothers. It does not, however, seem that they had anything of the formation of a regular religious body, and probably no plan for such a formation had yet been clearly developed in Dominic's own mind. Of their manner of life we can form some notion from those scattered anecdotes which are all that are left us. Even amid the hottest period of the war, it was the same as it had ever been ; they went about barefoot from village to village preaching the faith. The only commission which Dominic held, was the origi- nal one he possessed in virtue of that first legation to which he and Diego had been associated before the cru- sade began. It gave him the power of reconciling heretics, and receiving them to penance, an office which has ac- quired him the title of the first Inquisitor. If by this is meant that the office of the Inquisition, as afterwards constituted, was established at this tim,e such title is DOMINIC AMONG THE HERETICS. 31 certainly an error ; no such office existed before the Lateran ■Council of 1215, and it was not until 1230, nine years after the death of Dominic, that the Council of Toulouse gave it a new form, and intrusted a large share of its government to the recently instituted order of Friars Preachers. It is singular also, that the first commission for denouncing heretics to the civil magistrate was granted to the Cistercians. But, on the other hand, there is no doubt that the commission of reconciling heretics, held by S. Dominic, was the germ from which the Inquisition afterwards sprang ; and so Dominic may be called the first Inquisitor, in the same sense as the Marquis of Worcester is called the inventor of the steam-engine, or Roger Bacon the discoverer of gunpowder ; without supposing that the marvels of a cotton-mill, or the broadside of a three-decker, ever crossed the imagination of either.* His chief residence was at Fanjeaux and Carcassona. Fanjeaux he chose for its proximity to Notre Dame de Prouille, and Carcassona for another reason. " Why do you not live in Toulouse, or the diocese?" was a question one day asked him. " I know many people in Toulouse," he replied, " and they show me respect ; but at Carcassona, every one is against me." They certainly were: it was * It is no part of the plan which we have laid down for ourselves, to enter at any length into the vexed question of the character or the Inquisition. But we cannot resist referring to one authority, quoted by Pere Lacordaire, in his well-known " Memorial to the French People," whose partiality can scarcely be questioned. It is from the Keport presented to the Cortes, on the character of that tribunal, which was followed by its suppression, and bears the date of 1 81 2. Considering thatit proceeded from the party most violently opposed to the Inquisition, and whose political successors, the Pro- gressistas of Spain, have succeeded in abolishing all religious orders in that country, its testimony is of peculiar value. " The early Inquisitors," they say, " encountered heresy with no other arms than those of prayer, patience, and instruction ; and this remark applies more particularly to S. Dominic, as we are assured by the Bollandists, with Echard and Touron. Philip II. was the real "founder of the Inquisition." For a minute and careful account of the change introduced into the character of the tribunal by the royal influence, we must refer the reader to the celebrated work of Baimez, on " Protestantism and Catholicity compared in their Effects on the civilization of Europe.'* 32 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. their diversion to treat the humble barefooted friar who was to be seen about their streets as a fool; rather let us say, they gave the truest testimony to his likeness to his Lord by the likeness of their treatment of him. They were wont to follow him, throwing dirt at him and spit- ting in his face; tying straws to his cloak and hat, and pursuing him with shouts of derisive laughter. He never seemed to heed them, or to let the singular quietude of his soul be once disturbed by these affronts. Sometimes their insults were accompanied with blasphemous oaths and threats of death : "I am' not worthy of martyrdom," was the only answer they were able to draw from him. He was warned once of a party of heretics who lay in ambush in a certain place to assassinate him. He treated the information with his usual indifference, and passed by the place singing hymns with a joyful aspect. The heretics, who were probably not prepared for the actual execution of their threat, accosted him on their next meeting in their usual style. " And so thou dost not fear death? tell us, what wouldst thou have done if thou hadst fallen into our hands?" Then the great and cou- rageous spirit of Dominic spoke in a memorable reply: " I would have prayed you," he said, "not to have taken my life at a single blow, but little by little, cutting off each member of my body, one by one ; and when you had done that, you should have plucked out my eyes, and then have left me so, to prolong my torments, and gain me a richer crown." It is said that this reply so confounded his enemies, that for some time afterwards they left him unmolested, being convinced that to persecute such a man was to give him the only consolation he desired. The place of the intended attempt on his life is still shown, half-way between Prouille and Fanjeaux, and its name " Al Sicari," in the dialect of the country, commemorates the event. On another occasion a great conference was appointed to be held with the heretics, at whieh one of the neigh- bouring bishops (who, some writers tell us, was Fulk of Toulouse) was to attend. He came in great pomp, to the great displeasure of Dominie. " Then the humble herald DOMINIC AMONG THE HERETICS. 33 of God spoke to him, and said, ' My father, it is not thus that we must act against this generation of pride. The enemies of the truth must rather be convinced by the example of humility and patience, than by the pomp and grandeur of worldly show. Let us arm ourselves with prayer and humility, and so let us go barefooted against these Goliaths.' " *The bishop complied with his wishes, and they all took off their shoes, and went to meet the heretics singing psalms upon the way. Now, as they were not sure of their road, they applied to a man whom they met and believed to be a Catholic, but who was in truth a concealed and bitter heretic; and who offered to be their guide to the place of meeting, with no other design than that of embarrassing and annoying them. He led them, therefore, through a thorny wood, where the rough stones and briers tore their naked feet, and caused them to dye the ground with their blood. The bishop and his suite were a little disconcerted at this, but Dominic encouraged them to persevere. Joyous and patient as ever, he exhorted his comrades to give thanks for their sufferings, saying, " Trust in God, my beloved ; the victory is surely ours, since our sins are expiated in blood ; ' is it not written, ' How beautiful are the feet of them who bring the gospel of peace?' " Then he intoned a joyful hymn, and the hearts of his companions took courage, and they also sang with him ; and the heretic, when he witnessed the patience and courage of the saint, was touched to the heart, and, falling at his feet, confessed his malice, and abjured his heresy. As we have said, these anecdotes of Dominic's apostolic life in Languedoc can hardly be given in successive order as they occurred ; the most ancient writers tell us only in general terms, that during this time he suffered many affronts from his enemies, and overcame their wiles by his patience, giving these disconnected stories without anything to guide us as to the particular times when they happened. One anecdote, however, in which the miraculous powers of the saint are first exhibited to us, is given with greater exactness. It was in 1211, whilst * Theodoric of Apoldia. D 34 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. the crusaders were under the walls of Toulouse, and just after open hostilities had for the first time broken out with Count Raymond, that the course of Dominic's apostolic wanderings led him to the bank of the river Garrone. Whilst he was there, a band of English pil- grims also arrived in the neighbourhood. They were about forty in number, bound to the shrine of S. James of Compostella. In order to avoid the town, which lay under the Papal interdict, they took a boat to cross the river ; but the boat, being small and overladen, was upset, and all those who were in it sank to the bottom. Dominic was praying in a small church which stood near the scene of the accident, but the cries of the sufferers and some of the soldiers who saw their danger roused him from his devotions. He came to the river's bank, but not one of the pilgrims was to be seen. Then he prostrated him- self on the earth in silent prayer, and, rising full of a lively faith, " I command you," he cried, " in the name of Jesus Christ, to come to the shore alive and unhurt." Instantly the bodies rose to the surface, and with the help of the soldiers, who flung them their shields and lances, they all safely reached the bank, praising God and his servant Dominic. Several other miracles are related as having happened at this period, they are the only footprints left us of his apostolic journeys over Languedoc. At one time we hear of him dropping his books into the river Ariege as he forded it on foot, and after three days they are recovered by a fisherman, and found perfectly dry and uninjured. At another time he is crossing the same river in a little boat, and being landed on the opposite shore, finds he has no money to pay the boatman. The boatman insisted on his fare: "I am," said Dominic, " a follower of Jesus Christ ; I carry neither gold nor silver ; God will pay you the price of my passage." But the boatman, being angry, laid hold of his cloak, saying, " You will either leave your cloak with me, or pay me my money." Dominic, raising his eyes to heaven, entered for a moment into prayer; then, looking on the ground, he showed the man a piece of silver which lay there, which Providence had sent, and HIS APOSTOLIC LABOURS. 35 said to him, " My brother, there is what you ask, take it, and suffer me to go my way." Cardinal Ranieri Capocci, who lived during the time of S. Dominic, in a sermon preached shortly after his canon- ization, relates the following fact which had come to his own knowledge. A certain religious chanced to be the companion of the saint on a journey of some days, but being of another country, and neither of them under- standing the language of the other, they were unable to hold any conversation together. Desiring very much, however, to profit by the time he should spend in his society, this religious secretly prayed to God that, for the three days they should be together, they might be intel- ligible to one another, each speaking in his own tongue, and this favour was granted until they reached their journey's end. We read also that, after a night spent in long disputes with the heretics, Dominic left the place of conference in company with a Cistercian monk, and de- sired to retire into a neighbouring church, in order, according to his custom, to spend the remainder of the night in prayer. They found the doors locked, and were therefore obliged to kneel outside. But scarcely had they done so, than, without being able to say how, they found themselves before the high altar inside the church, and remained there until break of day. In the morning the people found them there, and crowding together, brought them the sick and infirm in great numbers to be healed. Among these were several possessed persons, whom the holy father was intreated to restore by his touch. He took a stole, and fastened it on his shoulders as if about to vest for mass ; then throwing it around the necks of the possessed, they were immediately delivered. These miracles, some of which are mentioned in the process of his canonization, were commonly known and talked of both by the crusaders and by the people of Toulouse. Among the latter their effect was sensibly felt, and in no sniall degree aided the success of his preaching. Yet the marvels produced by his simple elo- quence were, perhaps, as great in their way as those directly supernatural gifts communicated to him by God. d 2 36 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. One day, as he prayed in the church of Fanjeaux, nine women who until then had been of the heretical sect, came to him, and threw themselves at his feet in great anguish. "Servant of God," they cried, "if what you preached to us this morning is true, we have till now been living in horrible darkness ; therefore have compas- sion on us, and teach us how we may be saved." The holy man looked on them with a bright and cheerful countenance, and comforted them with words of hope. Then he prayed awhile, and turning to them bade them be of good heart, and not be afraid of what they should see. Scarcely had he spoken, when they saw in the midst of them a hideous animal, of a ferocious and hor- rible aspect. It fled from among them, and seemed to escape from the church through the bell-tower. The women were greatly terrified, but Dominic spoke and re- assured them. " God has shown you, my daughters," he said, " how terrible is the devil whom till now you have served; thank Him, therefore, for the evil one has from this moment no more power over you." These women, who were all of noble birth, he afterwards caused to bo instructed in the faith, and received into the monastery of Prouille. Miracles and preaching, however, are not the only means, scarcely the most powerful, by which the saints of God extend the kingdom of their Master. The silent eloquence of a holy life has a larger apostolate than the gifts of tongues or of healing ; and we find some re- cords of the harvest of souls which were gathered to the faith solely by the example of the servant of God. There were living, near Toulouse, some noble ladies who had been led to join the heretics, being seduced into this error by the show of pretended austerity which their preachers affected. Dominic, who had their conversion greatly at heart, determined to preach there that Lent; and, going thither with one companion, it chanced, by the providence of God, that they were received to lodge in the house occupied by these ladies. He remained there during the whole time of his stay, and they saw with wonder the reality of that life of penance which differed so widely from the empty professions of the heretics. The soft HIS APOSTOLIC LABOURS. 37 beds which had been prepared for them were never used, for Dominic and his companion slept upon the ground. Their food was scarcely touched; until Easter time they took only bread and water, and that in scanty measure. Their nights were spent in prayer and austerities, their days in labours for God; and so new and wonderful did this life seem to those who beheljd it, that it opened their eyes to the truth of the faith which inspired it ; and the whole household made their recantation in his hands be- fore the time of his stay was ended. In after days he was often accustomed to exhort his brethren to this, as the best method of preaching, reminding them that it was by good works, and by the outward habit, even more than by holy words, that we must let our light shine before men to the glory of God. It was this singular holiness of life which endeared him so wonderfully to all those among whom he was thrown. Three times the episcopal dignity was offered to him, but he refused it with a kind of horror. He was used to say he would rather go away by night with nothing but his staff than accept any office or dignity. He could not, however, succeed in avoiding a temporary appointment as vicar to Guy, bishop of Carcassona, during the time that the latter was absent from his diocese preaching the cru- sade, and gathering together fresh forces to join the army of the Count de Montfort. He held this charge during the Lent of the year 1213, during which time he resided in the episcopal palace, and discharged all the duties of the office, without, however, suffering them to interfere with his customary occupation of preaching and instruct- ing in the faith. During this Lent we again find him spoken of as fasting on bread and water, and sleeping on the ground. "When Easter came," says his historian, " he seemed stronger and more vigorous than before, and of a better aspect." We may remark in this appointment, how entirely distinct Dominic's mission was from the military or political affairs in which many other of the Catholic clergy and prelates took their share. So far from being himself the preacher of the crusade, we see him taking the place and duties of another who is engaged 33 1.1? £ OF 8. DOMINIC. in that undertaking, as if the purely spiritual character (f his ministry were generally recognised. Once, and once only, do we find his name in any way associated vith any of the judicial severities of the time; it is in an anecdote given by Theodoric of Apoldia, hut it will be hard to draw from it the conclusion that Dominic was the bloody persecutor represented in popular fiction ; for as we shall see, his part was to release, and not to condemn the prisoner in question. " Some heretics," says the his- torian, " having been taken and convicted in the country of Toulouse, were given over to secular judgment, because they refused to return to the faith, and were condemned to the Haines. Dominic looked at one of them with a heart to which were revealed the secrets of God, and said to the officers of the court, ' Put that man aside, and see well that no harm befall him.' Then, turning to the heretic, he said with great sweetness, 'My son, I know that you must have time, but you will at length become a saint.' Wonderful to relate, this man remained for twenty years longer in the blindness of heresy, till at length, touched by the grace of God, he renounced his errors, and died in the habit of the Friars Preachers, with the reputation of sanctity." The presence of Dominic at this execution will be un- derstood, if we remember that, before the diliverance of any heretic to the secular arm for punishment, every effort was made, by the exhortations of persons appointed for that purpose, to convince them of their errors, and reconcile them to the Church; in which case their sen- tence was rescinded, and they were admitted to canonical penance. This course was always followed in the later proceedings of the Inquisition; the part of the Church was to reconcile and convince, and not to condemn; in the instance just quoted, we might call it to pardon. This office was exercised by Dominic in virtue of the powers he held from the Papal legates; two letters prov- ing this fact are giving us by Echard, but have no date attached, although there is little doubt they belong to this period of his life. They are as follows: "To all the faith- ful in Christ to whom these presents may come, Brother 39 HIS APOSTOLIC LABOURS. Dominic, canon of Osma, the Humble minister of preach- ing, wishes health and charity in the Lord. We make known to your discretion, that we have permitted Ray- mund William de Hauterive Pelaganira to receive into his house of Toulouse, to live there after the ordinary life, William Huguecion, whom he has declared to us to have hitherto worn the habit of the heretics. We per- mit this until such time as it shall be otherwise ordered either to him or to me by the Lord Cardinal ; and this shall not in any way turn to his dishonour or prejudice." If it seems singular to us in those days that a written permission was necessary in order to allow any man to receive into his house a reconciled heretic, we must re- member the double character attaching to these people. They were not merely heretics, but the disturbers of the public peace; and, as the authors of every kind of outrage against society, it is not singular that some kind of pledge for their future good conduct was reasonably demanded. The other letter is of a severer character ; it is as fol- lows : " To all the faithful in Christ to whom these pre- sents may come, Brother Dominic, canon of Osma, wishes health in the Lord. By the authority of the Lord Abbot of Citeaux, who has committed to us this office, we have reconciled to the Church the bearer of these presents, Ponce Royer, converted by the grace of God from heresy to the faith ; and we order, in virtue of the oath which he has taken to us, that during three Sundays or feast- days he shall go to the entrance of the village, bare to the waist, and be struck with rods by the priest. We also order him to abstain for ever from flesh, eggs, cheese, and all which comes from flesh, except at Easter, Pentecost, and Christmas, when he shall eat some to protest against his former errors. He shall keep three Lents each year, fasting and abstaining from fish, unless from bodily infir- mity or the heat of the weather he shall be dispensed. He shall dress in religious habit, as well in the form as in the colour, t© the ends of which shall be hung two little crosses. Every day, if possible, he shall hear mass, and he shall go to vespers on festival days. Seven times 40 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. a day he shall recite ten " Pater Nosters," and lie shall say twenty in the middle of the night. He shall observe chastity, and once a month he shall, in the morning, pre- sent this paper to the Chaplain of the village of Cere. We desire this Chaplain to have great care that his peni- tent lead a holy life, and observe all we have said until the lord legate shall otherwise ordain. If he neglect to do so through contempt, we will that he be excommuni- cated as perjured and heretic, and be separated from the society of the faithful." Such was still the Church's discipline in the thirteenth century. We who live in days when that discipline has been gradually, though reluctantly, relaxed, because of the relaxing love and faith of penitents, are amazed at its severity : we are even disposed to lay the responsi- bility of its seeming harshness on the head of him who pronounced the sentence. But Dominic was in no way the legislator in such a case as this : he was simply the executor and dispenser of the Church's law. The above diploma is one of those monumental records of canonical penances which we occasionally find preserved in the course of history, and which when so stumbled on are almost invariably rocks of offence to those who are accustomed to look on a litany, or a ' Salve Regina,' as a reasonable penance for the sins of a life. The ac- cumulation of indulgences in modern times ought surely to have its significance to such minds. In those days, men really performed the penances which are now dis- pensed. The rod which descends so gently on the head of the wandering stranger in the Roman basilicas, — that ghost of the ancient penitential discipline, — fell with a hearty earnestness on the shoulders of our fathers; and we cannot too often remind ourselves, by means of such documents as that we have just read, of a difference which should cover us with humiliation for the feeble- ness of modern penitence, rather than send us to criticize the severity with which the Church has ever looked on sin. CHAPTER VII. The institution of the Kosary. The Council of Lavaur. The battle of Muret. We have given a few anecdotes of the life led by Dominic during a time when war and bloodshed were raging around him. They are all that are left us to mark his course for many years. But it was during this time, though it would be difficult to affix the precise date, that he propagated that celebrated devotion which would alone entitle its author to our veneration, did we know him in no other way than as the first institutor of the Rosary. The universal voice of tradition affirms this devotion to have been revealed to him by the Blessed Virgin herself; and if we consider its almost super- natural character, combining as it does the simplest prayers with the profoundest meditations, or again if we remember the extraordinary power with which it has been blessed, and its adoption through the universal Church as the very alphabet of prayer, it is difficult for us not to believe it something more than a human invention, but rather as a gift which came to us as the most precious token of the love of our dear Mother. Although, however, there is ample ground for this belief, the details of any such revelation have not been pre- served to us for the circumstantial accounts of the giving of the Rosary, which are so popular with later writers, are not to be found in any of the more ancient authors, who leave the date and the manner of its first institution in obscurity.* Dominic's life during these years was, for the most part, a lonely and hidden one: * Local tradition declares the sanctury of Notre Dame de Dreche, near Albi, to have been the scene of the vision of our Lady ; it is certain that this sanctury first attained celebrity during the Albi- gensian troubles, and was one of the favourite resorts of fc>. Dominic in the course of his apostolic labours. 42 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. his communications with heaven remained locked within his own breast ; for it was not with him as with so many other saints, on whom a hundred busy eyes were always fixed to mark every indication of supernatural grace, every phenomenon, if we may so say, of their ecstacy and prayer : his own lips were the only source from whence the secret favours of God could ever have been made known, and they certainly were the last which were ever likely to speak of them to another. We again remark in the institution of the Rosary something of that characteristic feature of S. Dominie to which we have before alluded. It was not altogether a new devotion. There was nothing novel in the frequent repetition of the " Angelical Salutation," or the " Pater Noster :" such devotion had been common in the Cnureh from time immemorial, and we read of the hermits of the deserts, counting such prayers with little stones, in the same way as we use the beads. The novelty was the association of mental and vocal prayer in those mys- teries, which gather together, under fifteen heads, all the history of the life of Christ. This working out of the materials which lay before him, and which others had used before him, is the peculiarity of which we "have spoken. It is the distinctive humility of our Saint. If we reflect on the way in which all his greatest actions were performed, we may safely say, that they came from a soul in which the petty desire of personal reputation, of making a noise in the world, of being known as the founder of an institution, or the originator of a noble thought, was never felt. Nay, if we may so say, there is something which perpetually reminds us of our Lord's own way of working; when He took His parables and similitudes from the common things before His eyes, and was content to let His Church grow out of the relics of Judaism, as its visible temples may sometimas be seen standing among the ruins of heathen fanes, converting all their beauty to a sacred use. In all S. Dominic's institutions we see this unconsciousness of self, which is an evidence of the highest class of mind, and it is probably from this cause that, in the commencement of INSTITUTION OF THE ROSARY. 43 all of them, there is an obscurity and uncertainty ?f date which is rarely found to attach to the inventions of human genius. We may, however, consider it as certain that the Rosary had begun to be propagated before the year 1213, as we are assured that it was used by the soldiers of the Count de Montfort's army before the battle of Muret, which took place in that year. Many stories are told of the wonders which followed on its first adoption. Some de- spised it, and ridiculed its use ; among whom was one of the bishops of the country of Toulouse, who, hearing the Rosary preached by S. Dominic, spoke of it afterwards with contempt, saying it was only fit for women and children. He was soon convinced of his error ; for shortly afterwards, falling into great persecution and calumnies, he seemed in a vision to see himself plunged into thick mire from which there was no way of escape. Raising his eyes, he saw above him the forms of our Lady and S. Dominic, who let down to him a chain made of a hundred and fifty rings, fifteen of which were gold; and laying hold of this he found himself safely drawn to dry land. By this he understood, that it was by means of the de- votion of the Rosary he should be delivered from his enemies, which shortly took place after he had devoutly commenced its use. Another similar story relates how a noble lady opposed the new confraternities of this devo- tion with all her power, but was converted by the follow- ing vision, which was granted to her one night in prayer. Being rapt in ecstasy, she saw an innumerable company of men and women, surrounded by a great splendour, who devoutly recited the Rosary together; and for every "Ave Maria" which they repeated, a beautiful star came forth from their mouths, and the prayers were written in a book in letters of gold. Then the Blessed Virgin spoke to her and said, " In this book are written the names of the brethren and sisters of my Rosary, but thy name is not written; and because thou hast persuaded many not to enter it, there shall befall thee a sickness for a time, which yet shall turn to thy salvation." The lady was soon after seized with sickness, and, recognizing the truth of the 44 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. prediction, she caused herself, on her recovery, to be in- scribed among the members of the confraternity. The spread of this devotion was the most successful weapon in the eradication of the Albigensian heresy. The child of ignorance, it fled before the light of truth; and as the mysteries of the faith were gradually brought back to the minds and hearts of the people, the mysteries of falsehood disappeared. The doctrine of the Incarnation, so specially commemorated in the Rosary, became then, as ever, the bulwark of the truth ; and wherever the sooiety was esta- blished, and the name of Mary was invoked, that name, as the Church sings, "alone destroyed all heresies." During the time that Dominic exercised the office of vicar to the Bishop of Carcassona, the position of the contending parties in Languedoc was considerably altered by the arrival of Peter, king of Arragon, who joined the forces of the Count of Toulouse with a powerful army. He was allied to the count by marriage, but had hitherto contented himself by negotiating in his favour with the court of Rome. In the beginning of the year 1213, however, a council was summoned at Lavaur, at which the king formally demanded from the legates and Catholic chiefs the restitution of the towns and lands which they had taken in the course of the war from the Count of Toulouse and the other nobles who had espoused .his cause, and their restoration to the communion of the Church. The council consented to admit the others on the terms proposed, but refused to include the Count of Toulouse, whose repeated perjuries and evasions had rendered him unworthy of trust. This answer was con- sidered by the king as an evidence that there was a re- solve to destroy the house of Toulouse, from motives of personal ambition on the part of the Count de Montfort ; and he, therefore, declared the family of Raymond under his protection, and appealed to the Holy See against the decision of the council. The legates, on their part, repre- sented to the Pope that the only chance of restoring peace to the distracted country was by the entire removal of the house of Toulouse, and the destruction of its heredi- tary power. The contradictory appeals and reports which COUNCIL OF LAVAUR. 45 were sent him, rendered it difficult for Innocent to judge in a cause involved every way in embarrassment. That he was very far from advocating unnecessary or undue severity towards Raymond and his family, we may gather from his own letters to the Count de Montfort, in which he urges him not to let the world think that he fought more for his own interests than for the cause of the faith. On the other hand, he complains, in a letter, that the king of Arragon has misled him as to the state of affairs, and enjoins him to proceed no further against the Count de Montfort, until the arrival of a cardinal whom he is about to despatch to the spot, to examine the whole question as his delegate. It was too late. Before the order arrived, the king had passed the Pyrenees, and, joining the troops of the Counts of Toulouse, Foix, and Comminges, prepared to advance against the army of the crusaders. Their position seemed indeed but gloomy, for the forces of the heretic leaders far outnumbered those of the Catholics. A lay brother of the Cistercians, who watched the progress of the war with painful interest, went in company with Stephen de Metz, another religious of the same order, to consult Dominic at this juncture A well knowing that God often revealed to him the secrets of coming events. "Will these evils ever have an end, Master Dominic?" asked the afflicted brother. He re- peated his question many times, but Dominic remained silent. At length he replied, " There will be a time when the malice of the men of Toulouse will have its end ; but it is far away ; and there will be much blood shed first, and a king will die in battle." Brother Stephen and the Cistercian interpreted this prediction to allude to Prince Louis of France, the son of Philip Augustus, who had joined the army of the crusaders in the previous February. "No," replied Dominic, "it will not touch the king of France : it is another king whose thread of life will be cut in the course of this war." This prophecy was very shortly to be accomplished, and Dominic himself was destined to be present on the spot where the decisive struggle took place which witnessed its fulfilment. Very shortly after uttering the prediction, he left Car- 46 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. cassona on the return of the bishop, intending to join a congress of the Catholic prelates and legates which was to be held at Muret. On the road thither he passed through the city of Castres, where the body of the martyr S. Vincent was preserved, for the veneration of the faith- ful. Entering the church, to pay his devotion at the shrine of the saint, he remained so late that the prior of the collegiate canons of Castres, who w r as his host for the time, despatched one of the brethren to call him to din- ner. The brother obeyed, but on going into the church, he saw Dominic raised in the air in ecstasy before the altar ; and not daring to disturb him, he returned to the prior, who himself hastened to the spot, and beheld the spectacle with his own eyes. So forcible was the impres- sion it left on his mind of the sanctity of the man of God, that shortly after he joined himself to him, and was one of those who formed the first foundation of the order. This was the celebrated Matthew of France, afterwards the prior of the convent of S. James in Paris, and the first and last who ever bore the title of abbot among the Friars Preachers. After this incident, Dominic proceeded on his road to Muret. It was on the 10th of September of the same year, that the king of Arragon suddenly appeared before the walls of this place, with an army, according to some writers, of 100,000 men, or, as others more probably state, of 40,000. The intelligence of his approach reached De Montfort at Fanjeaux. It seems probable that this hostile movement took the Catholic chieftain by surprise; for only a few weeks previously, he had been invited to a friendly con- ference by the king, and so little was he prepared for any active measures at the time (owing to the pending nego- tiations with the Roman court), that he had no more than 800 horse, and a small number of men-at-arms with him, with which to come to the relief of the besieged. To oppose so contemptible a force to the army of the king, seemed little less than madness, yet he never hesitated. On the day following that on which the news reached him, he set out from Fanjeaux, taking with him the bishops and legates, amongst whom was Fulk, bishop of BATTLE OF MURET. 47 Toulouse, -with the intention of at least attempting a pacific settlement before the last appeal to arms. He stopped on his way at the Cistercian monastery of Bol- bonne, and going into the church, laid his sword on the altar, as though to commend his cause to God, and remained for some time in prayer ; then taking back his sword, as now no longer his, but God's, he proceeded to Saverdun, where he spent the night in confession and preparation for death. His little company of followers did the same, and on the morning of the following day they all com- municated, as* men who were about to offer their lives as a sacrifice. Some authors tells us that Dominic was pre- sent with the other legates and ecclesiastics in the army ; others name him as being in their company only at Muret ; but it seems probable that he had joined them previously, and if the current tradition is the correct one, that the crusaders ascribed their subsequent victory to the particular assistance of Mary, whom they had united to invoke in the prayers of the Rosary, we may well be- lieve that this appeal to our Lady of Victories came from his counsel and exhortation. The army reached Muret on the side of the town opposite to that where the forces of the king of Arragon were drawn up; but, before en- tering the gates, the bishops were dispatched with pro- positions of peace to the enemy's camp. A contemptuous sarcasm was the only reply they received, and returning to the army they all entered Muret together. But they determined on one more effort, and very early in the morning dispatched another message to the king, to the effect that they would wait upon him barefoot, to bring about the terms of reconciliation. They were preparing to execute this design, when a body of cavalry attacked the gates ; for the king had ordered the advance, without even deigning a reply to this second embassy. The scene that morning within the walls of Muret was surely a religious one. Eight hundred devoted men, for- tified by prayer and the sacraments of reconciliation, were about, as it seemed to human judgment, to lay down their lives as a sacrifice for the faith. There might be seen how the holy sacrifice was celebrated iu the presence of 48 LIFE OF S. DOM&IC. tliein all ; and how, when the Bishop of Uzes turned to say the last "Dominus vobiscum," De Montfort knelt before him, clad in armour, and said, " And I consecrate my blood and life for God and His faith ;" and how the swords and shields of the combatants were once more offered on the altar; and when it was over, and the horse- men were gathering together, and the very sound of the attack was at the gates, these men all once more dis- mounted, and bent their knee to venerate and kiss the crucifix, extended to them by the Bishop of Toulouse. He had come to give them his parting words and blessing. Did his voice falter, or his eye grow dim at the spectacle before him ? Something there certainly was of human emotion at that moment which history does not notice; for we are told it was not he, but the Bishop of Com- minges who stood by his side, that spoke the last charge to the army, and, taking the crucifix from the hands of Fulk, solemnly blessed them as they knelt. Then they rode out to battle, and the ecclesiastics turned back into the church to pray. Nothing more heroic is to be found in the whole history of chivalry, than this battle of Muret. It was a single charge. They rode through the open gates, and after a feigned movement of retreat, they suddenly turned rein, and dashed right on the ranks of their opponents, with the impetuosity of a mountain-torrent. Swift as light- ning they broke through the troops that opposed their onward course, scattering them before their horses' hoofs with something of supernatural energy, nor did they draw bridle till they reached the centre of the army where the king himself was stationed, surrounded by the flower of his nobles and followers. A moment's fierce struggle ensued; but the fall of the king decided the fortune of the day. Terrified by the shock of that tremendous charge, as it hurled itself upon them, the whole army fled in panic. The voice and example of their chief might again have rallied them, but that was wanting; Peter of Arragon lay dead on the field, and Dominic's prophecy was fulfilled. BATTLE OF MURET. 49 And where was he meanwhile? and what place has this page of chivalry in the annals of his apostolic life ? The flash of swords, and the tramp of those galloping steeds, startle us strangely from the story of his quiet, lonely wanderings over the mountains, filling their echoes with the sound of his hymns and litanies, as he goes about to preach. Where are we to look for him in such a scene ? Protestant writers are ready enough to tell us he was at the head of the Crusaders, carrying a crucifix, and urging them on to slaughter. We must be suffered to think, however, that neither in the schools of Palencia, nor in the canonry of Osma, could he have fitted himself for such a post as the leader of a cavalry charge whose equal is scarce to be found in history. Yet the battle of Muret forms part of the story of Dominic's life ; he had his place there ; for that one moment, and, so far as history gives us any token, for that one alone, he was brought in contact with the stormy scenes of the Crusade. He had his place; but, to find it, we must leave the battle-field, and go back to the church of Muret, where a different sight will greet us. When the Christian knights were ridden forth to the battle, the churchmen had gone before the altar to pray. They had sent their comrades, as it seemed, to certain death ; and their prayer had in it the anguish of supplication. Prostrate on the pavement, which they bathed with their tears, they poured out their souls to "God. F. Bernard, of the Order of Preachers, who lived in Toulouse at the beginning of the following century, and who wrote whilst the memory of these events was still fresh in the minds of the people, thus describes them : " Then going into the church, they prayed, raising their hands to heaven, and beseeching God for His servants who were exposed to death for His sake, with such great groans, and cries, that it seemed not that they prayed, but rather howled."* * A very popular tradition has represented S. Dominic as ascend- ing one of the towers on the wall, and displaying the crucifix for the encouragement of the Christian troops. This assertion has been supported by the exhibition, in later ages, at Toulouse, of a crucifix pierced all over with arrows, which is supposed to have been the E 50 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. But from this agonizing suspense they were roused by the shouts of the populace. The cry of victory sounded in their ears ; they hastened to the walls, and beheld the plain covered with the flying companies of the heretics. Some plunged into the waters of the Garonne and perished in their armour ; others trampled their own comrades to death in the confusion of their flight ' r many died under the swords of the Crusaders. It is computed that no fewer than 20,000 of the heretic forces were slain, whilst we are assured by all authorities that eight only of the Catholics fell during the combat of that day. As the Count de Montfort rode over that victorious field he checked his horse by the bleeding and trampled body of the king of Arragon. De Montfort had some of the failings, but all the virtues, of his order : he was cast in the heroic type of Christian chivalry. Descending from his horse, he kissed the body with tears, and gave orders for its honourable interment, as became a gallant enemy ; then, returning barefoot to Muret, he went first to the church to return thanks to God, and gave the horse and armour with which he had fought to the poor. It was a true picture of the ages of faith. We need scarcely be surprised that so wonderful a victory was looked on as miraculous, and counted as the fruit of prayer. De Montfort himself ever so regarded it ; and identical one used by him on the occasion. Polidori, who in all things strictly adheres to the ancient authors, and is careful to repudiate every modern addition of less authority, rejects this tale as utterly unfounded, chiefly from the entire silence of F. Bernard concerning the whole matter; and as he was Inquisitor of Toulouse during fourteen years, if any such crucifix had been preserved by the Institute in his day, he could hardly have failed noticing it. Pere Lacordaire, in his eloquent life of S. Dominic, has followed the same argument On the other hand, in the chapel of our Lady in the church of S. James at Muret, which was built as a memorial of the victory in the course of the same year, we see a picture representing the Blessed Virgin giving the Rosary to S. Dominic, who holds in his right hand a crucifix pierced with three arrows : on the other side of our Lady, kneel Simon de Montfort and Fulk of Toulouse. A fac-smile of this picture, and of the same date, was long kept in the Dominican church at Toulouse. Whether this picture alluded to any circumstance which really took place, or was itself the origin of the tradition, we do not pretend to determine. BATTLE OF MURET. 51 attributing his success, under God, to the intercession of Dominic, his love and gratitude to the saint knew no hounds. It has always been so associated in the traditions and chronicles of the time with the institution of the Rosary, as to make many affirm that the first propagation of that devotion must be dated from this time. The battle of Muret was a fatal blow to the cause of the count of Toulouse. Very shortly after, Toulouse itself opened its gates to the victorious arms of De Mont- fort; and a council,* which assembled at Montpellier in the following year, decided that the sovereignty of the country should be intrusted to him, until the general council, about to assemble at Rome, should declare" fur- ther. Cardinal Benvenuto, who reached Toulouse just as the decisive blow had been struck, was commissioned to receive the elder Raymond to absolution, and to put a stop to further hostilities; but the question as to his future enjoyment of the temporal rights he had forfeited by breach of engagement, was still deferred. Twice again Dominic's name occurs among the busy scenes of De Montfort's career. He was called on to baptize his daughter, and to celebrate the marriage of his eldest son with the daughter of the dauphin of France. But the favour of the victorious chieftain, and the dis- tractions of the camp and court, were scarcely felt by him at this moment. The shifting chances of the war, guided by the hands of Providence, were opening to h'im, after long waiting, the way to that design which had ever floated before his mind's eye. The clouds which had so long hung over that distant horizon rose at last; and when Toulouse opened her gates, and the storm of the combat was lulled, and the favour of man was at hand to help on the will of God, Dominic, in his forty-sixth year, prepared to lay the foundation of that order which was to bear his name to future ages so long as the world and the Church should last. * In the Life of S. Francis we are informed, that the holy founder of the Friars Minor was present at this council, being then on his return from Spain. He had, however, no opportunity of meeting S. Dominic, as the latter was then absent at Carcassona, and took no part in the proceedings. . E 2 f>2 CHAPTER VIII. Dominic commences the foundation of his order at Toulouse. The grant of Fulk of Toulouse. Dominic's second visit to Rome. The Council of Lateran. Innocent III. approves the plan of the Order. Meeting of Dominic and Francis Dominic came to Toulouse soon after the Crusaders had entered it, and was joyfully received both by Fulk and by the count de Montfort. Neither of these distin- guished persons were, however, destined to be the imme- diate co-operators with him in the foundation of the order. Peter Cellani, an opulent citizen of Toulouse, and another of the same rank, known to us only under the name of Thomas, presented themselves to him shortly after his arrival at Toulouse, and placed themselves and all they had at his disposal. Peter Cellani offered his own house for the use of the few companions whom Dominic had gathered together to commence his work. They were but six in all, and in after years Peter was accustomed to boast, that he had not been received into the order, but that it might rather be said he had re- ceived the order into his own house. With these six followers, whom he clothed in the habit of the Canons Regular, which he himself always wore, Dominic accord- ingly commenced a life of poverty and prayer under rules of religious discipline. But this alone did not satisfy him; the first design which he had conceived, and which had never left his mind, had pre-eminently as its object the salvation of souls, by means of such a ministration of the Divine Word as should proceed from a knowledge of sacred science, large enough for the defence of the Christian dogmas against all the assaults of heresy and infidelity. The whole future scope of the Friars Preachers was in the mind of Dominic at the moment of their first founda- tion. That it was so is evinced by his first step after COMMENCEMENT OF THE ORDER. 53 assembling these six brethren in the house of Peter Cel- lani. He explained to them the extent and nature of his design; and showed them that, in order to carry it out and fit themselves for the task of teaching truth, they must first learn it. Now it so happened that there was then in Toulouse a celebrated doctor of theology, named Alexander, whose lectures were greatly admired and fre- quented. It was to him that Dominic resolved to intrust his little company. On the same morning Alexander had risen very early, and was in his room engaged in study, when he was overcome by an unusual and irresistible in- clination to sleep. His book dropped from his hand, and he sank into a profound slumber. As he slept he seemed to see before him seven stars, at first small and scarcely visible, but which increased in size and brightness, till they enlightened the whole world. As day broke he started from his dream, and hastened to the school where he was to deliver his usual lecture. Scarcely had he entered the room when Dominic and his six companions presented themselves before him. They were all clad alike, in the white habit and surplice of the Augustinian canons, and they announced themselves as poor brothers, who were about to preach the gospel of Christ to the faithful and heretics of Toulouse, and who desired first of all to profit by his instructions. Alexander understood that he saw before him the seven stars of his morning dream ; and many years after, when the order had indeed fulfilled the destiny predicted, and had covered Europe with the fame of its learning, he himself being then at the English court, related the whole circumstances with an almost fatherly pride, as having been the first master of the Friars Preachers. These first steps of the brethren were marked by the bishop, Fulk of Toulouse, with unmixed satisfaction. The piety and fervour displayed by them, and their exact fol- lowing in the footsteps of Dominic, for whom he had ever entertained a peculiar reverence, determined him to give the infant order the support of his powerful protec- tion. With the consent of his chapter he assigned the sixth part of the tithes of the diocese for their support, 54 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. and the purchase of the books necessary for their studies. The document in which he makes this grant will not be without its interest : — " In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. We make known to all present and to come, that we Fulk, by the grace of God the humble minister of the see of Toulouse, desiring to extirpate heresy, to expel vice, to teach the rule of faith, and recall men to a holy life, appoint Brother Dominic and his companions to be preachers throughout our diocese; who propose to go on foot, as becomes religious, according to evangelical poverty, and to preach the word of evangelical truth. And because the workman is worthy of his hire, and we are bound not to muzzle the mouth of the ox who treadeth out the corn, and because those who preach the gospel shall live by the gospel, we desire that, whilst preaching through the diocese, the necessary means of support be administered to them from the revenues of the diocese. Wherefore, with the consent of the chapter of the church of S. Stephen, and of all the clergy of our diocese, we assign in perpetuity to the aforesaid preachers, and to others who, being moved by zeal for God and love for the salvation of souls, shall employ themselves in the like work of preaching, the sixth part of the tenths destined for the building and ornamenting all the parochial churches subject to our government, in order that they may provide themselves with habits, and whatsoever may be necessary to them when they shall be sick, or be in need of rest. If anything remain over at the year's end, let them give it back, that it -may be applied to the adorn- ing of the said parish churches,' or the relief of the poor, according as the bishop shall see fit. For inasmuch as it is established by law, that a certain part of the tithes shall always be assigned to the poor, it cannot be doubted that we are entitled to assign a certain portion thereof to those who voluntarily follow evangelical poverty for the love of Christ, labouring to enrich the world by their ex- ample and heavenly doctrine; and thus we shall satisfy our duty of freely scattering and dividing, both by our- selves and by means of others, spiritual things to those from whom we receive temporal things. Given in the HIS SECOND VISIT TO ROME. 55 year of the Word Incarnate 1215, in the reign of Philip king of France, the principality of Toulouse being held by the Count de Montfort." Neither was .De Montfort wanting in a like liberality tow ards the young order. He had already made many grants to the house of La Prouillc, and in this year we find him making over the castle and lands of Oassanel to the use of Dominic and hi3 companions. In the autum of the same year Fulk of Toulouse set out for Rome, to attend the approaching council cf the Lateran, and Dominic was his companion. Eleven years had passed since his first visit in company with Diego: they had been years of hard and solitary labour, and the work, the plan of which had even then been formed within his mind, was now but just developing into actual existence. Most surely he had within his soul the prin- ciple of a far higher strength than mere human enthu- siasm, or he might well have been daunted, as coming for the second time within sight of the eternal city, the forty- six years of his life lay before him, so full of patient work, and, as it seemed, blessed with so little fruit. And something more than human enthusiasm was needed, to look forward to the task of the future — the task of teach- ing and reforming a world ; whilst all the materials which he had as yet gathered for the struggle were to be found in the six unknown and unlettered companions whom he had left behind him at Toulouse. Innocent III. still filled the Papal chair, and the Council of Lateran formed almost the closing scene of a Ponti- ficate which must be held as one of the greatest ever given to the Church. On the 11th of November, 1215, nearly 500 bishops and primates, above 800 abbots and priors, and the representatives of all the royal houses of Europe, met in that ancient and magnificent church, the mother church of Rome and of the world. Few councils, save that of Trent, have higher claims on our venera- tion ; for in it were defined some of the highest articles of Catholic faith. The Albigenses, like so many other here- tical sects, were the involuntary means of drawing forth an explicit declaration of the Church's doctrine and disci- 56 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. pline, and eliciting regulations of reform preat men who lay their hands on the human elements «f con- fusion, and fashion them into shape. And it is na+- too much to reckon among these the founder of the INfrai Praachers. COUNCIL OF LATERAN. 57 As yet the Church possessed only the more ancient, forms of monasticism, with some institutes of later creation, which had, however, but a limited object, or a merely local iufluence; for the Friars Minor, though they pre- ceded the Preachers by several years, could not as yet be said to have been formally established as a religious order. Dominic's idea included a much wider field than any of the more modern founders had attempted. He had designed an order for preaching and teaching ; which for that pur- pose should apply itself to the study of sacred letters, with the express object of the salvation of souls. But preaching and teaching had hitherto been considered the peculiar functions of the episcopate, and one of the de- crees of this very council of Later an, after enumerating the evils flowing from the neglect or inability of the bishops in respect to these offices, empowers them to choose fit and proper persons in each diocese to discharge the " holy exercise of preaching" in thei* stead. This decree, however, in nowise contemplated the establish- ment of any body of persons exercising the ofiice as an in- dependent right, or in any other way than as deputies to the bishop, and the plan was, therefore, one full of novelty, and, as it seemed, of difficulty and even danger. But, apart from every other consideration, we may ob- serve in it its admirable adaptation to the peculiar wants and feelings of the time. The world was like an un- trained, untaught child, just rising into manhood, and ready to learn anything. It wanted teachers, and whilst the want was unsatisfied, it made them for itself. During the eleventh and twelfth centuries, one wild sect after another had risen, and counted its followers by thousands, with scarcely any other reason for its success than the favour which was ready to attach to a popular leader. Dominic determined on nothing less than to give them truth in a popular form, and from the mouths of popular teachers ; he felt that it had too long been buried in the cloister or the hermit's cell, and that the time was come for the world also to have evangelists. In short whilst his idea was directly aimed at the guidance and taming of the wild spirit of the day, it had in it not a little of the 58 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. prevailing tone of enterprise and enthusiasm. It was the very chivalry of religion. His reception by the fathers of the council, and by the Pope himself, was cordial and flattering. Met as they were, in a great measure, to discuss the questions which had arisen out of the state of the French provinces, Dominic's name, and the part he had taken during the last ten years, were not unknown and unappreciated by them. Before the formal opening of the council, Pope Innocent granted him an apostolic brief, by which he received the convent of Prouille under the protection of the pontifical see, and confirmed the grants made to it. But when the plan for the foundation of the order was laid before him, its novelty and the vastness of its design startled him. It seemed to encroach on the privileges of the episcopate, and its boldness seemed dangerous at a moment when men's minds were so powerfully agitated. The troubles of the Waldenses were fresh in his mind, a sect which had grown out of the simple abuse of this same office of preaching, when usurped by men without learning or authority. The Church, in short, was jealous of innovation, and had just ruled, in the council then sitting, that no more new orders should be introduced or allowed. In the face of this fresh regulation, it certainly re- quired no small degree of boldness and confidence to pre- sent the scheme of a new foundation for approbation, and to perseverve in the request ; yet Dominic did so, and. the result proved not only the strength of his confidence, but the source from whence it had been derived. Five years previously, when Francis of Assisi had visited Rome to solicit the approbation of his infant order from the same Pope, the like objections and difficulties had been raised ; and we are assured that, on both occasions, they were re- moved by a similar interposition of Divine Providence. Pope Innocent, doubtful as to the reply he should grant, saw, in a vision of the night, the Lateran Basilica about to fall, and Dominic supporting it on his shoulders. An exactly similar dream had before decided him to listen to the petition of S. Francis; and it is probable that the coincidence of the two visions had an additional weight The pope approves the order. 59 in determining him on this occasion to favour that of Dominic. Yet the language of the council was too strong to be entirely evaded ; it was as follows : — " In order that the too great diversity of religious orders be not a cause of confusion in the Church of God, we strictly prohibit that any one do for the future form any new order ; whoever desires to become a religious, let him do so in one of those already approved. In like manner, if any one desire to found a new religious house, let him be careful that it observe the rule and constitutions of one of the approved orders." Not, therefore, to act in positive contradiction to a principle so recently and distinctly laid down, Inno- cent sent for the servant of God, and, after commending his zeal, and assuring him of his approval of the design, he desired him to return to France, that, in concert with his companions, he might choose one out of the ancient rules already approved, which should seem to them the best fitted for their purpose. When the selection was made he was to return to Rome, with the assurance of receiving from the apostolic see that confirmation which he desired. Besides this encouragement and promise of future pro- tection, Innocent was the first who bestowed on the order the name it has ever since borne. The circumstances under which he did so were a little singular, and have been preserved with unusual exactness. Shortly after granting the above favourable answer to the prayer of Dominic, he had occasion to write to him on some matters connected with the subject, and desired one of his secretaries to despatch the necessary orders. When the note was finished, the secretary asked to whom it should be addressed. " To Brother Dominic and his companions," he replied; then, after a moment's pause, he added, " No, do not write that ; let it be, ' To Brother Dominic, and those who preach with him in the country of Toulouse;'" then, stopping him yet a third time, he said, " Write this, ' To Master Dominic and the Brothers Preachers.' " This title, though cot at first formally given, by his successor Honorius in the bulls of confirmation,, 60 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. was, as we shall see, afterwards adopted, and has always continued to be used. It was one to which Dominic himself was attached, and which he had always assumed. So early as the June of 1211, when he was in the midst of his solitary missionary labours in Languedoc, we find a document bearing his seal, attached to which are these words, "The seal of Brother Dominic, Preacher?'' The object of his visit to Rome was now fully accom- plished; yet he did not return to Languedoc until the spring of the following year. The council still sat, and it is probable that he was present at those deliberations concerning the future settlement of the French provinces, which terminated in the formal declaration that Raymond of Toulouse had forfeited his rights, and in the definitive transfer of them to the Count de Montfort. But we do not feel that these transactions require any further notice in a biography of S. Dominic. His connection with the history of the Albigensian struggle was now at an end; henceforth he was to belong, not to Languedoc or to France alone, but to the world. During his stay in Rome his first acquaintance with S. Francis was formed under the following circumstances. One night, being in prayer, he saw the figure of our Lord in the air above his head, with the appearance of great anger, and holding three arrows in his hand, with which he was about to strike the world in punishment of its enormous wickedness. Then the Blessed Virgin prostrated herself before him, and pre- sented two men to Him whose zeal should convert sinners, and appease His irritated justice. One of these men he recognised as himself; the other was wholly unknown to him. The next day, entering a church to pray, he saw the stranger of his vision, dressed in the rough habit of a poor beggar, and recognising him as his companion and brother in the work to which both were destined by God, he ran to him, and, embracing him with tears, exclaimed, "You are my comrade, you will go with me; let us keep together, and nothing shall prevail against us." This was the beginning of a friendship which lasted during the remainder of their lives. From that time they had but one heart and one soul in God; and though their orders HIS MEETING WITH S. FRANCIS. 61 remained separate and distinct, each fulfilling the work assigned to it by Divine Providence, yet a link of fra- ternal charity ever bound them together : " brought forth together," in the words of Blessed Humbert, "by our holy mother the Church," they felt that "God had destined them from all eternity to the same work, even the salva- tion of souls." In the following century the storm of persecution bound these two orders yet closer together; the blows aimed at the one fell on the other, and when they eventually triumphed over their enemies, the de- fence which so successfully silenced all attacks came from the lips of the two greatest doctors of either order, S. Thomas and S. Bonaventure; men who revived in their own day the friendship and the saintliness of their two great patriarchs.* In the Life of S. Francis it is said, that Angelus the Carmelite, afterwards a martyr of his order, was likewise in Rome at this time, and preached in the church of S. John Lateran, in the presence of the two holy founders, •::- The friendship between the two orders was not a mere matter of sentiment. It was considered of sufficient importance to be noticed in their very rule. In the Chapter of Paris, held in 1236, the following was ordained, and still continues in the Constitutions of the Friars Preachers : — "We declare that all our Priors and Brethren should have a diligent care that they always and everywhere bear, and heartily preserve, a great love to the Friars Minor; let them praise them with their lips, and by their works kindly receive and courteously treat with them; and be solicitous as far as they can to be at peace with them. And if any do contrary, let him be gravely punished. And let the Brethren beware, lest they ever speak otherwise than well of them, either among themselves or to any of their friends. And if any one, under the show of friendship, shall report any evil of the aforesaid Friars, our brethren must not be easy in believing it; but shall rather endeavor as iar as possible to excuse them. And if it chance that the Friars Minors shall have provoked us by speaking ill of us, nevertheless let us in nowise publicly contend with them." It i3 in the same spirit that we find it ordered, that there shall always be made a commemoration of " Our holy father S. Francis" in the little office of S. Dominic. (Such is the aifectionate title given by the Friars Preachers to the founder of the order of Minors.' Whilst within the last twelvemonth (1855) the entire office of both holy Patriarchs has been ordered to be recited by the brethren of the two orders on their respective feasts. 62 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. predicting their future greatness, and the extension of their orders. Some of the Franciscan writers place this meeting of Dominic and Francis in the following year, when both were again present in Rome for the confirma- tion of their institutes, but the Dominican authorities are generally agreed in giving it as occurring during this visit. The difference is of no great consequence, and might easily arise without throwing any discredit on the authenticity of the circumstance itself, which rests on the authority of one of S. Francis's constant companions, and has never been called in question. CHAPTER IX. Dominic's return to France. The brethren assemble at Prouille to choose a rule . The spirit of the Order. Some account of the first followers of Dominic. The Convent of S. Komain. The Gouncil of Lateran lasted but three weeks, and broke up at the end of November, 1215. In the early spring of the following year, Dominic found himself once more among his brethren at Toulouse. In the short period of his absence their numbers had increased from seven to sixteen, and we may well imagine the mutual joy of their meeting. He explained to them the result of his expedition to the Holy See, and the necessity which now lay on them to apply themselves to the choice of a rule. For this purpose he appointed Notre Dame de Prouille as the place of meeting, where two other of the brothers, Fr. William de Claret and Fr. Noel, who had care of the religious of Prouille, were waiting for them. It was April when they all gathered in this mother-house of the order; and after earnest prayer and invocation of the Holy Spirit, they agreed in choosing the rule of S. Austin ; a rule to which Dominic THE RULE CHOSEN. 63 himself had long been bound, ever since he had worn the habit of Canon Regular, and which from its simplicity was the better fitted for their purpose, as being sus- ceptible of nearly any development which the peculiar objects of their institute might require. In choosing this rule, Dominic fulfihed the obligation imposed on him by tbe Pope, and escaped the censure of the late council, while at the same time he was left free to expand the general principles of religious life laid down by S. Anstin into particular constitutions of his own. He had not been the first who had made a singular use of this rule. If we compare the plan and work of S. Dominic with that of S. NorbeA who had preceded him by nearly a century, we shall Sid a very striking simi- larity. S. Norbert's rule was a reformation of that of the Regular Canons. In its design he departed from the or- dinary line of the more ancient forms of monasticism, and set before him as his object active missionary labours for the salvation of souls. His work was preaching. He himself preached all over the provinces of France and Flanders, and obtained faculties from Pope Gelasius II. enabling him to preach wherever he choose. A mere cur- sory glance would induce us to judge the spirit of these two orders identical; and there can be no doubt that, in many points of interior discipline, Dominic took the Pre- monstratensian rule as his guide. Yet we see clearly, that, whatever similarity existed between them, they were not the same; they were called to different works, and were to fill a different place in the Church of God. Reli- gious orders, we must never forget, are the result of Divine vocation, not the mere creations of human intelli- gence ; and those vocations they accomplish in an infinite variety of ways, which human intelligence could never have planned or executed : they are like the varieties of plants and animals in nature, whose mingled distinctions and similarities, multiplied in so many thousand forms, attest the authorship of an infinite Creator. We cannot but be struck by this supernatural element in the forma- tion of the order of Friars Preachers. As a mere human work, critics might find so much to say against it. If 61 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. Domimic only wanted to join the active and contemplative lives together, S. Norbert had done it before him; why- could he not be a Premonstratensian ? They followed the same rule, and wore the same habit. Or if he and S. Francis really had the same thoughts, and were raised up for the same purpose, why did they not amalgamate, and then their strength would have been concentrated, instead of being divided ? These seemed reasonable objections ; they were doubtless some of those which encountered the holy founder at his first outset, for it is the way in which the world is wont to criticize the Church. It is certainly the way in which in our own day we do so, as though she were a vast piece of ingenious machinery, which we have a right to take to pieces and improve, as we like best. Wc often loose sight of the fact, that great men and great institutions, popes and councils and religious orders, are but instruments in the hands of God, who works them like puppets without their will, for the accomplishment of His own designs. The order of Friars Preachers had a place to fill in the Universal Church, never yet filled by any religious body, and in which it has since had no rival, even in the period of its decay. Only a hundred years from its first foundation, an Emperor* who was its avowed enemy, and who during his whole life had persecuted it to the last extremity, witnessing its remarkable contest against the alleged errors of a Pontiff, f whom it had been -::- Louis of Bavaria t John XXII. This pontiff was reported to have given utterance, as a private individual, to some opinions of doubtful orthodoxy, concerning the state of souls previous to the day of j udgment. He himself, in a brief which death alone prevented him from publishing in the consistory he had summoned for the purpose, made the most distinct and formal protest of hia entire and hearty accordance with the doctrine of the Church. (Rohrbacher, H, sioire de V Eglise Catho- lique, torn, xx- p. 227.) Whether or no he ever did hold the opinions in question, the subject gave rise to a cohtroversj r , in which the Friars Preachers took a distinguished part ; particularly an English- man, by name F. Thomas Walent, who is described as " a man of great zeal, great heart, and great learning :" with daring courage he preached in the very presence of the Pope, denouncing the supposed error in no measured terms, and suffered for his boldness by a long imprisonment. The favourers of the disputed point had SPIRIT OP THE ORDER. 65 foremost to defend when the aggressions of an Antipope divided the allegiance of the faithful, pronounced this celebrated verdict, wrested from him, as it were, against his will : " The order of Preachers is the order of truth. 11 This is the place which it has ever filled; which in God's Providence, we trust it ever will fill ; and it was the place for which Dominic determined it should be fitted from the very first. His plan was threefold. The first and primary idea of the order was labour for the salvation of souls ; but in setting this before him as his principal aim, he was not willing to abandon anything of the religious cha- racter which attached to the elder institutes of the Church. In short, the whole of his design*is expressed in that pas- sage of the constitutions where it is said that " the Order of Preachers was principally and essentially designed for preaching and teaching, in order thereby to communicate to others the fruits of contemplation, and to procure the salvation of souls." Dominic well knew that to sanctify others the teachers should first be sanctified themselves, and he was content to follow the guidance of antiquity in choosing the means of that sanctification whose fruits were to be imparted to the world. Those means had ever been considered as best found in the rigorous discipline of the cloister : in silence and poverty, prayer, fasting, and a life of penance, and the secret and magical influences of community life. He therefore included in his rule all the essential characteristics of monasticism, whilst at the same time a certain freedom and expansiveness was mingled with the strictness of its discipline, which enabled it ever to bend and mould itself so as to meet its great and pri- mary intention, the salvation of souls. In the constitu- tions of the order, accordingly, we find, mixed with the usual enactments of regular discipline, certain powers of dispensation, to be used when a literal and unbending ad- herence to the letter of the rule would embarrass and impede the brethren in their more active duties. There are also express constitutions, both for the ordering of sufficient influence to cause considerable suffering and disgrace to the order, which, however, never relaxed an inch in its obstinate defence of the teaching of the Catholic Church. P 66 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC, their own studies, and the regulation of sucli schools as they might open for the teaching of others; so that all their active and apostolic undertakings, instead of being departures from the rule, should be provided for in it, and partake of its own spirit and discipline. We may, there- fjre, consider contemplation, apostolic labour for souls, and the especial cultivation of theological science, as the three objects which Dominie sought to unite in the con- stitution of his order. With what success he laboured, and with what fidelity his children have adhered to the character first imprinted on their institute by the hand of its founder, it is for his- tory to show. The ord£r of Friars Preachers has never lost anything of the monastic spirit, whilst at the same time it has never so exclusively adhered to it as to lose sight of the active duties imposed on it by its vocation to apostolic labour. The two characters have ever been pre- served entire, and it has presented to the world, through- out six centuries, the spectacle of a body acting in the most perfect unity of government and design, producing at one and the same time the highest examples of con- templative saints, apostolic missionaries, and theological writers. If we are dazzled by the fame of its doctors, we have but to turn over the page of the Dominican chro- nicles, and, in exchange for the successes of a university contest, we shall find some talc of saintly life, redolent with the sweetness of evangelic simplicity. Its saints are not all great men in the world's reckoning; they are gathered from all ranks ; from the shepherds of the Spanish mountains, the blind beggars of Italy, or the slaves of America, as well as from princes and doctors of the church. Or if, whilst dwelling on this side of the vast scene which it unfolds to us, absorbed, it may be, in the seraphic revelations of S. Catherine, or the sweet mys- ticism of the German Suso, we are tempted to think that its genius grew to be contemplative only, and that in time it shrank from close contact with the world for which it was called to labour, other pages lie open before us rich with tales of the strife of martyrs. Poland, Hungary, Ethiopia, America, and China — these, and many other HIS FIRST FOLLOWERS. 67 countries, have tlie children of Dominic evangelized by their preaching and watered with their blood. Nor is this all; it has constantly been true to its vocation as the organ of popularizing truth. It has borrowed from the spirit of the age to supply the wants of the age. When the world was accustomed to gather science from the lips of living orators, it gave out its companies of preachers and lecturers. When books became more popular vehicles of teaching, there was no want of Dominican writers. Nay, it knew how to use other and lighter kinds of in- struction, and laid a strong hand upon the magic of the arts. How many a sermon has Angelico left us in the colours which still charm us on the walls of his convent ; and after him, painting still remained the heritage of the order which gave him birth, and in its hands has never ceased to be Christian. And if we cannot say of the greatest poet of the middle ages, that he was himself a child of Dominic, it must at least be confessed that he found means to clothe his verse in the spirit of a theology whose master and teacher was S. Thomas. Pre-eminently the order of the church, it has shared her destinies, as it has clung to her teaching. Like her, it has never lost its unity; we do not indeed pretend to say of either, that time has never seen their children waxing cold and un- faithful ; but with both, the power of reformation has ever been found to exist within their own bosoms. The only occasion when the order of Preachers can ever be said to have endured a divided government, was the unhappy period when it shared in a schism which rent the allegi- ance of the church herself; when one regained unity of obedience, it was restored also to the other. After all its sufferings we constantly see it renewing its strength like the eagle; and even in our day, we can scarcely fail to observe that astonishing vitality and power of fresh develop- ment, which after six centuries bursts out as vigorous as ever, attesting its principle of eternal youth. Before closing this chapter, we must give a brief ac- count of those brethren who joined with S. Dominic in the deliberations of Prouille, and who with him may be considered the first founders and propagators of the order. *2 68 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. They were, as we have said, sixteen in number. Matthew of France we have before mentioned in relating the cir- cumstances of his first acquaintance with S. Dominic, when prior of S. Vincent's church at Castres; Bertrand of Garrigues, a little village in the province of Narbonne, was the constant companion of the holy father in all his journeys, and a most faithful imitator of his life and auste- rities. It is of him that it is related, how, being con- stantly weeping for his sins, S. Dominic reproved him, and enjoined him rather to weep and pray for the sins of others. This circumstance throws light upon another story, very commonly repeated, but which we venture to think has not always been fully understood. It is thus related by Surius : — " This Brother Bertrand, a holy man, and, as we have said, the first prior provincial of Provence, was accustomed every day to celebrate mass for sins; and being asked by one Brother Benedict, a prudent man, why he so rarely celebrated mass for the dead, and so fre- quently for sins, he replied, ' We are certain of the salva- tion of the faithful departed, whereas we remain tossed about in many perils.' ' Then,' said Brother Benedict, < if there were two beggars, the one with all his limbs sound, and the other wanting them, which would you compas- sionate the most ?' And he replied, ' Him certainly who can do least for himself.' 'Then,' said Benedict, 'such certainly are the dead, who have neither mouth to con- fess nor hands to work, but ask our help ; whereas living sinners have mouths and hands, and with them can take care of themselves. And when Bertrand was not per- suaded in his mind, on the following night there appeared to him a terrible figure of a departed soul, who with a bundle of wood did in a wonderful manner press and weigh upon him, and waking him up more than ten times that same night, did vex and trouble him. Therefore on the following morning he called Benedict to him, and told him all the story of the night ; and thence religiously, and with many tears, going to the altar, he offered the holy sacrifice for the departed, and from, that time very frequently did the same. This is the same Brother Ber- trand, a most holy and venerable man, to whom S. Dominic HIS FIRST FOLLOWERS. 69 enjoined that lie should not weep for his own, but for others' sins; for he well knew that he was wont to do excessive penance for his sins. And this charge of the Blessed Dominic had such an effect on the soul of Brother Bertrand, that from that time, even if he wished, he was not able to weep for his own sins ; but when he mourned for those of others, his tears would flow in great abundance." The next of S. Dominic's companions whom we find noticed, are the two whom we have before mentioned as residing at Prouille, where they had care of the nuns; "William de Claret of Pamiers, and Brother Noel, a native of Prouille. The former of these had been one of the first missioners among the Albigenses, in the time of Diego of Azevedo. After remaining in the habit of the Friars Preachers for twenty years, he left the order and joined the Cistercians. Not content with this, he even attempted to induce the nuns to follow his example, but, it is unnecessary to say, without success. Then there was* Brother Suero Gomez, a Portuguese of noble birth, who left the royal court to join the army of De Mont- fort against the Albigenses. He was one of those who witnessed the deliverance of the fourteen English pil- grims, and who assisted in bringing them to shore, and shortly afterwards passed to the company of Domi- nic; he is said to have been distinguished for many virtues, and was the founder of the order in Portugal. Michael de Fabra, a Spaniard of noble blood, was the first lecturer on theology in the order, and held that office in the convent of S. James, at Paris. He was also a celebrated preacher, and accompanied King James of Arragon in his expedition against Majorca, where it is said, " So great was the esteem had of him, that during the fifteen months that the siege lasted nothing was done in the camp, either by soldiers or captains, save what was by him ordered."* Such was the reverence in which he was held, that after the conquest of the island he was looked on as the father and ruler of it; and his name was always invoked next * Michaele Pio Uomini— illustri. 70 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. after God and the Blessed Virgin. Divers stories of his apparitions and supernatural assistance to the Christian soldiers are to be found; and the Moors were themselves accustomed to say, that it was Mary and Brother Michael, not the Spaniards, who conquered the island. Another Michael, called De Uzero, was afterwards sent by Dominic to establish the order in Spain. Brother Dominic, called sometimes the little, on account of his stature, or by others, Dominic the second, (and confused by some writers with Dominic of Segovia,* or the third,) had also been one of the holy patriarch's first companions in the missions of Toulouse. "He was," says his his- torian, " little of body, but powerful of soul, and of great sanctity." He too was a wonderful preacher, and cleared the court of king Ferdinand, " as it were in a moment," of all buffoons, flatterers, and other evil company. Next comes Lawrence the Englishman. He is said to have been one of the pilgrims whom Dominic saved from death, as before related. By many he is called Blessed Lawrence, a title he seems to have deserved by his sanctity and his gifts of prophecy and miracles. Then there was Brother Stephen of Metz, a Belgian, " a man of rare abstinence, the frequent macerator of his own body, and of burning zeal for the eternal salvation of his neighbour ;" and Brother John of Navarre, whom S. Dominic had brought with him to Toulouse from Borne, and there given the habit. He it was to whom S. Domi- nic gave the celebrated lesson on holy poverty, which we shall notice in its proper place. "He was then imper- fect," says his biographer, "but afterwards made many journeys with S. Dominic, and by familiar conversation with him learnt how to be a saint, which indeed he became." He was one of those who gave his evidence on the canonization of the holy father. Peter of Madrid * Many authors tell us, that "Dominic the little " was the first Provincial ofLombardy, and afterwards of Spain ; and that he was likewise called " Dominic of Segovia. It is clear, however, from the account of Michaele Pio, that the two Dominica were distinct persons, and that Dominic of Segovia." the Provincial ofLombardy, was not the same as the early companion of the holy patriarch of his order. CONVENT OF S. ltOMAIN. 71 is the next name, but we find no particulars of his life. The two citizens of Toulouse, Peter Cellani and Thomas, have already been mentioned. Oderic of Normandy was a lay brother, and accompanied Matthew of France to Paris, where he was known and reverenced for his " perfection of sanctity." Lastly, there was Manez Gusman, S. Dominic's own brother, " a man of great contemplation, zealpus for souls, and illustrious for sanctity;" the only one of the sixteen who has received the solemn beatification of the Church. He had a great gift of preaching, although his attraction was wholly to contemplation. Michaele Pio gives us his character in a few expressive words ; " Above all things he loved quiet and solitude, taking most delight in a contemplative life, in the which he made marvellous profit ; and in living alone with God and himself, rather than with others. He had the government of the nuns who were established at Madrid. Sincerity and simplicity shone in him above all things ; and many miracles declared to the world how dear he was to heaven." As soon as the little council of Prouille had concluded its deliberations, Dominic returned to Toulouse. There fresh demonstrations of the friendship of Fulk awaited him. With the consent of his chapter he made him the grant of three churches : Saint Eomain at Toulouse, and two others; one at Pamiers, and another, dedicated to our Lady, near Puy-Laurens. These in time had each a convent attached to them; but that of S. Remain was commenced immediately, for Peter Cellani's house was no longer adapted to their increased numbers. A very humble cloister was therefore built contiguous to the church, and over it were placed the cells of the brethren. This was the first monastery of the order. The friars left it in 1232, in order to remove to a larger and more magnificent building. The convent of S. Romain was poor enough, and soon completed ; the brethren went into it in the summer of the same year, 1216 ; and the house of Peter Cellani became the future residence of the Inquisitors. Previous to his last departure to Rome, Dominic had, 72 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. with the concurrence of his brethren, made over all the lands and property granted to him and his brethren, to the nuns of Prouille. Afterwards he had accepted, as it seems a little reluctantly, the revenues provided by the generosity of Fulk of Toulouse. But though he himself felt attracted towards the entire observance of poverty in its strictest form, the mendicity which was afterwards made a law of the order was not among those constitutions drawn up at Prouille and immediately adopted. It was reserved for the test of experience, and for future deliberations. Nevertheless poverty was scarcely less dear to Dominic than it was to Francis; he honoured it in his own person, and was vigorous in seeing it observed by those he governed; and we are assured that every detail of the convent of S. Roniain was executed from his orders, and under his own eye, so as to insure its conformity to the strictest requirements of his favourite virtue. C0O- CHAPTER X. Dominic's third visit to Rome. Confirmation of the Order by Honorious III. Dominic's vision in S. Peter's He is appointed master of the Sacred Palace. Ugolino of Ostia. As soon as the convent of S. Romain had been taken possession of by the brethren, Dominic prepared to return to Rome, to lay the result of his consultation with the other brethren before the Sovereign Pontiff. Before he did so, the news arrived of the death of Innocent III., which took place at Perugia on the 16th of July, and of the election on the day following of Cardinal Savilli as his successor, under the title of Honorious III. This seemed in- deed a severe blow to the hopes of the young order, for In- nocent had been a sure and faithful friend, and it might well cause no small anxiety to have to treat with a new Pontiff for the confirmation of an unknown and untried institute. He, however, set out, leaving Bertrand of Garrigues to CONFIRMATION OF THE ORDER. 73 govern the convent in his absence, whilst he himself made his third visit to the Roman capital. lie arrived there in .the month of September, and found the Pope still absent at Perugia ; this caused him some delay, and during the interval he lived a poor and unknown life, having no other lodging at night than in the Churches. It seemed at first as if many difficulties would stand in the way of the suc- cess of his enterprise ; for the new Pontiff was engaged in various troublesome negotiations, and his court was full of dissensions. Dominic's resource was constant prayer ; and in spite of all obstacles, he obtained the two bulls confirming the foundation of the order of the 22nd of the following December. The confirmation of the Order of Friars Minor was made at the same time, S. Francis being at that time in Rome; and by very many the meeting between him and Dominic is said to have taken place at this period, and not on the occasion of their former visit. The first bull given by Honorius is of considerable length: it grants a variety of privileges and immunities, and confirms the order in the possession of all the lands, ehurches, and revenues with which it had been endowed by Fulk and other benefactors. The second bull is much shorter, and we insert it for the sake of a remarkable expression which it contains prophetic of the future des- tinies of the order : — " Honorius, bishop, servant of the servants of God, to our dear son Dominic, prior of S. Roniain at Toulouse, and to your brethren who have made or shall make profession of regular life, health and apostolic benediction. We, considering that the brethren of the order will he the champions of the faith and true lights of the world, do confirm the order in all its lands and possessions present and to come, and we take under our protection and government the order itself, with all its goods and rights." It was at Santa Sabina, then the apostolic palace, that these two bulls were given on the same day. In neither of them, however, did the new order receive the title which had been originally given to it by Innocent III., and which was so dear to Dominic, that of Preachers. In 74 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC a third bull, however, dated the 26th of January, 1217, the omission is made up. It begins as follows : — "Honorius r bishop, servant of the servants of God, to his dear son the prior and brethren of S. Romain, Preachers in the country of Toulouse, health and apostolic benediction." Mean- while Dominic, whose mission at Rome was accomplished as soon as the two first bulls had been granted, was anxious to return to Toulouse, but was detained at Rome by the command of the Pontiff, who had conceived a high esteem and affection for him. Day and night, therefore, he commended his children and their work to God, and specially in those watches which he still continued to keep in the churches, which were his only lodging. That of the Holy Apostles was the one he loved the best, and it was whilst fervently praying for his order at their tomb, that he was granted a second vision to encourage and console him. This was the appearance of the apostles S. Peter and S. Paul, the first of whom gave him a staff, and the second a book, saying these words: "Go and preach, for to this ministry thou art called." Then he seemed to see his children sent forth two and two into the world, preaching to all nations the word of God. Some writers add that the Holy Spirit was seen to rest on his head in the form of a fiery tongue, and that from that time he was singularly confirmed in grace, and freed from many temptations; others, that he ever aftewards bore about with him the book of the Gospels and of the Epistles of S. Paul. In all his journeys, too, he con- stantly carried a stick, an unusual thing which he proba- bly did in memory of this vision. His delay at Rome, if tedious to himself, was greatly profitable to others. Lent found him still there ; and during that holy season he took occasion frequently to exercise his office of preaching. His success induced the Pope to appoint him to explain the Epistles of S. Paul in the sacred palace, before the court and cardinals. An ancient author of the noble house of Colonna, himself a Dominican, tells us that " Many came from all parts to hear him, both scholars and doctors, and all gave him the title of Master." Other authors, among whom is Flaminius, relate that the origin CARDINAL tTGOLINO. 75 of tliis appointment of S. Dominic was as follows: Ho was, they say, greatly displeased, on the occasion of his visits to the palace, to see the followers of the cardinals idling about the ante-chambers, playing at games of chance, whilst their masters were engaged on the business of the Church ; and that he suggessed to the Pope whether some means could not be devised for enter- taining them religiously and usefully, by the explanation of the Scriptures. The Pope, agreeing to his views, laid the charge on himself, and instituted the office of Master of the Sacred Palace, which continues even to our own day, and is always conferred on one of the Dominican order. This office is not simply a titular one ; its duties are considerable, and of no small importance, including the censorship of all books published in Rome ; and its possessor has been described as the Pope's theologian, acting as his domestic adviser in all matters of a theolo- gical character. Another of those dear and honourable friendships which so embellish the life of Dominic, was formed during this visit to the Roman capital. Ugolino Conti, cardinal bishop of Ostia, and afterwards successor to Honorius, under the title of -Gregory IX., already the friend and pro- tector of Francis and of the Friars Minor, now first made the acquaintance of his brother and rival in sanctity. He was advanced in age, but a man of warm and enthusiastic feelings, who ever counted the close personal ties which bound him to those two great men as among the greatest privileges of his life. It was at his house that Dominic met another younger friend, William de Montferrat, who was spending Easter with Ugolino. The charm of the saint's intercourse, which indeed seems to have been of a very peculiar and winning kind, so captivated him that he was induced to take the habit of his order. He has left us the account of the whole matter in his own words : — "It is about sixteen years," he says, " since I went to Rome to spend Lent there, and the present Pope, who was then- Bishop of Ostia, received me into his house. At that time Brother Dominic, the founder and first master of the order of Preachers, was at the Roman court, and 76 LIFE OP S. DOMINIC. often visited my lord of Ostia. This gave me an oppor- tunity of knowing him ; his conversation pleased me, and I began to love him. Many a time did we speak together of the eternal salvation of our own souls, and those of all men. I never spoke to a man of equal perfection, or one so wholly taken up with the salvation of mankind, although indeed I have had intercourse with many very holy religious. I therefore determined to join him, as one of his disciples, after I had studied theology at the university of Paris for two years, and it was so agreed be- tween us ; and also, that after he had established the future discipline of his brethren, we should go together to convert, first, the pagans of Persia or of Greece, and then those who live in the southern countries." Once more we find here the key-note of Dominic's soul, the salvation of souls, which "wholly took him up;" and how large and magnificent was that thought of going first to convert Persia and Greece, and then on to the southern world ! He had the very soul of chivalry under his friar's tunic ; and we can well imagine the charm which such vast and glowing thoughts, clothed in the eloquence which was all his own, must have exerted over the minds of those who listened to him. He endeavoured also to persuade Bar- tholomew of Clusa, archdeacon of Mascon and canon •*£ Chartres, one of his own penitents, to enter the new order, for he clearly discerned that such was God's vocation to his soul. Bartholomew, however, turned a deaf ear to all he said, and Dominic predicted that many things would befall him in consequence of his resistance to grace, which things, he himself assures us, did really afterwards happen to him ; but what they were does not appear Among the incidents of his life at Koine during this visit, we find mention of several active works of mercy, both spiritual and corporal. Outside the walls of the city there resided at that time certain recluses, commonly called Murati from their habitation. They were a com- munity of hermits ; each lived in a poor little cell separate one from the other ; in which they were inclosed, never leaving them ; being moved to this singular life by a par- ticular spirit of mortification and solicitude. Almost every DISPERSION OF THE COMMUNITY. 77 morning, after celebrating mass and reciting the Divine office, Dominic went to visit them, conversing with them on holy subjects, and exhorting them to perseverance. He was also accustomed to administer to them the sacra- ments of penance and the eucharist, and was, in short, what would be now called their director. When not engaged in these duties, of in the public exercise of preaching, he was to be found in the churches, where he spent his nights. CHAPTER XI. Dominic returns to Toulouse. He disperses the Community of S. Romain. His address to the people of Languedoc. Future affairs of the Order in that country. It was not until the May of 1217, that Dominic was able to return to Toulouse. His return was very wel- come to his children ; yet their joy was, if we may so say, a little sobered, when, almost immediately on his arrival, after gathering them together and addressing to them a fervent exhortation on the manner of life to which they now stood pledged, he announced his intention of break- ing up the little community as yet but just formed, and scattering its members to different countries. The plan seemed the height of imprudence; all joined in blaming it, and endeavouring to dissuade him from it. But Dominic was inexorable; the vision which he had seen beside the tomb of the apostles was fresh in his eye ; their voice yet sounded in his ear. Fulk of Toulouse, De Montfort, the archbishop of Narbonne, and even his own companions, urged him to pause, but nothing would stir him from his purpose. " My lords' and fathers," he said, •' do not oppose me, for I know very well what I am about." He felt that their vocation was not to one place, but for all nations ; not for themselves alone, but for the Church and the world. " The seed," he said, " will fructify if it is sown ; it will ut moulder if you hoard it up." Some 78 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. little time he gave them to consider if they could submit to his determination, with the alternative otherwise of abandoning the order. But his followers, whatever had been their feelings on the subject, had too profound a veneration for his person and character to oppose their judgments to his, and soon yielded the point. 1 The event showed how entirely his resolution had been guided by the spirit of God. Meanwhile, in the preparation which he made for this dispersion of his children, he showed how great was his anxiety for the preservation among them of the observ- ance and spirit of their rule. The convent of Toulouse he designed to be the model which was to be followed in all later foundations, and made several regulations to ren- der it more perfect in its arrangements. He thought it well that the brethern should from time to time meet to- gether for mutual counsel and encouragement. With this idea lie caused two large additional rooms to be built, one for containing the habits of the community, the other for the brethren to assemble in ; for until now they, like the Cistercians, had had no rooms but their cells and the refectory. These two additions to their little convent added materially to the comfort of those who were to be left to inhabit it, and were doubtless the more welcome to them as proofs of the watchful thoughtfulness of their father. He was very earnest in enjoining upon them the strict observance of that part of S. Austin's rule which forbids all private appropriation of the smallest article. Even in the ehurch itself he desired that the spirit of holy poverty should never be forgotteu ; and though he constantly insisted on its being kept a mirror of cleanli- ness, yet he forbade all elegancies and curiosities, and even ordered that the sacred vestments should not be made of silk. As to the cells of the brethren, the poverty he enjoined was absolute : a little cane bedstead, and a miserable bench were the only furniture he allowed. They had no doors, in order that the superior might always be able to see the brethren as he passed along; the dormitory resembled, as closely as possible, that of an hospital. HIS ADDRESS TO THE PEOPLE. 79 Blessed Jordan tells us, that it was whilst engaged in these regulations, that the holy father had the vision which foretold to him the death of the Count De Montfort. He seemed to see an immense tree, in whose branches a great quantity of birds had taken refuge; the tree was luxuriant and beautiful, and spread out its arms over the earth : suddenly it fell, and the birds all took flight, and Dominie was given to understand, that this represented the fall of him who had been known in a special manner as the proteetor and "faiher of the poor." This was accomplished in the following year, when the two Ray- monds regained possession of Toulouse, and the Count de Montfort fell at the siege of that city. It is probable that his knowledge of the approaching return of war hastened Dominic in the execution of his designs. He fixed the feast of the Assumption for the assembly of all his brethren at Notre Dame de Prouille, previons to their departure for their different missions; and these missions were to include Paris, Bologna, Rome, the two convents of Toulouse and Prouille, and Spain ; whilst he himself was letting his beard grow, with the intention, when things were fairly put in train in Europe, of setting out to the countries of the infidels. And all this was to foe accomplished with sixteen followers : such was the largeness of Dominic's confidence in Grod. On the appointed day, the little company all met to keep the festival of the Assumption with an unusual solemnity in the church of their mother-house of Prouille. It must have been a deeply touching spectacle to all present, and to Dominic himself one of profound and singular emotion. Great numbers of persons from the surrounding country, who knew the circumstances which had gathered the brethren together, came to witness the ceremony of the day ; among them was De Montfort himself, and several- prelates, all anxious to ascertain the final determination of S. Dominic as to the destination of his little flock. It was he himself who offered the Holy Sacrifice, and who, still habited in the sacred vestments, preached to the assembled audience in language some of which is still preserved to us. We are compelled, 80 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. from the severity of his tone, to draw conclusions un- favourable to the people of Languedoc; for it was them whom he thus addressed: "Now for many years past," he said, "have I sounded the truths of the Gospel in your ears, by my preaching, my entreaties, and my prayers, and with tears in my eyes. But, as they are wont to say in my country, the stick must be used when blessings are of no avail. Lo ! princes and rulers will raise all the kingdoms of this world against you; and woe be unto you ! they will kill many by the sword, and lay the lands desolate, and overthrow the walls of your cities, and all of you will be reduced to slavery ; and so you will come to see, that where blessings avail not, the stick will avail." These dismal announcements were too truly fulfilled when the army of the French king was sent against the people of Toulouse ; and they seem to indicate that the evils under which the unhappy country had so long laboured had produced an effect which not even the twelve years labour, of an . apostle had been able to counteract : it was a solemn farewell which framed itself, almost unintentionally, into words of prophetic warning. He then turned to his own brethren, and reminded them of the first origin of their order, the end for which it was instituted, and the duties to which they stood pledged. Above all, he exhorted them to confidence in God, and a great and unflinching courage, always to prepare for wider and wider fields of labour, and to be ready to serve the Church, in whatever way they might be called to work for the conversion of sinners, heretics, or infidels. His words had an extraordinary effect on those who listened ; any lingering feelings of dissatis- faction they might have felt were dispelled by this appeal to the heroism of their natures. Like soldiers harangued by a favourite leader on the battle-field, they seemed all kindled with a spark of his own chivalrous ardour, and were impatient to be led on to the enterprise which awaited them. But another ceremony yet remained to be performed. When Dominic had concluded his address, the sixteen brethren knelt before him, and made their solemn vow3 AFFAIRS OF THE ORDER. 31 in his hands, binding themselves to the three obligations of the religious state ; for until then they had been bound to him by no other tie than their own will. The nuns of Prouille, in like manner, all made their profession on the same day, adding the fourth vow of inclosure. When this ceremony was over, he declared to each of them the quarter to which they were destined. The two fathers, who had until then had the direction of the convent of Prouille, were to remain there as before, whilst Peter Cel- lani and Thomas of Toulouse were to continue at S. Ro- main. A large section of his little company were appointed for the establishment of the order in Paris; these were Matthew of Prance, Bertrand, Oderic, Manez the saint's brother, with Michel Fabra and John of Navarre, the last of whom had but just received the habit, and our own countryman Lawrence. Stephen of Metz he reserved as his own companion, and the four remaining Spaniards were sent to Spain. Before they separated to their dif- ferent parts, Dominic determined to provide for the future government of the order in case of 'his death or removal, for he still cherished the secret design of himself depart- ing for the countries of the infidels, and finding perhaps a martyr's crown among them. It was the old dream planned so long ago with Diego of Azevedo, and never laid aside. He therefore desired them to make a canoni- cal election among themselves of some one who should govern the order in his absence, or in case of his death. Their choice fell on Matthew of France, who received the title of Abbot, a designation never continued in the order ; after his death the brethren were content with the title of Master for him who held the chief authority, whilst the other superiors were called priors and sub-priors, names chosen as best befitting the humility of their state. This election being finished, Dominic committed the bull of confirmation to the keeping of the new abbot, that it might be solemnly published in the capital of France, and gave them a parting exhortation to keep their vows, and be diligent in founding convents, preaching God's word, and following their studies; and so dismissed them with his blessing. G 83 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. One of them, and one only, showed evident signs of reluctance to obey. This was the newly-clothed brother, John of Navarre. He strongly shared in the sentiments of those ecclesiastics who solemnly condemned the holy patriarchs for imprudence. He ventured, before depart- ing, to ask for a little money for his expenses on the way. The request seemed reasonable ; but Dominic's discern- ment saw clearly the secret feelings of distrust and dis- content which prompted it. He sharply reproved him, and set before him the example of the disciples whom their Lord sent forth, "having neither scrip nor purse;" then, quickly exchanging severity for the paternal tender- ness which was more natural to him, he threw himself at his feet, and with tears in his eyes besought him to lay aside his cowardly fears, and to arm himself with a generous trust in God's Providence. But John still con- tinuing stubborn in his view, and unconvinced of the practicability of travelling two hundred miles without funds, Dominic desired them to give him twelve pence, and then dismissed him. We are told that some Cistercians who were present expressed their surprise in no measured terms, that he should send out these ignorant, unlettered boys to preach and teach; their criticism was something more than free, it was even contemptuous. Dominic bore the officious remarks with the equanimity which he never failed to exhibit on such occasions, the virtue for which the Church has so worthily designated him "the rose of patience." "What is it you say, my brothers," he replied with his accustomed sweetness; "are you not a little like the Pharisees ? I know, nay I am certain, that these ' boys' of mine will go and come back safe, but it will not be so with yours." As for himself, when his little flock was dispersed, he still lingered awhile at Toulouse, and, be- fore he left, he gave another token of his disinterestedness and magnanimity. The two brethren of S. Romain be- came entangled in some disputes with the procurators of the bishop's court, about the portion of tithes granted to the order by Pulk of Toulouse. Dominic settled the matter by causing an instrument to be executed in ac- DEATH OF I)E MONTFORT. 83 cordance with the views of the procurator, without further controversy; this paper is dated the 11th of September, 1217. He left for Italy soon after its execution, but not till he had received several new sons into his order; amongst these were Poncio Samatan, afterwards the founder of the convent of Bayonne; Raymond Falgaria, a noble of the neighbourhood, and successor to Fulk in the bishopric of Toulouse ; and Arnold of Toulouse, first prior of the convent of Lyons. From this time we shall not have much occasion to speak of Languedoc; for, in following the future course of S. Dominic's life, we shall be led forward to other countries ; the bright star which had risen in Spain, and spent its long meridian in France, was to shed its setting splendour over the fields of Italy. Simon de Montfort perished the following year under the walls of Toulouse, as foreseen by Dominic. His death, like his life, was that of a brave and Christian knight. The victorious arms of the two Raymonds had stripped him of the greater part of the provinces with which he had been invested; and, urged to a last effort for their recovery, he laid siege to Toulouse with a force wholly unequal to the enterprise. It was sunrise on the 25th of June, when word was brought him of an ambuscade of the enemy. He received the message with tranquillity; and arming himself with his usual composure, he went to hear mass before going to the field. Another despatch arrived in the middle of the ceremony; they had attacked his machines of war, would he not hasten to their defence? " Leave me !" was his reply, " I stir not till I have seen the sacrament of my redemption!" Yet once again another messenger rushed into the church; the troops could hold out no longer; he would surely come to their aid. He turned to the speaker with a stern and melancholy air: "I will not go," he said, "till I have seen my Saviour." He knew his last hour was at hand ; the sadness of deep disappointment was in his heart, but he surely made that day a solemn offering and resignation to God of the life whose human hopes had failed. When the priest elevated the sacred host, De Montfort knelt, and uttered the words " Nune dimittis." Then he went out to the scene of 84 ' LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. combat. His presence had its wonted efiect on his fol- lowers, as well as on his enemies. The men of Toulouse fled back to the city, pursued by the victorious crusaders ; but a stone from the wall struck their gallant leader to the ground; and smiting his breast with his hand, ho expired, recommending his soul to God, and with the name of Mary on his lips. His friendship towards the order of Friars Preachers survived in his family. One of his daughters, Amice, or, as the Italians sweetly name her, Amicitia, the wife of the Seigneur de Joigny, bore so peculiar a love to the children of Dominic that she used all her endeavours to induce her only son to take the habit. He, however, fol- lowed the army of S. Louis to the Holy Land; but whilst detained in the island of Cyprus, he was taken with a mortal sickness, and on his death-bed, remembering his mother's prayers, he sent for the friars and received the habit from their hands. When the tidings were brought her, she gave thanks to God, and on the death of her husband resolved to enter the order herself. She was constantly repeating the words, " If I cannot be a Friar Preacher, I will at least be one of their sisters ;" and she succeeded, after much opposition, in founding the convent of Montaign, where she herself took the habit, and died in odour of sanctity about the year 1235. Toulouse, the nursery of the Dominican order, con- tinued to be closely linked with its history for many a year, though after the death of De Montfort we hear less of the triumphs of its champions than of the sufferings of its martyrs. Among these we find some hardly to be passed over without notice, such as the blessed Francis of Toulouse, one of the first who received the habit, and whom Taegius calls one of the most intrepid preachers of b*s time : he fell into the hands of the heretics, who tor- mented him in every way that more than pagan barbarity could suggest; but he preached through it all, and pro- claimed the Catholic faith. Then they plaited a crown c f thorns, and placed it on his head ; and Francis received i t joyfully, counting himself unworthy to be made partaker in one of the sufferings of his Lord ; and still, as the bloai THE MARTYRS OF TOULOUSE. 85 streamed down his face, "he confessed and denied not," but boldly preached the word of God, and the faith of His Church. Then they shot him to death with arrows ; and so, standing like Sebastian with his face to his ene- mies, and with that glorious crown upon his brow, he went to Christ. This was in 1260; a few years previously Toulouse had witnessed the confession of others of the order, among whom was William of Montpellier and his companions. They were all of the convent of Toulouse, and Count Raymond, the successor to the dominions and the heresy of the Raymond of Dominic's time, enraged at their boldness and success among his subjects, tried first to starve them into submission. He gave orders that none, under pain of death, should bring any meat or drink to the convent, or hold any communication with it, and posted guards about its boundaries to see his orders en- forced. But angels set his guards at defiance, and were seen going -to and fro with provisions, so that no man durst hinder them. Then he drove them from the town, stripped them of all things they possessed, and condemned their houses to be burned : this did not disturb them ; they went on their way, singing the Creed and the Salve Regina with joyful countenances as they left the city gates. But though forced to retire, they soon returned to the province, and everywhere carried, as before, the light of truth among the people; so that in 1242 Raymond determined on yet more violent measures. Being then at his country house of Avignette, and seated at his ease at the window of his private room, William, with ten other companions, some of his own order, some of that of the Friars Minors, were brought before him, and severely tor- tured in various ways ; Raymond looking on and enjoying the scene. And whilst his eyes were satisfied with the spectacle of their sufferings, there was not wanting music for his ears, if indeed it were of a kind that such a soul as his could understand. Under the very knives of their torturers, the dying martyrs raised a sweet harmony with their failing breath ; they sang clear and loud the canticle Te Deum, and taught their murderers, even with their expiring voices, that the triumph of that hour belonged 86 LIFE OF S. t)OMlNlC. to tlieir victims, and not to them, This happened on the vigil of the Ascension, 1242. — c#o CHAPTER XII, Dominic's fourth visit to Rome* His mode of travelling. The October of the year 1217 saw Dominic crossing the Alps on foot, for the fourth time, on his way to Home, in company with Stephen of Metz, A considerable ob- scurity hangs over this journey. According to an ac- count sent to Rome by the fathers of the convent of SS. John and Paul at Venice, it was at that city that he first stopped, having, as it is said, the intention of carrying out the design already spoken of, namely, to embark for the East, and preach the Gospel to the Saracens in the Holy Land. Whilst there he preached publicly on several oc- casions, with such eifect that several of the inhabitants demanded the habit, and the authorities of the Republic granted to him and these new brethren the little oratory of S. Daniel. The words of this document are as fol- lows: — "In the year of our Lord 1217, the holy father Dominic came to Venice with a few other brethren, and received from the Republic the oratory then called S, Daniel, but which after his canonization was called the chapel of S. Dominic, and since the year 1567, down to the present day, has been called the chapel of Rosary. In this oratory, which was at first very small, S. Dominic erected a little convent for his brethren, and in the place now called the novitiate may still be seen, in the windows and walls, the remains of this ancient fabric." Whether indeed this relation may be trusted, in so far as concerns the foundation of the convent at Venice, seems a matter of doubt; yet there appears every probability that the saint did visit the city at that time with the intention of embarking for the Holy Land ; an intention which, it is well known, he entertained whilst yet at Toulouse. What the circumstances were which induced him to abandon it does not appear ; nor is there any certain account preserved HIS FOURTH VISIT TO ROME. 87 of his manner of passing the months which intervened between his departure from Toulouse and his arrival at Rome at the close of the year 1217. "We find, however, that he stopped at Milan on his way, and was there courteously entertained by the Canons Regular of San Nazario, who received him as one of their own order, for he and his brethren still wore the Augustinian habit; nor did they change it until after the vision granted to Blessed Reginald, of which we shall speak further on. In default of exact details concerning this fourth jour- ney to Rome, we will present our readers with the picture which has been so faithfully left us of Dominic's mode of performing all his journeys, and leave them by its means to fill up the blank, and to follow him thus in their mind's eye as he crossed the Alps on foot and made his way through the plains of Lombardy, and, as some have not hesitated to add, through the valleys of Switzerland and the Tyrol, preaching as he went. It will help us to a more intimate acquaintance with him, and set him before us with a more personal reality, as we enter on the most important period of his life. Dominic always travelled on foot, with a little bundle on his shoulder and a stick in his hand. As soon as he was a little out of the towns and villages through which he passed, he would stop and take off his shoes, perform- ing the rest of his journey barefoot, however rough and bad the roads might be. If a sharp stone or thorn en- tered his feet, he would turn to his companions with that cheerful and joyous air which was so peculiar to him, and say, " This is penance," and such kind of sufferings were a particular pleasure to him. Coming once to a place covered with sharp flints, he said to his companion, Brother Bonvisi, " Ah ! miserable wretch that I was, I was once obliged to put on my shoes in passing this spot." " Why so ?" said the brother. " Because it had rained so much," replied Dominic. He would never let his com- panions help to carry his bundle, though they often begged him to suffer them to do so. When he looked down from the heights which they were descending, over any country or city which they were about to enter, he would pause, 88 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC and look earnestly at it, often weeping as he thought of the miseries men suffered there, and of the offences they committed against God. Then, as he pursued his journey and drew nearer he would put on his shoes, and, kneel- ing down, would pray that his sins might not draw down on them the chastisement of Heaven. For there was in his character a singular mixture of that frank and joyous bonhomie, so invariably to be found in a high and chivalrous mind, with the tenderness of a melancholy which had in it nothing morose, but was rather the con- sequence of a profound reverence for the purity of God, the outrages against Whom, as they hourly came before him, were felt with an exquisite sensibility. He seldom looked about him, and never when in towns or other places where he was not alone. - His eyes were generally cast down, and he never seemed to notice anything curious or remarkable on the way. If he had to pass a river he would make the sign of the cross, and then enter it without hesitation, and was always the first to ford it. If it rained, or any other discomfort disturbed him on the road, he encouraged his companions, and would begin singing in a loud voice his favourite hymn, the Ave Maris Stella, or the Veni Creator. More than once at his word the rain ceased, and the swollen rivers were passed without difficulty. He constantly kept the fasts and abstinences of his rule, and the silence prescribed by the constitutions until prime; and this silence he insisted on being also observed by the others; though, as regarded the fasts and abstinences he was indulgent in dispensing with them for the brethren whilst they were travelling; an indulgence he never extended to himself. Then, as they went along, he would beguile the way with talking of the things of God, or he instructed his companions in points of spiritual doctrine, or read to them ; and this kind of teaching he enjoined on the other brethren when tra- velling with younger companions. Sometimes, however, he was used to say, " Go on before, and let us each think a little of our Divine Lord." This was the signal that he wished to be left to silent meditation. At such times HIS MODE OP TRAVELLING. 89 lie would remain behind, to escape observation, and would very soon begin to pray aloud, with tears and sighs, losing all thought of the road he was following, or the possible presence of others. Sometimes they had to turn back and search for him, and would find him kneel- ing in some thicket or lonely place without seeming to fear wolves or other dangers. The dread of personal danger indeed formed no part of Dominic's character. His courage, though always passive, was essentially heroic. Over and o\ r er again he had been exposed to the assaults of his enemies, and warned of their in- tentions against his life ; but such things never so much as made him change his road and alter the plan of his journey in any particular; he always treated the subject with silent indifference. When his prayers were ended, his brethren, who often watched him on such occasions, would see him take out his favourite book of the gospels, and, first, making the sign of the cross, pursue his road, reading and meditating to himself. However long and fatiguing was the day's journey, it never prevented him from saying Mass every morning whenever there was a church to be found; and most frequently he would not merely say but sing it ; for he was one who never spared his voice or strength in the divine offices. We are constantly reminded of the heartiness of the royal psalmist, in the character left us of Dominic's devotion. " I will sing to the Lord with all my strength," was the language of David ; "I will sing to the Lord as long as I have any being." And Dominic had no indulgence for any indolence or self sparing in the praises of God. He always rendered Him the sacrifice, not of his heart only, but of his lips; and called on all his companions to do 'he same, for he felt it a good and joyful thing to praise the Lord. It must be acknowledged, that his wonderful bodily constitution was no little assistance in this matter to the fervour of his soul. In his animal nature, no less than in the cast of his mind, there was much of the gallant spirit of a soldier ; he never felt that fatigue, or in- disposition, or other little ailments and difficulties, could 90 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. be an excuse for doing less for God. Therefore when he stopped for the night at some religious house, which he always preferred doing when it was possible, he never failed to join them in the singing of matins ; and he gave it as his reason for choosing to stop at a convent, in preference to other lodgings which he might have ac- cepted, saying, " We shall 'be able to sing matins to-night." At such times he generally chose the office of waking the others. These passing visits to the convents, either of his own or of other orders, were always full of profit to their inmates. They made the most of the few hours of his stay, and Dominic never thought of pleading for the privilege of a weary traveller. If the convent were under his own government, his first act was to call together the religious, and make them a discourse on spiritual things for a "good space;" and then if any were suffering from temptations, melancholy, or any kind of trouble, he never was tired of comforting and advising them till he had restored them to the quiet and joy of their souls. Very often these little visits were so delightful to the religious who entertained him, that on his leaving them in the morning they would ac- company him on his way to enjoy a little more of his discourse ; for the fascination of his conversation was universally felt to be irresistible. But if there were no such nouses to receive him, he left the choice of the night's lodging to his comrades, and was all the better pleased if it chanced to be incommodious ; he made it a rule, before entering, always to spend some time in the nearest church. When people of high rank entertained him, he would first quench his thirst at some fountain, lest he should be tempted to exceed religious modesty at table, and so give occasion of scandal ; a prudence which, in a man of such austerity of life, gives us a singular idaa of his humility. When ill, he would eat roots and fruit rather than touch the delicacies of their tables ; and even when canon of Osma he never touched meat; he would take it and hide it in his plate, not to be observed. Sometimes he begged his bread from door to door, thanking his benefactors for their scanty alms on his HIS MODE OP TRAVELLING. 91 knees, and with uncovered head. His sleep was taken on the floor, and in his habit ; and very often those who slept near him could hear that the night was spent in prayers and tears, and "strong crying" to God for the salvation of souls. Thus journeying, he would stop and preach at all the towns and villages in his way: what kind of preaching this was, we may easily guess. " What books have you studied, father," said a young man to him one day, "that your sermons are so full of the learning of holy Scrip- ture ?" " I have studied in the book of charity, my son," he replied, " more than in any other : it is the book which teaches us all things." "With all his strength," says blessed Jordan, "and with the most fervent zeal, he sought to gain souls to Christ without any exception, and as many as he could ; and this zeal was marvellously, and in a way not to be believed, rooted in his very heart." His favourite way of recommending to man the truths of God, was the sweetness of persuasion ; and yet, as his parting address to the people of Languedoc shows us, he knew (according to his own expression) " how to use the stick." Finally, to cite once more the words of the writer just quoted, "Wherever he was, whether on the road with his companions, or in the house with the guests or the family of his host, or among great men, princes or prelates, he always spoke to edification, and was wont to give examples and stories whereby the souls of those who heard him were excited to the love of Jesus Christ, and to contempt of the world. Everywhere, both in word and deed, he made himself known as a truly evangelical man." The same testimony was borne by those who were examined on his canonization : " Where- ever he was," they say, " whether at home or on a journey, he ever spoke of God or to God; and it was his desire that this practice should be introduced into the consti- tutions of his order." We must, however, conclude these brief notices, so precious in the personal details they have preserved to us of some of his characteristic habits, and once more take up the thread of his story, which finds him for the fourth time under the walls of the eternal city. CHAPTER XIII. The convent of S. Sixtns. Kapid increase ot the Order. Miracles and popularity of S. Dominic. The visit of the angels Dominic was received at Rome with renewed evidences of affection and favour from Pope Honorius, who showed every disposition to forward the view with which he had returned thither, namely, the foundation at Rome of a convent of his order. The church granted to him by the Pontiff for this purpose was chosen by himself; it was one already full of ancient and traditionary interest, which its connection with the rise of the Dominican order has certainly not lessened. There is a long road that stretches out of Rome, following the course of the ancient Via Appia, which, deserted as it now is by human habitation, you may trace by its abandoned churches and its ruined tombs. In the old days of Rome, it was the patrician quarter of the city ; the palace of the Csesars looks down upon it, and by its side stand the vast ruins of Caracalla's baths, with the green meadows covering the site of the Circus Maximus. This circumstance of its being formerly the place of popular and favourite resort, accounts for the abundance of Christian remains which mingle with fhe relics of a pagan age, and share their interest and their decay. For here were formerly the houses of many of noble and some of royal birth; and when their owners confessed the faith, and died martyrs for Christ, the vene- ration of the early church consecrated those dwellings as churches, to be perpetual monuments of names which had else been forgotten. But in time the population of Rome gathered more and more to the northern side of the Caelian Hill, and the Via Appia has long been left to a solitude which harmonizes well enough with its original destination, for it was the Roman street of tomb3. There, CONVENT OF S. SIXTUS. 93 mixed with the ruined towers and melancholy pagan memorials of death, where the wild plants festoon them- selves in such rich luxuriance, and the green lizards and snakes enjoy an unmolebted home, stand these deserted Christian churches, never open now, save on the one or two days when they are places of pilgrimage for the crowds who flock to pray at shrines and altars which at other times are left in the uninterrupted silence of neglect. Among these is one dedicated to S. Sixtus, pope and martyr, and the tomb of five others, popes and martyrs like himself. If the English traveller visit it now, on one of those days of which we speak, when its doors are opened to the devotion of the faithful, and should chance to ad- dress himself to any of the white-robed religious whom he may find there, and who seem to be its masters, he will be startled with the sound, so sweet, and alas ! in a place of holy association, so strange to his ears, the accent of his own English tongue. The church of San Sisto is, in fact at this time, the property of the Irish Dominican convent of San Clemente a circumstance not without its interest to ourselves. This was the church chosen by Dominic for his first foundation at Rome, and Honorius did not hesitate to grant it to him, together with all the buildings attached. These had been erected by Innocent III., with the inten- tion of gathering together within their walls a number of religious women who were at that time living in Rome under no regular discipline. The design had never been carried out, and Dominic was ignorant of it when he ap- plied for and obtained the grant of the church. His first care was to reduce the house to a conventual form, and to enlarge it so as to be capable of receiving a consider- able number of brethren. To do this he was obliged to solicit the alms of the faithful, which were indeed abun- dantly supplied; the Pope himself liberally contributing to a work in which he felt no common interest. Mean- while Dominic laboured at his usual trade of preaching. Whilst the walls of his convent were daily rising above the ground ajad growing into shape, he was busy forming a spiritual edifice out of the hearts and souls of those 94, LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. whom his eloquence daily won from the world to join themselves to God. In our own day we are often tempted to talk and think much of our great successes, and the extraordinary impulse given to our religious life. It is a style known only to those among whom that life is still but feeble, and would doubtless have sounded strange in the ears of our fathers; and nothing is better fitted to humble and silence our foolish boasting, than a glance at the results of a religious impulse in the ages of faith. It is nowhere painted to our eyes in more vivid and magni- ficent colours than in the period of this Church's history. Many influences certainly paved the way for what in these days would be called the " success" of Dominic and Francis. As we have before said, they were wanted by their age: the world was restlessly heaving with the ex- citement of new feelings, which stirred men with emotions they neither understood nor knew hpw to use. We need not therefore wonder at the enthusiasm with which they flung themselves into the ranks of the two leaders whom God had sent them. For, after all, great men are not the exponents of their own views or sentiments. Be they saints, or heroes, or poets, their greatness consists in this, that they have incarnated some principle which lies hidden in the hearts of their fellow-men. All have felt it ; they alone have expressed and given it life; and so when the word is spoken which orings it forth to the world, all men recognize it as their own; they need no further teaching and training in this thought, for unconsciously to them- selves they have been growing into it all their lives; and the devotion with which they follow the call of him who guides them is, perhaps, the strongest sentiment of which human nature is susceptible; made up not merely of ad- miration, or loyalty, or enthusiasm, but in addition to all these, of that gratitude which a soul feels towards that greater and stronger soul whose sympathy has set its own prisoned thoughts at liberty, and given them the power and the space to act. Then like some pent-up and angry waters, that have long vexed and chafed themselves into foam, and beaten aimlessly against the wall that kept them in, when the free passage is made, how impetuously HIS MIRACLES. 95 they rush forth ! At first agitated and confused, but gatliering majesty as they flow, till the torrent becomes a river, and the river swells into a broad sea, the dash of whose long united waves no barrier can resist. This is what we call a popular movement. Europe has seen such things often enough, as well for good as for evil ; but she never saw one more universal or* more extraordinary than the first burst into existence of the mendicant orders. Francis had heen first in the field, and the first chapter of his order saw him in the midst of five thousand of his brethren. But the fields were white with the harvest, and the Friars Minor were not to be the only gatherers of it. In three months Dominic had assembled round him at Rome more than a hundred religious with whom to begin his new foundation. His convent of S. Sixtus had to be even yet more enlarged ; and here he may now be said to have carried out for the first time the entire observance of that rule of life which was commenced at S. Romain. This period of his life is everyway remarkable; it sets him before us in a new character. Hitherto we have caught but broken and imperfect glimpses of him in his life of solitary and unappreciated labour. But now at length we see him manifested to the world, ruling over a numerous community, and sending them out to be in their turn the apostles of their day. Many details of his character come out to our view which till now have lain concealed ; and as if to make him known in the eyes of men in an especial manner, God was pleased at this time to confirm his teaching and authority by many super- natural signs. The first of these was on the occasion of an accident which happened during the erection of the convent. A mason, whilst excavating under part of the building, was buried by a mass of the falling earth. The brethren ran to the spot too late to save him, but Domi- nic commanded them to dig him out, whilst he betook himself to prayer. They did so, and when the earth was removed, the man arose alive and unhurt. This miracle, however much it confirmed the faith and devotion of his own followers, was little known or talked of beyond the 9b LIFE OF 8. DOMINIO. walls of his convent ; but it was followed by another of more public notoriety. Dominic was accustomed at this time to preach in the church of S. Mark, where he was listened to with enthusiasm by crowds of all ranks who nocked to hear him. Among them one of his most constant auditors was a certain Roman widow, Guatonia or Tuta di Buvalischi ; and one day rather than miss the preach- ing, she came to S. Marks, having left her only son at home dangerously ill. She returned to her honse to find him dead. When the first anguish of her grief was over, she felt an extraordinary hope rise within her that by the mercy of God, and the prayers of His servant Domi- nic, her child might yet be restored to her. She there- fore determined to go at once to S. Sixtus; and firm in her faith she set out on foot, whilst her women servants carried the cold and lifeless body of the boy behind her. S. Sixtus was not yet inclosed, on account of the un- finished state of the convent, and she therefore entered the gates without difficulty, and found Dominic at the door of the chapter-house, a small building standing se- parate from the church and convent. Kneeling at his feet, she silently laid the dead body before him, whilst her tears and sobs of anguish told the rest. Dominic, touched with compassion, turned aside for a few moments, and prayed ; then, coming back, he made the sign of the cross over the child, and taking him by the hand, raised him, and gave him back to his mother, alive, and cured of his sickness. Some of the brethren were witnesses of this miracle, and gave their evidence in the process of canon- ization. Dominic strictly charged the mother to keep the fact a secret, but she disobeyed him, as the woman of Judea had before disobeyed One greater than him. Her joy was too abundant, and out of its abundance her heart and lips were busy, and so the whole story was quickly spread through Rome, and reached the ears of Honorius, who ordered it to be publicly announced in the pulpits of the " city. Dominic's sensative humility was deeply hurt: he hastened to the Pontiff", and implored him to counter- mand his order. " Otherwise, Holy Father," he said, " I shall be compelled to fly from hence, and cross the sea to DEVOTION OF THE ROMAN PEOPLE. 97 preach to the Saracens ; for I cannot stay longer here." The Pope, however, forbade him to depart ; he was obliged to remain and receive what is ever the most painful portion of the saints, the public honour and veneration of the populace. And certainly they evinced it with a warmth which English hearts may find it difficult to understand. They were Catholics and Romans, and so thought little of human respect, or of anything save the giving free vent to that almost passionate devotion which is the hereditary characteristic of their race. So great and little, old and young, nobles and beggars, "they followed him about" (to use the words of contemporaneous authors) " wherever he went, as though he were an angel, reputing those happy who could come near enough to touch him, and cutting off pieces of his habit to keep as relics." This cut- ting of his hajbit went on at such a pace as to give the good father the appearance of a beggar, for the jagged and ragged skirt scarcely reached below his knee. His brethren on one occasion endeavoured somewhat harshly to check some of those who crowded round him, but Dominic's good-nature was hurt when he saw the sorrowfnl and disap- pointed looks of the poor people. " Let them alone," he said ; " we have no right to hinder their devotion." A me- morial of these circumstances may still be seen in that same church of S. Mark of which we have spoken. Once a year, on the festival of its patron saint, there is an exhi- bition in that church of saintly treasures, which few sanc- tuaries can rival and none surpass. There, amid the relics of apostles and martyrs in jewelled and crystal shrines and elaborate carvings, you may see, inclosed in a golden reliquary, a little piece of torn and faded serge. Priests are there holding up these precious objects one by one for the veneration of the kneeling crowd, and they hold this also for you to look at and to kiss, whilst they proclaim aloud, "This is part of the habit of the glorious Patri- arch S. Dominic, who in the first year of his coming to Rome, was wont to preach in this church." And fancy is quick to suggest that this precious morsel may be one of those so unceremoniously torn from him by the crowds who flocked about him on that very spot. 98 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. Other miracles are related as having occurred during the time of his residence at S. Sixtus, and we give them here, as no more exact date is assigned. Giacomo del Miele, a Roman by birth, and the syndic of the convent, -was attacked by sickness, which increased so rapidly that he received extreme unction, and was desired by the phy- sician to prepare for death. The brethren were greatly afflicted, for he was a man of singular ability for his office, and much beloved. Dominic was overcome by the tears of his children: desiring them all to leave the cell, he shut the door, and, like Elias when he raised the Suna- mite's son, extended himself on the almost lifeless body of the dying man, and earnestly invoked the Divine mercy iand assistance. Then, taking him by the hand, Giacomo arose entirely recovered, and Dominic delivered him to his companions, who knew not how to contain and express their joy. Among the "Murati," whom we mentioned in a former page, and whom he still continued to visit and direct, there were some who lived a life of extraordinary mortification, and were entirely enclosed in little cells built in the walls, so as that none could enter, or communicate with their inhabitants; food and other necessaries being given to them through a window. One of these recluses was a woman named Buona, who lived in a town near the gate of S. John Lateran ; another, Lucy, in a little cell behind the church of S. Anastasia. Both of them suffered from incurable and most terrible diseases, brought on by the severity of their mode of life. One day, after Dominic had administered the sacrament of penance and the holy Eucharist to Buona through her little window, and ex- horted her to patience under her dreadful sufferings, he blessed her with the sign of the cross, and went away ; but at the same instant she felt herself perfectly cured. Lucy was likewise restored in a similiar manner, as Brother Bertrand, who was present on the occasion, attested. But perhaps the most interesting of all these miracu- lous events is one still daily commemorated in every house of the Dominican order. We are assured that a similar event happened twice during the period of his residence MIRACLE AT S. SIXTHS. 99 at S. Sixtus; but we shall only give the account of one of these circumstances, as related at length in the nar- rative of Sister Cecilia : — " When the Friars were still living near the church of S. Sixtus, and were about one hundred in number, on a certain day the blessed Dominic commanded Brother John of Calabria and Brother Albert of Rome to go into the city to beg alms. They did so without success from the morning even trl'l the third hour of the day. Therefore they returned to the convent, and they were already hard by the church of S. Anastasia, when they were met by a certain woman who had a great devotion to the order ; and seeing that they had nothing with them, she gave them a loaf; " For I would not," she said, "that you should go back quite empty-handed." As they went on a little further they met a man who asked them very importunately for charity. They excused themselves, saying they had nothing themselves ; but the man only begged the more earnestly. Then they said one to another, "What can we do with only one loaf? Let us give it to him for the love of God." So they gave him the loaf, and immediately they lost sight of him. Now, when they were come to the convent, the blessed father, to whom the Holy Spirit had meanwhile revealed all that had passed, came out to meet them, saying to them with a joyful air, "Children, you have nothing]" They re- plied, "No, father;" and they told him all that had hap- pened, and how they had given the loaf to the poor man. Then said he, " It was an angel of the Lord : the Lord will know how to provide for His own: let us go and pray." Thereupon he entered the church, and, having come out again after a little space, he bade the brethren call the community to the refectory. They replied to him saying, "But, holy father, how is it you would have us call them, seeing that there is nothing to give them to eat?" And they purposely delayed obeying the order which they had received. Therefore the blessed father caused Brother Roger the cellarer to be summoned, and commanded him to assemble the brethren to dinner, for the Lord would provide for their wants. Then they pre- pared the tables, and placed the cups, and at a given 100 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. signal all the community entered the refectory. The blessed father gave the benediction, and every one being seated, Brother Henry the Roman began to read. Mean- while the blessed Dominic was praying, hi3 hands being joined together on the table; and, lo 1 suddenly, even as he had promised them by the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, two beautiful young men, ministers of the Divine Providence, appeared in the midst of the refectory, car- rying loaves in two white cloths which hung from their shoulders before and behind. They began to distribute the bread, beginning at the lower rows, one at the right hand, and the other at the left, placing before each bro- ther one whole loaf of admirable beauty. Then, when they were come to the blessed Dominic, and had in like manner placed an entire loaf before him, they bowed their heads, and disappeared, without any one knowing, even to this day, whence they came or whither they went. And the blessed Dominic said to his brethren : " My brethren, eat the bread which the Lord has sent you." Then he told the servers to pour out some wine. But they re- plied, "Holy father, there is none." Then the blessed Dominic, full of the spirit of prophecy, said to them, " Go to the vessel, and pour out to the brethren the wine which the Lord has sent them." They went there, and found, indeed, that the vessel was filled up to the brim with an excellent wine, which they hastened to bring. And Dominic said, " Drink, my brethren, of the wine which the Lord has sent you." They ate, therefore, and drank as much as they desired, both that day, and the next, and the day after that. But after the meal of the third day, he caused them to give what remained of the bread and wine to the poor, and would not allow that any more of it should be kept in the house. During these three days no one went to seek alms, because God had sent them bread and wine in abundance. Then the blessed father made a beautiful discourse to his brethren, warning them never to distrust the Divine goodness, even in time of greatest want. Brother Tancred, the prior of the convent, Brother Odo of Rome, and Brother Henry of the same place, Brother Lawrence of England, Brother Gandion, MIRACLE AT S. SIXTUS. 101 and Brother John of Rome, and many others were present at this miracle, which they related to Sister Cecilia, and to the other sisters, who were then still living at the monastery of Santa Maria on the other side of the Tiber ; and they even brought to them some of the bread and "wine, which they preserved for a long time as relics. Now the Brother Albert, whom the Blessed Dominic had sent to beg with a companion, was one of the two brethren whose death the blessed Dominic had foretold at Rome. The other was Brother Gregory, and a man of great beauty and perfect grace. He was the first to return to our Lord, having devoutly received all the sacraments. On the third day after, Brother Albert, having also re- ceived the sacraments, departed from this darksome prison to the palace of heaven. Allusion is made in the conclu- ding part of this narrative to a circumstance which took place a little later. One day, Dominic being full of the Holy Spirit, was holding chapter, and was observed by all present to be very sad. " Children," he said, "know that within three days, two of you now present will lose the life of your bodies, and two others that of their souls." Within the time described, the two brothers named above died, as we have related ; and two others, whose names are not given, returned to the world. We said that the circumstance of the angel's visit to the refectory of S. Sixus, so beautifully related by Sister Cecilia, is still daily commemorated in the houses of the order. And it is so ; for from this time the custom was adopted of beginning to serve the lowest tables first, and so going up to the table of the prior ; a custom which was afterwards made a law of the order, being introduced into the constitutions. CHAPTER XIV Tl e monastery of Santa Maria in Trastevere. Dominic is ap- pointed to reform and inclose the community. His success. Their settlement at S. Sixtus. The restoration to life of the Lord Napoleon. Sister Cecilia Some mention was made in the last chapter of a design entertained by Pope Innocent III., to appropriate the church of S. Sixtus to a number of religious women then living in Rome without inclosure, and some even in the private houses of their relations. The design of collecting them together under regular discipline had been found fraught with difficulty, and had failed; even the papal authority, aided by the power and genius of such a man as Innocent, had been unable to overcome the wilfulness and prejudice which opposed so wise a project. Honorius, who no less than his predecessor ardently desired to see it carried out, resolved to commit the management of the whole affair to Dominic. He could not refuse ; but aware of the com- plicated obstacles which lay in the way, he made it a condition that three other persons of high authority might be united with him in a business which, he probably felt, was far harder than the foundation of many convents, namely, the reform of relaxation, and the union under one head and into one body of a number of individuals who owned no common interest or authority These religious had for a considerable time been badly governed; perhaps, we should rather say, they had not been governed at all. They claimed exemption from the ordinary rules, were members of powerful families, and their relatives, among whom many of them lived, urged them on to resist every encroachment on their liberty as an act of tyranny. And indeed, in the then existing state of things, they could not be said to be absolutely com- pelled to obedience : the matter was one rather demand- REFORM OF SANTA MARIA. 103 ing address than authority. But if ever man possessed the art of persuasion it was the blessed Dominic, whom, as it is said, "none did ever resist;" or rather persuasion with him was not art, but nature. It was the effect of that admirable union of patience, prudence, and firmness, tempered with the charm of a sweet and tranquil gaiety, which gave so wonderful a magic to his intercourse ; and his powers were never more severely tested than on this occasion. The coadjutors given him by the Pope were the cardinals Ugolino, Bishop of Ostia, the venerable friend of S. Francis; Stephen of Fossa Nuova; and Ni- cholas Bishop of Tusculum. The very first steps which the cautious commissioners took raised a storm of obloquy. The cardinals had enough to do to quiet the nuns, and bring them to listen to the Pope's proposals. But those who held out had a strong party in their favour. The gossip of Rome was on their side ; and there was a tem- pest of busy angry tongues all declaiming against tyranny and aggression, and talking great things about innovation on an ancient custom. "And truly," says Castiglio, with a touch of Spanish humour, "the custom was so very an- cient, that it could scarce keep its legs. Moreover," he adds, " we know well, that for relaxation and liberty there will always be ten thousand persons ready to do great things, but for virtue not one willing to stir a step." However, as we have said, the nuns had the popular cla- mour on their side, and they Used their advantage with considerable address. They had but to receive visitors all day long, and keep up the excitement of their friends by perpetual talking, and the Pope and cardinals would be held at bay. The most refractory of these religious were some who were living at that time in the monastery of Santa Maria in Trastevere, in which was kept a celebrated picture of our Blessed Lady, said to have been painted by S. Luke. This picture was a particular favourite with the Roman people. Tradition said that it had been brought to Rome, many centuries before, from Constantinople; that it was t >e same that had been borne processionally by S. Gre- gory in the time of the plague, on that Easter-day when 104 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. the words of the Regina Caeli were first heard snug overhead by the voices of the angelic choirs. After that Sergius III. had caused it to be placed in the Lateran Basilica, but in the middle of the night it found its own way back to the majestic old church which seemed its chosen resting-place. The possession of this picture was no inconsiderable addition to the power and popularity of the nuns ; without it they were determined never to stir, and there seemed great difficulties in the way of remoA r - ing it. Dominic's plan was simply to carry out that pre- viously designed by Pope Innocent, and collect all the nuns of the different convents that had no regular dis- cipline, as well as the others living out of inclosure, into one community, to whom he proposed giving up his own convent of S. Sixtus, receiving instead that of Santa Sa- bina on the Aventine Hill. His first visit was a failure; the very mention of inclosure and community life was received by a very intelligible assertion that they neither were nor would be controlled by him, the cardinals, or the Pope. But Dominic was not so easily daunted. He used all the skill and address of manner with whicn God had endowed him; and on his second visit he found means to win over the abbess, and after her all the community, with one solitary exception, to the wishes of the Pope. There were, however, conditions proposed and accepted. These were, that they must be suffered to carry their pic- ture with them to S. Sixtus, and should it come back to the Trastevere of itself, as in the days of Pope Sergius, that they should be held free to come back after it. Do- minic consented ; but, saving this clause, he induced them to profess obedience in all else to himself ; and they having done so, he gave them as their first trial a prohibition to leave their convent in order to visit any of their friends or relatives ; assuring them that in a very short time S. Sixtus should be ready to receive them. After this it seemed as though the affair were pretty well settled; "but" (to use the words of the grave and judicious Polidori) " the instability of human nature, and especially of the female sex, easy to be moved by whatso- ever wind may blow, did very soon make the contrary to REFORM OF SANTA MARIA. 105 appear." The wise regulation which Dominic had made was evaded, and the vituperating tongues were busier than ever. There were no terms too strong to use in denouncing the proposed migration to S. Sixtus. It would be the destruction of an ancient and honourable monastery ; they were about blindly to put themselves under an intolerable yoke of obedience, and to whom ? - — to a new man, a "/rate," whose order nobody had ever heard of before — a scoundrel (ribaldo), as some were pleased to term him ; they must certainly have been be- witched. The. nuns began to think so too, and many repented of their too hasty promise. Whilst this new disturbance was going on, Dominic was relating the suc- cess of his mission to the cardinals. But the fresh dis- orders which had arisen were revealed to him by the Holy Spirit even at the moment that they occurred. He re- solved to let the excitement exhaust itself a little before taking any new measure; and a day or two afterwards proceeded to the convent, where, having said mass, he assembled all the religious in chapter, and addressed them at considerable length. He concluded with these words: " I well know, my daughters, that you have repented of the promise you gave me, and now desire to withdraw your feet from the ways of God. Therefore, let those among you who are truly and spontaneously willing to go to S. Sixtus make their profession over again in my hands." The eloquence of his address, heightened by that strange and wonderful charm of manner to which all who knew him bear witness, whilst none can describe it, was victorious. The abbess instantly renewed her pro- fession (with the same condition respecting the picture), and her example was followed by the whole community. Dominic was well satisfied with their sincerity; neverthe- less he thought it well to add one precaution against further relapse. It was a simple one, and consisted of taking the keys of the gate into his own custody, and ap- pointing some of his own lay brothers to be porters, with orders to provide the nuns with all necessaries, but to prevent their seeing or speaking with relatives or anV other person whatsoever. 106 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. On Ash Wednesday, which fell that year on the 28th of February, the cardinals assembled at S. Sixtus, whither the abbess and her nuns also proceeded in solemn pro- cession. They met in the little chapter-house before mentioned, where Dominic raised to life the widow's child. The abbess solemnly surrendered all office and authority into the hands of Dominic and his brethren; whilst they, on their part, with the cardinals, proceeded to treat concerning the rights, government, and revenues of the new convent. Whilst thus engaged, the business of the assembly was suddenly interrupted by an incident which is best told in the language of one of the eye- witnesses : — " Whilst the blessed Dominic was seated with the cardinals, the abbess and her nuns being present, behold! a man entered, tearing his hair and uttering loud cries. Being asked the cause, he replied, ' The nephew of my lord Stephen has just fallen from his horse, and is killed !' Now the young man was called Napoleon. His uncle, hearing him named, sank fainting on the breast of the blessed Dominic. They supported him ; the blessed Dominic rose, and threw holy water on him ; then, leaving him in the arms of the others, he ran to the spot where the body of the young man was lying, bruised and horribly mangled. He ordered them im- mediately to remove it to another room, and keep it there. Then he desired Brother Tancred, and the other brethren to prepare everything for Mass. The blessed Dominic, the cardinals, friars, the abbess and all the nuns, then went to the place where the altar was, and the blessed Dominic celebrated the Holy Sacrifice with an abundance of tears. But when he came to the elevation of our Lord's Body, and held it on high between his hands, as is the custom, he himself was raised a palm above the ground, all beholding the same, and being filled with great wonder at the sight. Mass being finished, he returned to the body of the dead man ; he and the cardinals, the abbess, the nuns, and all the people who were present ; and when he was come, he arranged the limbs one after another with his holy hand, then prostrated himself on the ground, praying and SISTER CECILIA. 107 weeping. Thrice he touched the face and limbs of the deceased, to put them in their place, and thrice he prostrated himself.. When he was risen for the third time, standing on the side where his head was, he made the sign of the cross ; then with his hands extended towards heaven, his body raised more than a palm above the ground, he cried with a loud voice, saying, 1 young man, Napoleon, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, I say unto thee, Arise.' Immediately, in the sight of all those who had been drawn together by so marvellous a spectacle, the young man arose alive and unhurt, and said to the blesssed Dominic, * Father, give me to eat;' and the blessed Dominic gave him to eat and to drink, and committed him, joyful and without sign of hurt, to the cardinal, his uncle."* It must be acknowledged, there is a wonderful grandeur in this narrative. We realize at once the alarm and emotion of the bystanders, and the supernatural calm and tran- quillity of the saint, who was acting under the Spirit of God. Never, perhaps, was any miracle better attested, or more accurately described ; and, as we shall hereafter see, it bor^ abundant fruits. Four days after, on the first Sunday in Lent, the nuns took possession of their convent. They were forty-four in all, including a few seculars, and some religious of other convents. The first who spontaneously threw her- self at Dominic's feet, and begged the habit of his order, was the same sister Cecilia whose narrative has been just quoted. She was then but seventeen, of the house of Cesarini, and distinguished for the great qualities of her soul, even more than for the nobility of her birth. Meagre as is the account left us concerning her, we scarcely feel the want of further details, for her character is sufficiently evidenced in the little which is preserved. She had a soul large enough to appreciate that of Dominic. Child as she was, she had been quick to recognize, and value at their true worth, the qualities of that mind which had brought into order the tempes- tous and disorganized elements of the community of * Narrative of Sister Cecillia. 108 LIFE OP S. DOMINIC. the Trastevere. Then she became an eye-witness of that great miracle which we have just related in her own beautiful language ; and the admiration which she had already felt for him was raised to a devotion as fervent as it was lasting. We are told that Dominic com- municated to her the most hidden secrets of his heart ; and we feel in reading the narative which she has left, so noble and touching in its biblical simplicity, that she was worthy of such confidence. Her example was followed by that of all the nuns ; all received the habit of the cew order, and took the vow ofinclosure. Dominic waited until night-fall before he ventured to remove the picture so often named ; he feared lest some excitement and disturbance might be caused by this be- ing done in broad day, for the people of the city felt a jealous unwillingness to suffer it to depart. However, at midnight, accompanied by the two cardinals, Nicholas and Stephen, and many other persons, all barefoot and carrying torches, he conducted it in solemn procession to S. Sixtus, where the nuns awaited its approach with similar marks of respect. It did not return ; and its quiet domestication in the new house complete^ the settle- ment of the nuns. They were soon after joined by twenty-one others from various other houses, and thus was formed the second house of religious women living under the rule of S. Dominic. CjOO — CHAPTER XV Affairs of the Order in France. First settlement of the brethren at the convent of St. James at Paris. Foundation at Bologna Character of the religious houses of the Order. Settlement of the Friars in Spain and Portugal. Brothers Tancred and Henry of Rome. Before we proceed to give any account of the settle- ment of S. Dominic at the convent of Santa Sabina, whither he removed after that of S. Sixtus had been given up to the nuns, as" just related, it will be necessary FOUNDATION AT PARIS. . 109 for us to speak of several events which had taken place since his departure from Toulouse in the autumn of the preceding year. Various were the discouragements and difficulties which had attended the first outset of the missionaries sent from Prouille. . -;I)pminic of Segovia and Michel de UzeroiiaJ returned from Spain without having been able to' succeed in establishing themselves in that country ; and had joined their brethren in Rome. The little community destined for the French capital had scarcely fared better, and might possibly have abandoned their project in a similar manner, had it not been for the presence of the Englishman Lawrence. " For as they drew near to that great city, they went along in great doubt and affliction, because in their humility they greatly feared to preach in so celebrated a university, where there were so many famous doctors and masters versed in sacred science ; but Godwin order to encourage them, revealed to his servant Lawrence all that should hereafter happen to this mission, and all the favours which God and the Blessed Virgin would show them in the house of S. James, and all the bright stars, as well of sanctity as of learning, that should rise from thence, to illuminate not the order only, but the entire Church ; which revelation, as it greatly comforted the soul of brother Lawrence, so he in like manner declared it to his companions, to animate them also ; and they believing it, for the opinion which all had of the sanctity of that servant of God, conceived a lively faith. Where- fore they joyfully entered into the city where all things happened as he had predicted. "* Notwithstanding this "joyful entry," they spent ten months in extreme distress. None of them were known in Paris except Matthew of France, who in his youth had studied at the university ; and Lawrence very shortly after was summoned to Rome, where he was present, as we have seen, before the removal of the Friars from S. Sixtus. It was not until the August of 121*8, nearly a year after their departure from Prouille, that John de • From a short notice of blessed Lawrence in Marchese's, H Diaro Dome/iicano," drawn from ancient writers 110 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. Barastre, one of the king's chaplains and a professor of the university, having been struck by the singular effects of their preaching, and their patient endurance of so much poverty and suffering, persuaded his colleagues to grant them the little c&srcJi of S. James, then attached to an hospital for poor strangers, 'aft^ffrards the most celebrated house' of that order. But besides the missionaries whom he had already sent from Prouille, Dominic had not been long in Rome before he began to dispose of some of the followers who had so soon been gathered there about his standard. It seems certain that it was whilst still inhabi- ting S. Sixtus, that John of Navarre (who had returned with Lawrence from Paris), Brother Bertrand, Brother Christian, and Peter, a lay brother, were despatched to lay the first foundation of the order in Bologna. Their preaching soon attracted general attention ; they are said to have been the first religious who had ever been heard to preach publicly in Bologna, and the astonishment and admiration felt for their eloquence was increased when it was understood that they were the children of Dominic, whose name was not unknown to the Bolognese. Two houses were soon given to them, with the accompanying grant of a neighbouring church, called Santa Maria della Mascarella. They were soon after joined by the two brethren who had returned from Spain and a few others whom Dominic despatched from Borne ; but they had to struggle with many difficulties. As soon as they could, they began to arrange their house into a conventual form, building a very humble refectory and dormitory ; for it seems to have been always felt as ,a first and indispensable requisite in these early foundations of the order to have a religious house, in order to carry out their rule in a re- ligious spirit, and this even at a time when the commu- nity consisted of no more than four or five persons. That this was done from a deep conviction of the utility and necessity of such external observances, and not from a love of show, or a desire to build great establishments, is evident if we look at the way in which it was done. " As well as they could" (we are told in the account of this Bolognese foundation), " considering the confined space, CHARACTER OF THE EIRST HOUSES. Ill they made a dormitory and refectory, with other necessary offices ; their cells were so small, that they were not more than seven feet long and four feet two inches wide, so that they could scarce contain a hard and narrow bed and a few other things; hut they were more content with this poor habitation than if they had possessed the largest and most magnificent palaces."* Here they led "a life of angels;" and "so wonderful was their regular observance, and their continual and fervent prayer ; so extraordinary their poverty in eating, in their beds and clothes, and all such things, that never had the like been seen before in that city." They continued to live in this way, without making much progress, and, in spite of their first favourable recep- tion, enduring many affronts and persecutions, until the end of the year 1218, when, as we shall see, a fresh impulse was given to their enterprise by the arrival among them ot one man, the celebrated Reginald of Orleans. Certainly, if we wish to form an idea of the true spirit of the order, we cannot do better than dwell on what is preserved to us concerning the manner of these first foun- dations. Throughout all of them we shall find the same characteristics. The great missionary work of preaching and saving souls was the first thing thought of; every- thing gave way to that. They were scattered abroad right and left, as soon as they had given themselves to the work, for Dominic never departed from the inflexible law which he had laid down at Prouille: — "We must sow the seed, and not hoard it up." Doubtless there must often have been hard sacrifices and struggles with nature in this; his children were separated from him as soon as they had learnt to love him; and, to use the expression of blessed Jordan, in speaking of his departure from Bologna on a late occasion, " they wept to be so soon taken from their mother's breast." " But all these things," he adds, " happened by the will of God. There was something marvellous in the way in which he was wont to disperse the brethren here and there through all parts of the Church of God, in spite of all the representations often made to him, and without his confidence being once dis * Michel Pio of Bologna. 112 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. quieted by a shadow of hesitation. One might have said he knew beforehand their success, and that the Holy Spirit had revealed it to him; and indeed who would dare to doubt it ? He had with him to begin but a small number of brethren, for the most part simple and illiterate, whom he sent through the world by twos and threes; so that the children of the world, who judge according to human prudence, were wont to accuse him of destroying what he had begun, rather than of building up a great edifice. But he accompanied those whom he sent forth with his prayer ; and the power of God was granted to them to multiply them." But though this was the first thought, it wa3 never so followed out as to induce the neglect of the fundamentals of religious observance. The Friars Preachers were to sacrifice all comfort, and all human ties for the work of God ; they were to endure poverty, humiliation, and detachment of heart in its most painful form ; but one thing they were not to sacrifice, and that was the character of religious, and the habits of regular observance. Whilst they begged their bread, and lived on alms, the first thing on which those alms were expended was the rude and imperfect conversion of their poor dwellings into a re- ligious shape. We feel at once how different such a plan of proceeding is from our modern notions ; and the difference is more important than appears at first sight. " Let us have essentials," is the favourite expression of our own day ; "let us only do our work ; the external forms are of secondary importance." But the language of the saints and the men of faith was rather, " Let us have the religious spirit, for without it our work will be of no avail;" and in their deep and living humility they acknowledged that they were powerless to retain this spirit, made up as it is of prayer and recollection £.nd continual self-restraint, without certain external helps and hindrances which modern theorists feel themselves privi- leged to despise. Every part of the Dominican rule and constitutions breathes of this principle; whilst the salva- tion of souls is ever placed before us as the end and object of the order, the formation of the religious man CHARACTER OF THE FIRST HOUSES. 113 himself is provided for by regulations of the most aston- ishing minuteness; and as a part, and an essential part, of these, there is given us the beautiful ordering of the, religious house We do not mean to assert that this necessary con- nection between the outward form and the inward spirit is anywhere stated in express terms, for there was not much talk about theories and general principles among men in the Middle Ages ; yet, perhaps unconsciously to themselves, they ever acted under a deep prevailing sense of this sacramental character of our being. They believed that not in soul alone, but also in body, the whole nature was to be made subject to Christ ; and with the simplicity of antique wisdom, they condescended to provide for this by making laws, not only for their work and their prayer, but even for their houses and their dress. The religious man was ever to be surrounded by an atmosphere redolent with sanctity; he was to reflect a light of holiness cast on him by the very walls of his dwelling. Nothing, therefore, was neglected by which they could be invested with this peculiar character. They were the mould in which souls were insensibly to receive a shape that separated them from the world. The amateurs of ecclesiastical architecture tell us that, in its purest form, no ornament will ever be found introduced for ornament's sake; there was always a use and significance in the most fanciful and grotesque of those elaborate designs. And so in the conventual house, common and necessary things were not exchanged for what was fanciful or extraordinary; but a religious form and colouring was given to the whole. Thus the man who was being trained to the life of religion was placed where he saw nothing that did not harmonize with that one idea. His refectory was as unlike a dining-room as possible : it was as much a room to pray in, as to eat in. There, ranged in a single row behind the simple wooden tables that stood on either hand, sat the same white robed figures beside whom he stood in the choir, and with an air scarcely less modest and devout. At the top was the Prior's seat ; there I 114 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. were neither pictures nor ornaments on the wall, only a large crucifix above that seat, to which all were to bow on entering; for even in hours of relaxation the religious man was to be mindful of the sufferings of his Lord. There was no talking or jesting as in the feasting of the world, for the refectory was a place of inviolable silence ; but from a little pulpit one of the brethren read aloud (as we have seen brother Henry represented doing in the scene of S. Sixtus), that, to use the words of the old rule of S. Austin, " whilst the body was refreshed, the soul also might have its proper food." The house was to be poor and simple, having " no curiosities or notable superfluities, such as sculpture, pavements, and the like, save in the church," where some degree of ornament was allowed to do reverence to the presence of God. The dormitory too had its own character; the cells were all alike in size and arrangement, for here all were equal. They were separate, that every one might be silent and alone with God; yet partly open, that the watchful eye of the superior might never be shut out. Even the dormitory-passage itself had something holy ; for it was ordained, that " to promote piety and devotion to the Blessed Virgin, the especial Patroness of the order, an altar with her image should be erected in the dormitory of every convent," and here the lamp was kept burning throughi the night. Each of these places had its own sweet tradition. Angels, as we have seen, have before now served in the Dominican refectories ; nor, as we gaze on such a scene, do we feel they were out of place ; and the dormitories have been blessed no less than the choir with the sweet presence of Mary, who through those open doors has given her benediction to the sleeping brethren, and sprinkled them with her dear maternal hand. Surely these houses were as the gate of heaven. All about them were holy sentences, preach- ing from the walls ; poverty reigned everywhere, but clad in the beauty and majesty of that spirit of order, which lias been fitly termed, " the music of the eye." All things were in common, and common things were made to speak of God; yet there was neither gloom nor CHARACTER OF THE FIRST HOUSES. 115 melancholy, but rather a glad and cheerful aspect, tempered by the pervading tone of silence and recollection ; so that the beholder might well exclaim, " How good and joyful a thing it is for brethren to dwell together in unity !" At the risk of being tedious on a subject which may not perhaps be felt to be of general interest, we would but suggest how often we must feel, in reading the earlier devotional writers, that many of their most charming passages could only have been inspired in a house of this character. The author of the following sentences had certainly caught their spirit nowhere but in a religious refectory : " He that reads words of holy wisdom to his brother, offers choice wine to the lips of Jesus. — He that at table gives up to his brother the better portion, feeds Jesus with the honey of charity.— He that during refection reads to his brethren correctly and distinctly, serves up a heavenly cup to the guests of Jesus; but if he reads ill, he takes away the relish of the food; and if he stammers, he stains the cloth which covers the table of Jesus. — He that goes to the common refectory with his brethren to hear spiritual reading, eateth and drinketh with Jesus and His disciples ; and if he lay up in his heart the word of God which he hears, he reposes with S. John, during supper, on the breast of Jesus."* Writing in a day, and in a country where our holy and beautiful houses have long ago been swept away, and the ideas that raised them have become lost like historical antiquities, we well know how difficult it is to realize the true significance of the monastic rules. They and all their accompaniments are looked on as, at best, but dreary fancies which have had their day, but could never stand the test of utility. " To what purpose is this waste?" is the continual cry of England over the relics of her old religion. Nevertheless our fathers had their purpose, and did not deem it waste; and we are desirous of directing our reader's attention to the particular care evinced in this matter by the founder of the Dominican order, because, if we do not mistake, it illustrates one prominent characteristic of his own * Thomas a Kempis, Garden of Ross, ch. xvii. 116 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. mind, as well as of the institution which was its off- spring,, and which bore and ever retains the likeness of its father. The life of a saint like S. Dominic is not made up alone of journeys and foundations and the dates of his birth and death ; his living soul is to be found in the rule whose most striking features were the im- pression of his own hand : and it is not a little remark- able that, together with that free and pliable spirit which is one of its distinguishing characters, there should be this invariable adhesion to the externals of monastic and community life. The* same ruie was observed in all the foundations of the order, and this of course by the particular direction of its founder; and the fact reveals more of his mind and feeling than whole volumes of commentary. It exhibits him to us in that mixed char- acter of contemplation and action, the union of which is the basis of the Dominican life : we see him at once, "the Jacob of preaching and the Israel of contempla- tion;" and we see also what in his eyes constituted the essentials of such a life, and the indispensable means for attaining it. In Spain blessed Peter had succeeded in founding a convent at Madrid, of which foundation, however, no particulars are preserved. Two of his companions, as we have seen, returned to rejoin Dominic at Rome, whilst the third, Suero Gomez, went on to his native country of Portugal, where he became known to the Infanta Donna Sancha, who gave him a little solitary oratory on Monte Sagro, about six miles from Alancher, dedicated to Santa Maria ad Nvves. Here he built a miserably poor con- vent, or father hermitage, formed of stones and straw cemented together with mud, "according to the manner of those first days of fervour in the order." He lived in this singular dwelling alone for some time, but very soon numbers of all ranks flocked to him to receive the habit from his hands-; and "though they were so many, and of such character and nobility as might have done honour to any order in the Chnrch, yet did he not bate one iota in the rigours which he had learnt from his holy master, and which were established as laws in tho BROTHERS TANCRED AND HENRY OF ROME. 117 constitutions."* Every day he preached in the city, which 8X)n became renowned for its sanctity of manners. He was a true son of Dominic, " thinking only how to sow the Divine word, and caring nothing for his own body ; " and bo, little by little, the mud hermitage was frequented like a place of pilgrimage, and the crowds who thronged there to see and hear one whom they reckoned rather as ' an angel or apostle than as a common man, com- pelled him to enlarge his dwelling in order to receive them ; so that in the following year, when Dominic himself visited the spot, he found a spacious and well- ordered convent, the mother-house of the order in Por- tugal. Suero was in every way a remarkable man : his adherence to the rule, even in the minutest par- ticular, was almost a proverb. In 1220, when he went to Bologna to attend the first general Chapter, he per- formed the whole journey on foot, carrying only a stick and his breviary, and so begged his way the entire distance. He became afterwards the first Provincial of Spain. It only remains for us to add a few words concerning some of the brethren whose names have already been mentioned as having joined the order at Rome. Tancred, the prior of S. Sixtus, had been called in a singular way. He was a German, and a courtier of the Emperor Frederic II. Being at Bologna when the first brethren arrived there, he was one day made sensible of a singular and powerful impression on his soul, urging him to reflect on the great question of eternity in a manner wholly new to him. Disturbed and agitated, he prayed to the Blessed Virgin for direction ; and in the night she appeared to him, saying these words : " Gro to my house- hold." He awoke in doubt as to their meaning, but in a second dream there appeared to him two men dressed in the habit of the order, the elder of whom addressed him, saying, " Thou hast asked of Mary to be directed in the way of salvation : come with us, and thou shalt find it." In the morning he begged his host to direct him to the nearest church, that he might hear mass. As he * Michel Pio 118 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. entered, the first figure he met was that of the old man he had seen in his vision ; the church was in fact Santa Maria, in Mascarella, and the friar was none other than the Prior Roger. Tancred's mind was soon made up as to his future course ; and, abruptly severing his engagements with the court he proceeded to Rome, where he took the habit. Henry of Rome, who has also been mentioned, entered the order against the earnest remonstrances of his family. As they expressed a determination to carry him back by force if he would not return, Dominic sent him out of Rome, with some companions, by the Via Nomentana. His relatives pursued him as far as the banks of the Anio. Seeing there was no chance of escape, Henry raised his heart to God, and invoked His help through the merits of His servant Dominic; and the waters of the little stream suddenly increased to so large and rapid a torrent, that the horses of his pursuers were unable to pass. After this he returned undisturbed to S. Sixtus. After the sisters had removed to that convent, thirty of the friars were left there under the government of Tancred, but in a distinct and separate house ; for the convent at Santa Sabina was not yet able to contain them all. Brother Otho, also a Roman by birth, was appointed the prior and director of the nuns. CHAPTER XVI. Dominic at Santa Sabina. The Vocation of S. Hyacinth. Regi- nald of Orleans. The Blessed Virgin bestows on him the habit of the order. It is said that all lives have their chapter of poetry ; if so, the poem of Dominic's life is now opening before us. No period of his history is at once so rich in legendary beauty, and so full of ample and delightful details, as that of his residence at Santa Sabina — the church which, as we have already said, had been granted CONVENT OF SANTA SABINA. 119 to him and his brethren by Pope Honorius when they abandoned S. Sixtus to the nuns of the Trastevere. It was attached to the palace of the Savelli, of which family Honorius was a member ; and we are told that the change of residence was particularly welcome to the friars, inasmuch as the neighborhood was at that time more thickly populated than that of S. Sixtus, and the church was one of popular resort. This character has long since departed from it ; and the tide of population, retreating every year further and further to the west, has left the Aventine hill once more to its silent and solitary beauty. Built on the brow of tha£ hill, as it rises abruptly above the Tiber, the convent of Santa Sabina stands between the ancient and the modern city. On one side it looks over a long vista of churches and palaces, until the golden glow of the horizon above Monte Mario is cut by the clear sharp outline of that wonderful dome which rises over the tomb of the apostles. Turn but your head, and you gaze over a different world. Heaped all about in fantastic confusion, there are the arches of gigantic ruins, and the broken walls and watch-towers standing among the vineyards; and beyond them is the wide Campagna stretching like a sea into the dim horizon, spanned by the long lines of the aqueducts, that seem as though they reached the very base of those distant mountains which stand round the Eternal city as "the hills stand about Jerusalem." S. Sixtus is not far off, you may find your way down to it through the green and pleasant lanes that wind among the almond-trees ; everything here seems full of Dominic ; and when the story of his life has become dear and familiar to us, the whole of the Aventine seems consecrated as his shrine.* -::- The convent of Santa Pabina remains little altered since the timeof S. Dominic, and many memorials of him are still preserved within its walls. Among others is an orange-tree said to have been planted by his hand, which is shown ki the quadrangular inclosure. A few years since, this tree sent out a young and viaourous sucker, which grew aud flourished, and in the course of the year 18:4 produced flowers and fruit. It was remarked that this took place during the noviciate of Pere Lacordaire and his companions, to 120 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. It was here, then, that the friars removed as soon as the nuns had taken possession of their former residence; and they had not long settled in their new consent when some very remarkable additions were made to their num- bers. Ivo Odrowatz, the Polish Bishop of Cracow, was at that time in Rome, having in his company his two nephews, Ceslaus and Hyacinth, both of them canons of his cathredral, and men of singular virtue. They had all been present in S. Sixtus on the occasion of the raising of the young Napoleon to life, and when, by means of Cardinal Ugolino, they became personally acquainted with Dominic, the deep impression made on their minds by that scene was increased by his saintly and winning manners. Ivo urged him to send some of his brethren to the northern countries, but the difficulties of the language seemed to offer an insuperable obstacle to this plan ; Dominic, however, suggested that were some of his own followers to take the habit, it would be the best way of carrying out his wishes. A few days after this Hyacinth and Ceslaus, with two others, Henry whom is due the restoration of the French province ; and the little incident was hailed as significant of that universal restoration and return to youthful vigour and the beauty of regular discipline whose impulse since tuat period has been manifested throughout the entire order . A singular discovery has recently been made within the inclosure of this convent. ' About three months ago" (says Cardinal Wise- man in his lecture on " Rome, Ancient and Modern," delivered January 31,18 6,) " the good religious wi -hed to make an alteration in their garden, and reduce it more into the English style. They were, of course, their own workmen , and it was not long before their industry was repaid. They met with an opening, into which they entered, and found an anci nt Chri.-tian hall elegantly painted in arabesque. Having cleared it out, they found an entrance into another chamber. In this way they went forward from room to room ; so that when I last heard, about a fortnight fsgo, they were arrived at the tenth apartment. The discovery has exc ted immense interest, no suspicion having been entertained of such a monument existing there. One room is covered with names of about the third or fourth century, only one of which had then been deciphered. But this excavation is further important in another way. For the first piece of antiquity discovered was a portion of the wall of Tullius, the early king of Rome; and fhis recurring at a distance from a portion found, a few years ago, in the.Iesuit's neighbouring vineyard, in planting new vines, decides the direction of the wall, and the boundary ol the primitive city." VOCATION OF S. HYACINTH. 121 of Moravia, and Herman, a noble German, presented themselves at Santa Sabina, and, throwing themselves at the feet of the saint, begged to be allowed to enter the order. They were joyfully received, and their pro- gress was as rapid as it was extraordinary. Doubtless in those days of early fervour, the growth of souls plant- ed in a very atmosphere of sanctity was quicker and more vigorous than now ; and we are led to exclaim, " There were giants in those days," when we find these four novices, within six months after their first admission, ready to return to their own country to be the founders and propagators of the order. They travelled back with the bishop of Cracow, preaching as they went. Sapara- tion, that law of the Dominican institute, was the lot that awaited them also. Hyacinth and Ceslaus pursued their way to the north, where they divided the land be- tween them. Ceslaus planted the order in Bohemia, whilst the apostolate of Hyacinth extended over Russia, Sweden, Norway, Prussia, and the Northern nations of Asia. Dominic's old dream of a mission to the Cumans became realized in the labours of this the greatest of his sons, and in him the order of Friars Preachers took possession of half the known world. Henry proceeded to Styria and Austria, and founded many convents, es- pecially that of Vienna. An account of singular beauty is left of his death. He fell sick in the convent of Wrateslavia ; and finding his last hour draw near, he fixed his eyes on a crucifix before him, and sang sweetly while he had strength. After a little space he was silent, yet smiled, and put his hands together, and showed in his eyes and his whole face a great and inexplicable joy. Then, after a brief time he spake and said, " The demons are come, and would fain disturb and trouble my faith, but I believe in God the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost :" and with these words on his lips he gently expired. Herman, the fourth of this society, was left at Friesach to govern a convent founded in that place. He was a man of extraordinary devotion, though of small learning. In consequence of his simplicity and ignorance he was often despised and ridiculed by his 122 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. companions ; and, seeking comfort from God in prayer, lie obtained the gift of so much understanding of the holy Scriptures that, without study of any kind, he was enabled to preach not only in German, but also in Latin, with extraordinary eloquence and success. But another disciple was to be gathered into the order during this same year, whose career, if shorter than any of those we have mentioned, was scarcely less bril- liant; and who was destined to exercise a considerable influence over some of the most important of the early foundations. Indeed, there were singular marks of a Providential ordering of things, in what seemed the acci- dental assembling at Rome that year of so many men whose hearts were ready for the work which was prepar- ing for them there. Among these he of whom we are about to speak was not the least distinguished. Reginald, deacon of the church of Orleans, had come there, in company with the bishop, with the intention of visiting the holy place, and thence passing on in pilgrimage to Jerusalem. He was already known as a profound doctor in canon law, and held the chair of that science in the University of Paris. But brilliant as was his intellect, and the renown which it had procured him, it did not satisfy him ; for he had within him something greater than genius, and a thirst which the world's applause could not satiate. Whilst the world of Paris was busy with his fame, there had come upon him a desire to abandon all things for Christ, and to take refuge from popular applause in some state where he could spend his life for the souls of others, while his own should be made a sharer in the very poverty and nakedness of the crucifix. His pilgrimage to Rome and Jerusalem was undertaken under this idea : it formed part of his plan for breaking loose from the ties of his present life, and searching for the better part to which he felt he was called and chosen. The result must be told in the words of blessed Humbert : " He prepared himself for this ministry, therefore, though he knew not in what way he was to carry it out ; for he was ignorant that the order of Friars Preachers had as yet been instituted. REGINALD OF ORLEANS. 123 Now it chanced that in a confidential discourse with a certain cardinal he opened to him his whole heart on this matter, saying to him that he greatly desired to quit all things in order to go about preaching Jesus Christ in a state of voluntary poverty. Then the cardi- nal said to him, ' Lo ! there is an order just risen up, whose end is to unite the practice of poverty with the office of preaching ; and the master of this new order is even now present with us in the city, who also himself preaches the word of God.' Now when Master Reginald heard this, he hastened to seek out the blessed Dominic, and to reveal to him the secret of his soul. *Then the sight of the saint, and the graciousness of his words, captivated his heart, and he resolved to enter into the order. But adversity, which proves so many holy pro- jects, failed not in like manner to try his also. He fell sick, so that the physicians despaired even of saving his life. The blessed Dominic, grieving at the thought of losing a child ere as yet he had scarcely enjoyed him, turned himself to the Divine mercy, earnestly imploring God (as he himself has related to the brethren) that He would not take from him a son as yet but hardly born, but at least to prolong his life, if it were but a little while. And even whilst he yet prayed, the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, and Mistress of the World, accompanied by two young maidens of surpassing beauty, appeared to Master Reginald as he lay awake and parched with a burning fever ; and he heard the Queen of Heaven speaking to him, and saying, 'Ask me what thou wilt, and I will give it to thee.' And as he considered within himself, one of the maidens who accompanied the Blessed Virgin suggested to him that he should ask nothing, but should leave it to the will and pleasure of the Queen of Mercy, to the which he right willingly assented. Then she, extending her virginal hand, anointed his eyes, ears, nostrils, mouth, hands, reins, and feet, pronouncing certain words meanwhile appropriate to each anointing. I have heard only those which she spake at the unction of his reins and feet : the first were, 'Let thy reins be girt with the girdle of 124 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. chastity ;' and the second, ' Let thy feet be shod for the preaching of the Gospel of Peace.' Then she showed to him the habit of the Friars Preachers, saying to him, ' Behold the habit of thy order,' and so she disappeared from his eyes. And at the same time Reginald perceived that he was cured, having been anointed by the Mother of Him who has the secrets of salvation and of health. And the next morning, when Dominic came to him, to ask him how he fared, he answered that nothing ailed him, and so told him the vision. Then both together did render thanks to God, who strikes and heals, who wounds and who makes whole." Three days after this Dominic again came to his room, bringing with him a religious of the Hospitallers of S. John. And as they sat all three together, the same scene was repeated in the sight of all. We are told by some that on her former appearance the Blessed Virgin had promised this repetition of her previous visit, and that Reginald had mentioned this fact to S. Dominic. He now conjured him and his companions to keep the whole of the circumstances secret until after his death ; and he did this out of humility. Dominic complied with his request ; and in announcing to his brethren his in- tention of changing the form of their habit, he did not give the reason which had caused the change until after Reginald' s death. Until this time the habit of the regu- lar canons had continued to be worn by all the brethren ; it was now changed for that which had been shown by Mary to Reginald, and which Dominic had himself seen on the second occasion of her appearance. The linen sur- plice was laid aside, and in its place was used the long woollen scapular, which was the particular part of the habit she was seen holding in her hands. Thenceforward this has been the distinctive sign of religious profession among the Friars Preachers; and the words with which it is accompanied in the ceremony of the giving of the habit, mark at once its origin, and the reverence with which its wearers are accustomed to regard it : " Receive the holy scapular of our order, the most distinguished part of our Dominican habit, the maternal pledge from heaven HIS LABOURS AT HOME. 125 of the love of the Blessed Virgin Mary towards us." This especial love of Mary for the order of Friars Preachers is indeed a claim which we do not wonder at their—making, when we consider the many ways in which it has been evinced. In those early days of the order one of the popular names by which the brethren were known, was that of " the Friars of Mary j" a title which reveals to ns how filial was the devotion which they felt for the Mother who had clothed them with her own hands ; and we shall find, among the traditions of Santa Sabina, other tales which show us the singular and tender nature of the pro- tection she gave them. Some of these traditions, illustrating as they do this period of Dominic's life, we will give in the following chapters, together with that sketch of what we may term his conventual habits, which has been left us by blessed Jordan and other early writers ; and they will probably render us more familiar with his personal character than any other portion of his history, Meanwhile Reignald of Orleans departed for the Holy Land, whence he did not return until the conclusion of the year. CHAPTER XVII. Dominic's life at Koine. The rule of the Order. Description of his person and appearance. His prayer, and manner of life. When Dominic was fairly settled at Santa Sabina, he saw himself surrounded by a multiplicity of cares and occupations, any one of which would have demanded the whole strength and time of an ordinary man. There was the government of two communities : that of his own convent, a company of novices gathered from all ranks and ages, unused to rule and discipline, and who had to learn the whole science of religion from his lips alone; while the training of the nuns of S. Sixtus was even a 126 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. harder task, for with them there were long habits of negligence and relaxation to eradicate, before the spirit of fervour and observance could possibly be infused. How hard and difficult a thing it was, we may judge, from the unwearied assiduity with which Dominic laboured at his task. He visited them daily, instructing them in the most minute particulars of their rule ; and sent to Prouille for eight of the more experienced religious of that house, one of whom, Sister Blanche, was appointed prioress. His long and patient care was not thrown away. Inclo- sure and the observance of a holy rule produced their usual marvels, and transformed the undisciplined nuns of the Trastevere into mirrors of sanctity and grace. These two undertakings, carried on at the same time, called for a genius of government which few have ever possessed in a more remarkable degree than S. Dominic. But within his soul there lay vast resources, and a certain fullness of spiritual light which never failed to guide him in the guidance of others ; so at least we are led to affirm if we contemplate him alone and unaided in his gigantic tasks. And if we are curious to know the means whereby he achieved them, we must seek for them in that rule which, if we mistake not, exhibits to us more of the character of his mind than we can gather from any other source. " The Christian perfection which he taught " (to use the admirable words of Castiglio) " consisted primarily indeed in the love of God and of our neighbour ; but secondarily and accidentally in that silence and solitude, and in those fasts, mortifications, disciplines, and ceremonies, which are the instruments whereby we reach unto that high and most excellent end." It would seem indeed as if these "ceremonies" he speaks of formed no insignificant part of Dominic's great idea of spiritual training. We read of his ?' diligent training of the nuns in the rules and cere- monies;" and again S. Hyacinth is said to have become a perfect master in " all the ordinances and ceremonies of the order during his short noviciate." And if we examine the rule itself, we find in it very much of this outward training so deep and significant in its intention, and so great in its results. This arose partly from the sagacity HIS PERSONAL APPEARANCE. 127 which perceived how large an influence is exerted over the inner man by the subjugation of his external nature; partly also from a characteristic feature in Dominic's mind, the love of order. Whilst wholly free from the narrowness of mere formalism, his soul yet delighted in that harmony which is a chief element of perfection : it was as though his eagle eye had gazed on the ordering of the heavenly courts, and, drawing from the image pictured on his soul, he strove to reflect something of their beauty in his convent choirs. And so, perhaps, those bowings and prostrations of the white-robed ranks, which, when exactly performed, give so unearthly and beautiful an appearance to the worship of a religious choir, may, at the same time as it harmonized the souls of the worshippers into recollection, have been intended to recall and symbolize those scenes on which doubtless his own spiritual vision had so often rested, and the repeated foldings of those many wings, and the casting of the golden crowns upon the ground. Let us now see what was the rule of his own life at this period, and the impression which his intercourse and ex- ample left on the minds of those who observed him ; and first we will give the portrait they have delineated of his out- ward appearance. It must have been very noble, if we may judge from the description of Sister Cecilia : " He was about the middle stature, but slightly made; his face was beautiful, and rather sanguine in its colour ; his hair and beard of a fair and bright hue, and his eyes fine. From his forehead, and between his brows, there seemed to shine a radiant light which drew respect and love from them that saw it. He was always joyous and agreeable, save when moved to com- passion by the afflictions of his neighbours. His hands were long and beautiful, and his voice was clear, noble, and musical. He was never bald, and he always preserved his religious crown or tonsure entire, mingled here and there with a very few white hairs." Next we find an equally minute and interesting description of his dress. Gerard de Frachet, who wrote by command of blessed Humbert so early as 1256, speaks thus : " Everything about the blessed Dominic breathed of poverty : his habit, shoes, girdle, knife, books, and all like things. You might see him with his 128 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. scapular ever so short, yet did he not care to cover it with his mantle, even when in the presence of great persons. He wore the same tunic summer and winter, and it was very old and patched, and his mantle was of the worst." It was the same spirit of poverty that induced him never to have any cell or bed of his own. He slept in the church. If he came home late at night from his expeditions drenched with rain, he would send his companions to dry and refresh themselves, but himself would go as he was to the church. There his nights were passed in prayer ; or if overcome with fatigue, he would sleep leaning against the altar steps, or lying on the hard stones. On one part of the pavement of the church of Santa Sabina there is still preserved an in- scription indicating one of the stones as that whereon he was accustomed to lie at night If, when he travelled, they stopped where there was no church, he slept anywhere, on the floor, or on a bench, or sitting in his chair, and always dressed in his habit as during the day. Thrice every night he disciplined himself to blood ; the first time for himself, the second for sinners, the third for the souls in purgatory. His prayer was in a manner continual. There was neither place nor time in which he did not pray, but especially in those night hours which he spent alone with God in the church. Very often they watched him unknown to him, and saw the way in which, when he believed himself entirely alone, he poured out all the fervour of his soul with- out control. After compline, when the others were dis- missed to rest, he remained behind, visiting each altar in turn, and praying ibr his order and for the world. Some- times his tears and prayers were so loud as to wake those who slept near; and though very often these exercises lasted until the hour of matins, he never failed to assist at the office with the spirit and alacrity which were so remarkable in him. He was most zealous for the exact performance of what he considered the primary duty of a religious, and would go through the choir from one to another, calling on them to sing with attention and devotion, and in a loud and distinct tone. He never passed an altar whereon was the figure of our Lord without a profound inclination, to recall the sense 0/ HIS PRAYER AND MANNER OF LIFE. 129 his own nothingness. He taught his brethren to do the same at the repetition of the Gloria, as a homage to the Most Holy Trinity, and was wont to quote the words of Judith, "The prayer of the meek and humble shall ever please Thee." He was accustomed likewise to pray, in imitation of Christ in the garden, with his face on the ground; and in this posture he would remain for a long space, repeating passages from the Psalms of the most profound abnegation, and accompanied with many tears, so that the place was often wet where his face had leaned. Some of his favourite ejaculations are preserved. "0 God, be merciful to me a sinner !" he was heard exclaim- ing: "I have sinned, and done amiss." Then, after a little space, "I am not worthy to behold the height of heaven, because of the multitude of my iniquities, for Thy wrath is irritated against me, and I have done evil in Thy sight. Yea, my soul cleaveth to the ground; quicken me according to Thy word." To move his disciples to a similar mode of prayer, he would cite the example of the holy kings throwing themselves at the feet of Christ, and would say, " Come let us adore, and fall down before God, and weep before the Lord who made us." " If you have no sins of your own to weep for," he would say to the younger novices, "weep after the example of the prophets and apostles, and of the Lord Jesus ; and grieve for the sinners who are in the world, that they may be brought back to penance." Another of his favourite devotions was to keep his eyes fixed on the crucifix, and meanwhile to genuflect a hundred times or more ; and so he would pass many hours, uttering ejaculations from the Psalms; or he would kneel silently, as if unconscious of aught save the presence of God ; and then his face, and his whole person, and his very gestures, seemed as though he would penetrate the distance that separated him from his beloved; now beaming with a holy joy, and now sorrowfully bathed in tears. At other times he was seen to stand up upright before the altar, with his hands clasped before his breast, as though holding a book, out of which he had the air of reading, then he would press them over his eyes, or raise them above his shoulders. In these postures h« 130 LIFE OF S. DOMIN1U. had the appearance of a prophet, now listening or speak- ing with God and the angels, now thinking within himself on what he had heard. He would stand also with his arms stretched out in the form of a cross, and would so pronounce steadily and at intervals sentences like these: — "0 Lord God of my salvation, I have cried before Thee day and night. I have cried unto Thee, Lord ; all the day long have I stretched out my hands to Thee. I have stretched out my hands unto Thee ; my soul graspeth to Thee as a land where there is no water." This was when he prayed for any special grace or miracle, as on the raising of Napoleon j and at such times his face breathed an air of indescribable majesty, so that the bystanders remained astonished, with- out daring to question him of that which they beheld with their own eyes : often in rapture, he was seen raised above the ground ; his hands then moved to and fro as though receiving something from God, and he was heard ex- claiming, " Hear, Lord, the voice of my prayer, when I cry unto Thee, and when I hold out my hands to Thy holy temple." As soon as the hours and the grace after dinner were ended, he would retire alone to some secret place, where sitting down and making the sign of the cross, he would meditate on those things which he had heard read. Then taking out that book of the Gospels, which he always carried, he would kiss it reverently and press it to his breast ; and those who observed him could mark how, as he read, he would seem to fall into argu- ments with another, smiling or weeping, beating his breast, or covering his face with his mantle, rising and again sitting and reading, as the passing emotions of his soul sought for expression. Nor must we fail to notice the singular devotion with which he daily celebrated the holy sacrifice of the Mass, which he almost always sang. At the Canon and the Lord's Prayer his tears fell in abundance ; those . who served his Masses noticed this, and bore witness that it wa3 always the case, and that with a tenderness of devotion which moved them also to weep with him. Of his manner towards his subjects, we read that its undeviating rule was charity. He was their loving HIS PRAYER AND MANNER OP LIFE. 131 father, even whilst he knew how to reprove and correct them. The following are the words of Rodolph of Fa- enza: — He was ever kind, cheerful, patient, joyful, mer- ciful, and the consoler of his brethren. If he saw any of them fail into a fault, he would seem as though he did not at the time observe it, but afterwards, with a serene countenance, and with gentle speech, would say, 4 Brother, you have done wrong, but now repent;' and so did he bring all to penance. And yet though he told them of their faults with such humble words, he could gravely punish them." " He punished transgressors of the rule with severity, and yet with mercy," says John of Navarre, " and greatly did he grieve when he had to punish any." Brother Frugerius, another of the eye-witnesses of his life, says, " He was rigid himself in the observation of the rule, and would have it observed also by others ; yet did he punish transgressors with meekness and sweetnesss. He was kind and patient in trouble, joyful in adversity, loving, merciful, and the con- soler of his brethren, and of all men." To which test- imony Brother Paul of Venice adds, " So sweet and just was he in correction, that none could ever be troubled by a punishment or reproof received from him." An- other of his disciples adds, " Although like a father, he could use the rod of correction ; yet also as a mother he could give the breast of consolation ; and so sweet and efficacious was his way of comforting those who came to him, that none went away without solace and relief. And if he saw his brethren at any time sad or afflicted, he would call them to him, and condole with them, and ofttimes deliver them by his prayers." We may draw the reader's attention to the striking similarity of the character sketched by so many different hands. Indeed, when we read over " the Acts of Bo- logna, as these evidences for his canonization are entitled, we are immediately struck with the exact resemblance they bear to one another. We see, as it were, the portrait of one whose features were too marked not \o be instantly caught by the painter ; they were the 132 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC, outlines of the most perfect form of charity- And the mother of his charity was a profound humility. " Nevei did I see a man so humble in all things as was Brother Dominic," is the language of one of the witnesses on his canonization ; " he dispised himself greatly, and counted himself as nothing; he was the example to his brethren in all things — in words, gesture, food, clothing, and manners. He was generous, too, and hospitable, and gladly gave all he had to the poor. He passed his nights without sleep, praying for the sins of others," And blessed Jordan, on the last-mentioned quality (zeal for souls), says, f It was the trait in which lie most desired to resemble his Lord." With the beautiful eulogy which is given by this holy writer, the worthy successor and biographer of his great patriarch, we must conclude this chapter : " The goodness of his soul, and the holy fervour with which he acted, were so great, that none could doubt him to be indeed a chosen vessel of honour adorned with precious stones. He had a par- ticular firmness of spirit, always equal, save when moved to pity or compassion. The peace and quietude of his heart was manifest in his gentleness and his cheerful looks. And he was so firm and resolute in the de- terminations he had taken after just reflection, that never, or almost never, did any succeed in making him change his mind. The holy joy which shone in him had something singular about it, which drew all men's affec- tions to him so soon as they had looked upon his face. He embraced all in great charity, and so was loved of all ; and his rule was to rejoice with them that rejoiced, and to weep with them that wept. He was all love for his neighbour, all pity for the poor ; and the simplicity of his conduct, without a shadow of insincerity either in word or deed, made him dear to all." With this portrait in our mind, sketched by the very eye- witnesses of his daily life, we shall now proceed to give some of those legends attached to the period of his residence at Rome, to which we have before referred- CHAPTER XVIII. Attacks of the Devil. Legends of S. Sabina and S. Sixtns On the second Sunday in Lent, being the first after the settlement of the nuns at S. Sixtus, Dominic preached in their church, standing, as it is said, " at the grating," that is, so as his discourse should be heard both by them and by the congregation assembled in the public parts of the church. As he did so, a possessed woman who was in the midst of the crowd interrupted the sermon, " Ah, villain !" cried the demon, speaking through her voice, " these nuns were once all mine own, and thou hast robbed me of them all. This soul at least is mine, and thou shalt not take her from me, for we are seven in number that have her in our keeping." Then Dominic commanded her to hold her peace, and making the sign of the cross, he delivered her from her tormenters in the presence of all the spectators. A few days after this she came to him, and, throwing herself at his feet, implored to be allowed to take his habit. He consented to her request, and placed her in the convent of S. Sixtus, where he gave her the name of Amata, or, as we used to call her, Amy ; to signify the love of God displayed in her regard. She afterwards removed to Bologna, where she died in the odour of sanctity, and lies buried in the same tomb with Dominic's two other holy daughters, Cecilia and Diana, the latter of whom was foundress of the convent of women in that place. In speaking of this and other examples of the malice of the demon, which are narrated in the history of S. Dominic, we cannot but observe something perhaps a little distinctive about them. Never do we find one instance in which Satan was permitted the least power to vex or trouble him. Never, as with so many othef 134 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. saints, was he suffered to do him bodily harm, or to assault him with grievous temptations. The evil one appears to us always baffled and contemptible, as in the power of one who is his master, the very Michael among the saints. Yet though always petty, and as it were ridiculous, he ceased not in his efforts to thwart and disturb him, and chiefly directed his malice against the friars and sisters of S. Sixtus, grievously trying them by perpetual distraction, as though he hoped thereby at least to diminish something of the fervour of their devo- tions. Once indeed he made a more serious attempt against Dominic's life. One night, as he prayed in the church of Santa Sabina, a huge stone was hurled at him by an invisible hand from the upper part of the roof, which all but grazed his head, and even tore his hood, but falling without further injury to the saint, was buried deep in the ground beside him. The noise was so loud that it awoke several of the friars, who came in haste to the spot to inquire the cause ; they found the fragments of the broken pavement, and the stone lying where it fell ; but Dominic was kneeling quietly in prayer, and seemed as if unconscious of what had happened. Another story, of a similar character, is told as follows : " The servant of God, who had neither bed nor cell of his own, had publicly commanded his children in chapter, that in order that they might wake the more promptly, to rise to matins, they should retire to bed at a certain hour, in which he was strictly obeyed. Now, as he himself abode before the Lord in the church, the devil appeared before him in the form of one of the brethren, and though it was past the prohibited time, yet did he remain in the church with an air of particular devotion and modesty. Wherefore the saint, judging it to be one of the friars, went softly up to him, and desired him to go to his cell, and sleep with the others. And the pretended friar inclined his head, in sign of humble obedience, and went as he was bid; but on each of the two following nights, he returned at the same hour and in the same manner. The second time the man of ATTACKS OP THE DEVIL. 135 God rose very gently (although, indeed, he had reason to be somewhat angry, seeing he had at table during the day reminded all of the observance of that which had been enjoined), and again desired him to go away. He went ; but, as we have said, returned yet a third time. Then, it seemed to the saint that the disobedience and pertinacity of his brother was too great, and he reproved him for the same with some severity ; whereat, the devil (who desired nothing else, save to disturb his prayer and stir him unto wrath, and move him to break the silence) gave a loud laugh, and, leaping high into the air, he said, 'At least I have made you break the silence, and moved you to wrath !' But he calmly replied, ' Not so, for I have power to dispense, neither is it blameworthy wrath when I utter reproofs unto the evil-doers.' And the demon, being so answered, was obliged to fly." On another occasion, as he was by night walking about the convent of S. Sabina, guarding his flock with the vigilance of a good shepherd, he met the enemy in the dormitory, going like a lion seeking whom he might devour ; and recognizing him, he said, " Thou evil beast, what doest thou here ?" "I do my office," replied the de- mon, "and attend to mygains." "And what gains dost thou make in the dormitory ?" asked the saint. " Gain enough," returned the demon. " I disquiet the friars in many ways ; for first, I take the sleep away from those who desire to sleep in order that they may rise promptly for matins ; and then I give an excessive heaviness to others, so that when the bell sounds, either from weariness or idleness they do not rise ; or, if they rise and go to choir, it is unwillingly, and they say their office without devotion." Then the saint took him to the church, and said, " And what dost thou gain here ?" " Much, an- swered the devil; " I make them come late and leave soon. I fill them with disgusts and distractions, so that they do ill whatsoever they have to do." " And here ?" asked Dominic, leading him to the refectory. " Who does not eat too much or too little ?" was the reply ; " and so they either offend God or injure their health." Theu the saint took him to the parlour, where the brethren 136 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC wore allowed to speak with seculars, and to take their recreation. And the devil began maliciously to laugh, and to leap and jump about, as if with enjoyment, and he said, " This place is all mine own ; here they laugh and joke, and hear a thousand vain stories ; here they utter idle words, and grumble often at their rule and their superiors ; and whatsoever they gain elsewhere they lose here." And lastly they came to the door of the chapter- room, but there the devil would not enter. He attempted to fly, saying, "This place is a hell to me ; here the friars accuse themselves of their faults, and receive reproof and correction, and absolution. What they have lost in every other place they regain here." And so saying, he dis- appeared, and Dominic was left greatly wondering at the snares and nets of the tempter ; whereof he after- wards made a long discourse to his brethren, declaring the same unto them, that they should be on their guard. But if, at the risk of wearying the reader, we have given these instances of the infernal malice, it is time for us to present him with other and more lovely pictures, as they are left us in the relation of Sister Cecilia. The first, as is fitting, shall be of the maternal love of Mary. Before reading it, we must remember that Dominic never had cell or bed of his own, and slept, when he slept at all, in the church or the dormitory. "One night, Dominic having remained in the church to pray, left it at the hour of midnight, and entered the corrider where were the cells of the brethren. When he had finished what he had come to do, he again began to pray at one end of the dormitory, and looking by chance towards the other end, he saw three ladies coming along, of whom the one in the middle appeared the most beautiful and venerable. One of her companions carried a magnificent vessel of water, and the other a sprinkler, which she presented to her mistress, and she sprinkled the bre- thren, and made over them the sign of the cross. But when she had come to one of the friars, she passed him over without blessing him ; and Dominic having observed who this one was, went before the lady, who was in the LEGEND OF S. SABINA: 137 middle of the dormitory, near to where the lamp was hanging. He fell at her feet, and though he had already recognized her, yet he besought her to tell him who she was. At that time the beautiful and devout anthem of the Salve Regina was not sung in the convents of the friars or of the sisters at Rome ; it was only recited, kneeling, after compline. The lady who had given the blessing said therefore to Dominic. ' I am she whom you invoke every evening, and when you say < Eia ergo advocota nostra,' I prostrate before my Son for the preservation of this order.' Then the blesssed Dominic inquired who were the two young maidens who accom- panied her, and she replied, ' One is Cecilia, and the other Catherine.' And the blessed Dominic asked again why she had passed over one of the brethren without blessing him ; and he was answered, ' Because he was not in a fitting posture;' and so, having finished her round, and sprinkled the rest of the brethren, she disappeared. Now the blessed Dominic returned to pray in the place where he was before, and scarcely had he begun to pray when he was wrapt in spirit unto God. And he saw the Lord, with the Blessed Virgin standing on His right hand ; and it seemed to him that our Lady was dressed in a robe of sapphire blue. And, looking about him, he saw religious of every order standing before God; but of his own he did not S3e one. Then he began to weep bitterly, and he dared not draw nigh to our Lord, or to His Mother; but our Lady beckoned him with her hand to approach. Nevertheless, he did not dare to come until our Lord also in His turn had made him a sign to do so. He came, therefore, and fell prostrate before them, weeping bitterly. And the Lord commanded him to rise ; and when he was risen, He said to him, * Why weepest thou thus bitterly?' And he answered, 'I weep because I see here religious of all orders except mine own.' And the Lord said to him, ' Wouldst thou see thine own ?' And he, trembling, replied, 'Yes, Lord.' Then the Lord placed His hand on the shoulder of the Blessed Virgin, and said to the blessed Dominic, ' I have given thine order to my Mother.' Then He said again, 'And 138 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. wouldst thou really see thine order?' And he replied, 1 Yea, Lord.' Then the Blessed Virgin opened the mantle in which she seemed to be dressed, and extending it before the eyes of Dominic, so that its immensity covered all the space of the heavenly country, he saw under its folds a vast multitude of his friars. The blessed Dominic fell down to thank God and the Blessed Mary, His Mother, and the vision disappeared, and he came to himself again, and rang the bell for matins ; and when matins were ended, he called them all together, and made them a beautiful discourse on the love and venera- tion they should bear to the most Blessed Virgin, and related to them this vision. It was on this occasion that he ordered his friars, wherever they might sleep, always to wear a girdle and stockings." Another story we give in the words of the same writer : " It was the constant habit of the venerable father to spend the entire day in gaining souls, either by continual preaching, or hearing confessions, or in other works of charity. And in the evening he was accustomed to come to the sisters, and give them a discourse or a conference on the duties of the order, in presence of the brethren ; for they had no other master to instruct them. Now, one evening, he was later than usual in coming, and the sisters did not think he would come at all, they having finished their prayers and retired to their cells. But, lo ! suddenly they heard the little bell, which the friars were used to ring to give the sisters a signal of the approach of the blessed father. And they all hastened to the church, where, the grating being opened, they found him already seated, with the brethren, waiting for them. Then he said, t My daughters, I am come from fishing, and the Lord has this night sent me a great fish.' He spoke of Brother Gandion, whom he had received into the order; he was the only sen of the Lord Alexander, a Roman citizen, and a man of consequence. Then he made them a long discourse, which gave them great con- solation. After which, he said, ' It will be well, my children, if we drink a little.' And calling Brother lloger, the cellarer, he bade him go and bring a cup and LEGEND OP S. SIXTUS. 139 some wine. And the friar having brought it, the blessed Dominic desired him to fill the cup to the brim. Then he blessed it, and drank first, and after him also the other friars who were present. Now they were of the number of twenty-five, as well clerks as laics; and they drank as much as they would, yet was not the wine diminished. When they had all drunk, the blessed Dominic said, 'I will that my daughters drink also.' And calling Sister Nubia, he said to her, ' Come in thy turn, and take the cup, and give all the sisters to drink.' She went there- fore, with a companion, and took the cup, full up to the brim, withont a drop having been poured out. And the prioress drank first and then all the sisters, as much as they would, the blessed father saying to them, 'Drink at your ease my daughters.' They were a hundred and four, and all drank as much as they would ; nevertheless the cup remained full, as though the wine had just been poured into it ; and when it was brought back, it was still full. This done, the blessed Dominic said, ' The Lord wills me now to go to Santa Sabina.' But Brother Tancred, the prior of the brethren, and Odo, the prior of the sisters, and all the friars, and the prioress with the sisters, tried to detain him, saying, 'Holy father, it is near midnight, and it is not expedient for you to go.' Nevertheless he refused to do as they wished, and said, ' The Lord wills me to depart, and will send His angel with me.' Then he took for his companions Tancred and Odo, and set out. And being arrived at the church-door, in order to depart, behold ! according to the words of the blessed Dominic, a young man of great beauty presented himself, having a staff in his hand, as if ready for a iourney. Then the blessed Dominic made his com- panions go on before him, the young man going first, and he last, and so they came to the door of the church of Santa Sabina, which they found shut. The young man leaned against the door, and immediately it opened; he entered first, then the brethren, and then the blessed Dominic. And the young man went out, and the door again shut ; and Brother Tancred said, ' Holy father, who wa3 the young man who came with us ? ' And ho 140 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. replied, l My son, it was an angel of God, whom He sent to guard us. Matins then rang, and the friars descended into the choir, and were surprised to see there the blessed Dominie and his companions, for they knew that the door had been left shut." Such are some of the legends of these times. Traces of them may yet be found on the spots they have enriched with their associations. Over the door of' Santa Sabina, a half-defaced fresco commemorates this visit of the angel ; within, is still preserved the fragment of the stone which was hurled at Dominic in prayer ; and the spot on the pavement where he was wont to take his scanty rest is marked by a Latin inscription. The room, too, where Hyacinth and Cestaus received the habit is yet shown, and the picture that hangs over the choir tells the story of their singular vocation. This church and convent have never passed from the hands of the order, and the freshness of their association with the legendary history of its founder is unimpaired. S. Sixtus is no longer inhabited, though still the pro- perty of the order. The malaria drove the nuns from its walls so long ago as the year 1575; since which time they have been established at a new house on the Quirinal, bearing the name of "San Dominico e Sisto." But amid its desertion and ruin one monument of its ancient history yet remains. That little chapter-house, on whose threshold the widow's son was raised to life, and where Dominic and the sisters were assembled when the news came of the death of young Nnpoleon, yet stands ; one of the very few buildings in the ancient ecclesiastical style which are yet left in Rome. A fate has awaited this almost solitary relic of Christian archi- tecture which we cannot but trust may have results worthy of its historic interest. In it has been made the first attempt to restore the early ecclesiastical style, which has been seen in Rome for three centuries. It has been recently arranged as a chapel, and its walls decorated with frescoes, in the antique manner, descriptive of the life of Dominic. It may have been nothing but a chance j yet one feels it was a happy and appropriate F PRESENT STATE OF S. SIXTUS. 141 chance that the first steps towards a revival of Christian art should have been made in this monument of the Dominican order, and by the hands of a Dominican artist.* In 1667, the two convents of S. Clement and S. Sixtus were granted to the Irish Dominicans, driven out of their own land by the persecutions of the times. " Inasmuch as our province of Ireland," says Father Anthony Monroy, the master-general of the order at that time, " has endured long and cruel persecutions, so that its sons have neither house nor place where they may lay their head, we judge them worthy of all commisseration." The brief continues by formally ceding to them these two convents " as a refuge for the miserable province of Ireland," and also as a plaee of education ; and they have ever since been assigned to the brethren of that nation. Some years ago the church and buildings of S. Sixtus, were covered with paintings and inscriptions commemo- rative of the many miracles and incidents of S. Dominic's life which had taken place within their walls; and the pulpit was shown from which he was accustomed to preach and propagate the Rosary among his audience ; but many of these are now destroyed or removed. No lapse of years or injury of time could however efface the memory of the saint on that spot, and in the diploma wherein Clement VIII. restored the locality to the Dominican order, after it had for some time been alien- ated, he prefaces the donation by a long summary of those wonderful events which have made it worthy to be enumerated among the holy places of Rome. The diploma is dated the 19th of January, 1611. * Pere Hyacinth Besson CHAPTEIl XIX. Dominic leaves Rome. He visits Bologna on his "way to Spain. Incidents of his journey. He preaches at Segovia. Foundations there, and at Madrid. His continual prayer. It was in the autumn of 1218 that Dominic prepared to leave Home, in order to visit the places where his children had been forming so many new settlements during the short year which had passed since their first dispersion at S. Romain. That memorable year bad seen them well-nigh planted throughout Europe; and he felt that the rapid increase of the order rendered his own presence and inspection of the young houses a thing no longer to be delayed. It is said also, that a feeling of humility was one of the motives which urged him to leave- Home ; his preaching and the fame of his miracles had gained him a reputation from which he shrank. We therefore find him, in the month of October, leaving the city gates, with his stick, his little bundle, and his copy of the Gospels, in company with a few of his own religious, a Franciscan, Brother Albert, soon after joining them on the road ; whilst Hyacinth and his three companions set out at the same time for the north. Dominic's steps were directed towards Bologna, where the brethren were still in their first convent of Santa Maria della Mascharella, suffering many inconveniences and discouragements, against which they continued to struggle until the month of December following, when, as we shall have occaasion to show, the arrival of Heginald of Orleans gave a fresh spirit to their undertaking. Dominic's visit lasted but a few days; yet we can easily imagine the joy and comfort which it diffused among them. In the course of his stay the same miracle which had previously taken place in the refectory of S. ►Sixtus was here renewed ; the brethren were fed by MIRACLE OF BOLOGNA. 143 angels, and the story is told with such a peculiar quaint- ness by the good Father Ludovico Prelormitano, that we cannot resist inserting the account in his own words : — " After that our most sweet father S. Dominic had finished the arduous business committed to him by the Holy Pontiff at Rome, he came to Bologna, and lodged at the Mascharella, where the friars still abode, not being yet able to go to S. Nicholas by reason of the rooms being yet too fresh and damp. And it happened on a day that by reason of the multitude of the brethren, there was no bread, except a few very little pieces ; and the blessing being given, the good father raised his eyes and his heart to God ; and lo ! (januis clausis) the doors being closed, there appeared two beautiful youths with two baskets of the whitest loaves, and giving one thereof to each friar, they so multiplied, that abundantly (ad saturitatem) there remained enough for three days. And this great miracle happened twice at Rome and twice at Bologna. The second time, after the loaves, they gave a good handful of dried figs. And the brother who made oath of the same to Pope Gregory IX. added and said, ' That never had he eaten better figs.' Then replied the Pontiff, ' Grammercy to Master Dominic, for they were not gathered in your garden;' as though he had said, 'God did at that time produce them.' And the number that ate was more than a hundred friars. Benedictus Deus /" He adds, " I have been in the cells which the said friars built, and accurately measured them, in the year 1528 ; they were four feet and a half wide, and scarcely six long. And the rector of Santa Maria Mascharella, my very dear friend, told me that every year, on the §ame day when the holy angels brought the heavenly bread, most sweet odours were perceived in the space then occupied by the refectory, which lasted forty hours." The table on which the miraculous loaves were placed was left at Santa Maria when the friars removed to S. Nicholas, and was still to be seen, guarded by iron bars in the wall, at the time when Father Prelormitano wrote. But Dominic soon left Bologna ; his journey being now principally directed towards that native country £44 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. which lie ha*d not seen for sixteen years. Two anecdotes alone are left us of his journey. It is said that on quit- ting Bologna in company with the Franciscan before mentioned, they were attacked by a fierce dog, who tore the poor friar's habit, so that he was unable to proceed on his journey, and sat down by the wayside in some dispair. Dominic applied a little mud to the rent gar- ment, and this new kind of mending perfectly succeeded ; when the mud dried, the hahbit was discovered perfectly joined together. The other story is thus amusingly told by Castiglio : — " Having, one day, come to an inn with several companions, the hostess was much disturbed at the small gains she saw herself likely to make by them ; for they being many, and eating little, she saw herself put to much trouble to little purpose. Wherefore, as the servants of God conversed together on spiritual things, as was their wont, she went about grumbling and blaspheming, saying all the evil words that came into her mind; and the more the holy father S. Dominic sought to appease her with fair speeches, the more violent she became, not being willing to hear reason. At length, being wholly disturbed by the noise of this virago, S. Dominic spoke to her and said, 'Sister, since you will not leave us in peace for the love of God, I pray Him that He will Himself silence you;' the which words were no sooner uttered than she lost the power of speech, and became entirely dumb. She continued so until the saint's return from Spain, when, as he stopped at the same inn, she threw herself at his feet to implore his pardon, and he restored her to the use of her tongue, with a warning that she should use it in future to the praise of God. It was probably in the course of this journey that the following incident occurred at the city of Faenza, as given in the ancient memoirs preserved in the convent of that place. Albert, the bishop of Faenza, was so charmed by his eloquence and the fascination of his dis- course, that he would not allow him to lodge anywhere but in the episcopal palace. This did not, however, pre- vent Dominic from pursuing his ordinary course of life ; JOURNEY TO SPAIN. 145 every night he rose at the hour of matins, as was his custom, and proceeded to the nearest church to assist at the divine office. The attendants of the bishop noticed this ; and on watching him secretly to observe how he was able to leave the palace without rousing the inmates, they observed two beautiful youths who stood by the door of his chamber with lighted torches, and so led the way for him and his companions, every door opening for them as they went along ; and in this way they were every night conducted in safety to the church of S. Andrew, °whence, after the singing of matins, they re- turned in like manner. When this was made known to Albert, he himself watched and became an eye-witness of the fact ; and in consequence he procured the above church to be the foundation of a convent of the order. A memorial of the circumstances is preserved in the name given to the ground lying between tbe palace and S. Andrew's church, which is still called " The Angels' Field/* \ ;H i-Vv. Doubtless many cities of northern Italy received like pawing visits from Dominic, but no certain traditions concerning them have been preserved. We can, there- fore but follow him in imagination, as he made his way over the plains of Lombardy, and crossing the Alps, found himself once more in the convent of S. Romain at Toulouse. The number of the brethren was greatly increased, but their prospects, together with those of the Church generally in those parts, had received a serious check by the death of the Count de Montfort, and the renewed persecutions of the heretics. Dominic remained a while with them to encourage them, and nominated Bertrand of Garriga, who had just returned from Fans, their superior. He then continued his journey to Spain ; and we find that before Christmas he was at Segovia, m Old Castile. One circumstance occurred on his way which must not be omitted. The brethren who travelled in his company, discouraged perhaps by the hardships ot the journey, and yet more by those which they witnessed in the young houses of Bologna and Toulouse, broke out into murmurs, and even determined to quit the habit 146 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. and return to the world. Some writers tell us that these religious were not those who came from Italy with the saint, but some young Castilian novices, who had been attracted to him by the fame of his eloquence and miracles, and whose fervour cooled as soon as they made a closer acquaintance with the austerity of his rule \ and this seems the more probable conjecture. However that may be, their discontent was soon discovered by Dominic : he did his best to deter them from their pur- pose, but in vain; three only remained with him, the others, having put their hand to the plough, looked back and left him. Turning sadly and gently to those who remained faithful, Dominic addressed them in the words of our Lord on a like occasion, " Will ye also go away ? " And the memory of this incident has been preserved in a touching passage of the Constitution of the order, introduced at a later period with an evident allusion to these circumstances. " Whenever novices," it is said, " wish to return to the world, we command all the religious freely to let them go, and to return them all that they have brought. Nor must they give them any vexation on this account, after the ex- ample of Him, who, when some of his disciples went back, said to those that remained, ' Will ye also' go away V "* The greater number of those who had abandoned him, shortly afterwards returned to their obedience. The city ef Segovia, where Dominic first stopped, is not far from Osma. His return to those familiar scenes, so thick with memories of his friendship with the bishop Diego, and the long quiet years of his early life, before the call of God had drawn him before the world, must have been full of singular emotion to a heart so tender and sensitive as his own. Perhaps it was something of this natural affection for old scenes, linked to such dear associations, that made him fix on this neighbourhood for his first foundation on his return to his native land. Only a few particulars of his residence there have been preserved. He lodged at the house of a poor woman, who * Const. F. F. Praed. d. i. c. 14. PREACHING AT SEGOVIA. 147 contrived to get possession of a coarse hair shirt which he had worn, and had laid aside to exchange it for one of yet harsher material. Some time afterwards, the house caught fire, and everything was burned excepting tho box which contained this precious relic. This hair shirt was long preserved among the relics of the monastery of Valladolid. Dominic had not been long in the city before he began his usual work of preaching, and with more than usual success. Possibly the familiar lan- guage of his mother-tongue, and the sight of those Spanish Hills, after the long years of exile and separation, gave a fresh inspiration to his words. It seemed, too, that God was willing, that special tokens of His miracu- lous power should accompany the preaehing of His servants. A long drought had afflicted the country of Segovia, and reduced the inhabitants to the utmost dis- tress. One day, as they gathered together outside tho walls to hear the preaching, Dominic, after beginning his discourse, as if suddenly inspired by God, exclaimed, " Fear nothing, my brethren, but trust in the Divine mercy. I announce to you good news, for to-day even God will send you a plentiful rain, and the drought shall be turned into plenty." And shortly after, his words were fulfilled, for such torrents of rain fell, that scarcely could the assembled crowd make their way to their own homes. The spot where this took place is still shown, and the event is commemorated by a little chapel which has been erected in his honour. On another occasion, as he preached before the senate of the city, he spoke thus : "You listen to the words of an earthly king, hear now those of Him who is eternal and divine." One of the senators took offence at the freedom of his words, and mounting his horse, rode off, exclaiming .contemp- tuously, "A. fiue thing, forsooth, for this fellow (ciarla- tino) to keep you here all day with his fooleries. Truly, it is time to go home to dinner !" Dominic looked at him sorrowfully : " He goes as you see," he said, addressing the others, " but within a year he will be dead." And, indeed, not many months after this occur- rence, he was slain on that very spot by his own nephew. 148 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. Dominic's preaching soon rendered him very popular among the Segovians. They were proud of him as a fellow-countryman, and nocked together to listen to him wherever he appeared. We are told, that he never spoke in public without first prostrating in prayer before a little image, and repeating the versicle, " Dignare me laudare te, Virgo sacrata," &c. It is with him also, according to Pere Croiset, that the custom among preachers of intro- ducing the Ave Maria at the beginning of their sermon, first arose. In a short time a number of new disciples were gathered together at Segovia, the foundations of a convent were laid, under the title of the Holy Cross ; and one of his followers, named Corbolan, and known as " Blessed Corbolan the Simple," was appointed prior. This convent was erected close by the little river Eresma, on whose banks Dominic was accustomed to address the multitudes. Close by may still be seen another spot consecrated by the memory of his presence. It is a grotto deep sunk in the rock, where he was wont nightly to retire from the presence of his followers, to give him- self up to the free exercise of prayer and the presence of God. Its walls (as those testified who secretly watched him at these times) were often wet with his tears and his blood. This grotto now forms part of the chapel erected in his honour, and is attached to the church. It was visited by S. Theresa, who declared that she received such grace and consolation in her visit to it, that she could have desired to spend her life within its recesses. As soon as the convent of Segovia was founded, Dominic proceeded to Madrid. The house already founded there by Brother Peter, originally sent thither from Toulouse, was without the town. It was very poor, having a little church like a hermitage, and a narrow dormitory without division. Dominic resolved to convert it into a monastery of women, for he considered its revenues and endowments unsuitable for his brethren. This, therefore, was the third convent of sisters which he founded. Nor was his care of them inferior to that he had before bestowed on Prouille and S. Sixtus. A beauti- ful letter is still preserved, in which he addresses them on PREACHERS AT MADRID. 149 their duties and vocation. We give part of it as another illustration of the importance he evidently attached to those external aids whereby the strictness and entireness of the rule should be perfectly observed : — " Brother Dominic, Master of the Preachers, to the Mother Prioress, and all the convent of the Sisters of Madrid, health and amendment of life by the grace of God. We rejoice, and thank God for your spiritual progress, and that He has drawn you from the mire of the world. Combat still, my daughters, against your old enemy by prayer and watching; for he only shall be crowned who has striven lawfully. Hitherto you have had no house suitable for following all the rules of our holy religion, but now there will be no excuse ; since now, thanks be to God, you have a building where regular observance can be exactly kept. Therefore I desire that silence may now be kept in all the places enjoined by the Con- stitutions, in the choir, refectory, dormitories, and wherever you live according to rule We send our dear brother Manez, who has laboured so much for your house, and has fixed you in your holy state, to order all things as shall seem good to him, to the end that you may live holily and religiously." The people of Castile received Dominic with extraordinary marks of honour ; Castiglio gives us a long list of donations granted by the magistrates of Madrid to his order, bearing the date of May, 1219. His sermons were listened to by crowds of the inhabitants, among whom a wonderful change was effected in a short time. This change was so great and striking that, in the words of Castiglio, " he could not be satisfied with weeping, by reason of the marvellous and heavenly contentment which he felt for the clear and manifest favours of God, and his tenderness towards sinners." The preaching of the Rosary, as usual, was his great instrument for the conversion of the people, and many wonders were wrought by the extension of its devotion. When at length he prepared to return to Toulouse, the regret of the citizens knew no bounds ; " for his manner and conversation," continues Castiglio, " had marvellously captivated the souls of all, and they 150 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. felt themselves raised on high to great and heavenly desires, whilst their affections were likewise drawn to him by a singular tenderness." There must, indeed, have been something peculiarly sweet and familiar in the intercourse between him and these converts of Madrid; for we find him writing to the Pope to declare their fervent and devout dispositions; and Honorius in conse- quence sent a brief conveying his special benediction both to them and the people of Segovia. Several other convents were already founded in Spain, but it is uncertain what share S. Dominic himself had in their establishment. Nor is there any universal agree- ment among authors as to the cities he visited, though it seems certain that he made some stay at the Palencia, the scene of his early university life. We have an interesting memorial of this visit in the will of Anthony Sersus, who leaves a certain sum for candles for the confraternity of the Holy Rosary, founded in that place by " the good Dominic of Gusman," as he terms him. We find by this how very early a date may be claimed for the confrater- nities of the Rosary, which indeed were founded in almost every city wherein Dominic preached, especially in the north of Italy. For still, as he passed from place to place, his work was ever the same : he preached without rest and intermission, and many of the miracles attributed to him by popular tradition are given to us associated with stories of the propagation of the Rosary. His time was never his own : he had long since made it over to God for the salvation of souls :* his idea of the vocation of a Friar Preacher was one of utter self-abandonment, and so whenever he appeared abroad he was followed by crowds, attracted by the odour of his sanctity, who were accustomed to say that penance was easy when preached by Master Dominic. Yet though never alone, his life of prayer was un- interrupted ; the secret of that perpetual communion with God in the midst of exterior distractions, so ad- mirably displayed in the life of the great spiritual daughter of his order, S. Catherine of Siena, when shc°spoke of the interior cell of the heart wherein she HIS CONTINUAL PRAYER. 151 was wont to retire, was well known to him ; it was there he found his rest ; and the habit of prayer had knit his heart so close to God, that nothing had the power of separating him from that centre, " wherein," says Cas- tiglio, " he reposed with a marvellous quiet and tran- quillity. Never did he lose that repose of soul which is essential to the spirit of prayer ; but in. all his labours and disquiets, in the midst of hunger, thirst, fatigue, long journeys, and continued interruption from others, hi3 heart was free and ready to turn to God at all hours, as though it were conscious of none else but Him. Therefore many consolations were granted to him that are not given to others ; and of this we have evidence in his words, his zeal, and all his actions, wherein there appeared a certain grace and sweetness of the Holy Ghost, showing how dearly favoured was his soul." In faet S. Dominie was pre-emimently a man of prayer ; it is the feature above all others which we find traced upon his life. By night or by day, whether alone or with others, silent in contemplation, or surrounded by the distractions of an active apostolic vocation, his heart never stirred from the true and steady centre it had so early found in God ; and in this one fact lay the secret -of all the graces which adorned his most beautiful soul. It was the source of that interior tranquillity which fitted him to be called " the rose of patience," as 4 well as of the exterior and gracious sweetness to which all have borne testimony, and which with him was nothing else than the fragant odour proceeding from the abiding presence of God. CHAPTER XX. Ketum to S. Kornain. He proceeds to Paris. Jordan of Saxony. Interview with Alexander, King of Scotland. Ketnrn to Italy. We find Dominic once more among the brethren of S. Romain in the April of the year 1219. His presence was joyfully welcomed, nor was it among his own bre- thren only that his coming always seemed to diffuse a spirit of gladness; if we may credit an ancient writer, " even the Jews and Gentile Saracens, whereof there were so many in Spain, held him dear, all save the heretics, whom he was wont to conquer and silence by his preachings."* And now, once more, Toulouse heard for awhile the mighty eloquence of that voice which had before carried the Gospel of peace over the hills and villages of Languedoc. Such crowds flocked to hear him, that S. Romain could not contain them ; it was in the cathedral church of S. Stephen, before the bishop and chapter, that he was obliged to deliver his sermons ; and their fruit was an abundance of conversions. Here again he gave himself without reserve to all the labours of his apostolic calling. All day long he was in the city, or in the surrounding country, preaching and instructing the people; and the night was devoted to prayer and sharp austerities. Here, too, all his care and devotion was lavished on his brethren and children, whom he strove to form to sanctity. Prouille and S. Romain were to him now, what S. Sixtus and Santa Sabina had already been at Rome ; and another miracle of the multiplication of the loaves is said to have taken place in the refectory of S. Romain. Rertrand of Garrega was his companion in the journey to Paris, which next lay before him. Some of his younger disciples were also with him, and it was in » John of Spain. MIRACLES ON THE WAY. 153 tenderness to their weakness and fatigue that he is said to have miraculously changed some water into wine, a trait of his characteristic thoughtfulness and compassion; "for," says Gerard de Frachet, " they had been tenderly nur- tured in the world." On the road they turned aside to visit the sanctuary of Roquemadour, near Cahors, where they spent the night praying in the church of our Lady. The next day, as they journeyed along, singing litanies and reciting the Psalms of the divine office, two German pilgrims overtook them ; and being greatly attracted by the devotion of their exterior, they followed closely behind them. When they came to the next village, their new friends begged them to sit down and dine with them ; and they continued this conduct for four consecutive days. On the fifth day Dominic said to Bertrand, " Brother Bertrand, it grieves me to reap the temporal things of these pilgrims, without sowing for them spi- ritual things ; let us kneel down and ask God to grant us the understanding of their language, that we may speak to them of Christ." They did so ; and during the rest of their journey were able to converse with them without difficulty. When they drew near Paris, they separated, and Dominic charged Bertrand to keep the matter secret till his death, " lest," as he said, " the people should take us for saints, who are but sinners." Jordan of Saxony tells us another anecdote of this journey, which he heard from the lips of Bertrand himself : it was that being threatened with a violent tempest of rain, they walked on in the midst of it, Dominic making the sign of the cross as he went along, and none of them were touched by the floods of water that fell around them. On another occasion, when the rain had drenched them through and through, they stopped for the night at a little village, and his companions went to the inn fire to dry their clothes, whilst Dominic, as usual, made his way to the church, where he spent the night before the altar. In the morning the habits of the others were still wet, but his' were perfectly dry ; the fire of charity that burned within had communicated itself also to his exterior. 154 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. We have already noticed the foundation of the convent of S. Jacques, at Paris; in spite of all obstacles, the numbers of the brethren had now increased to thirty, and the presence of Dominic was a fresh encouragement to them. His stay among them was very short, but marked by two characteristic proceedings. His first act was to " set in order a regular house, with cloisters, domitory, refectory, and cells for study ;"* for it must be remem- bered that the brethren were in close connection with the university, where they followed the course of divinity and philosophy with the other stndents. Dominic's next step was to carry out • his usual law of dispersion ; Limoges, Pheims, Poitiers and Orleans, were all chosen as the scenes of new foundations ; and the little band, so hardly gathered together, were no sooner collected than they were scattered abroad. Peter Cellani, the citizen of Marseilles who had been the first benefactor and disciple of the order, was chosen for Limoges ; but he ventured to plead his ignorance, and incapacity for preaching. " Go, my son," was the heroic answer of his leader, " go, and fear nothing : twice every day will I remember thee before God, and do not thou doubt. Thou shalt gain many souls to the Lord, and He will be with thee." Peter obeyed with the simplicity so natural to him, and was used afterwards to say that in all his difficulties he had never invoked God and S. Dominic without obtaining relief. Whilst at Paris. Dominic had the happiness of giving the habit to his old friend William of Montferrat, whose two years of study at the university were now complete. His first acquaintance was also made with Jordan of Saxony, then also a young student of the university. The story of his vocation to religion is -of singular beauty. He was accustomed every morning to rise for the matin service of Notre Dame ; and whatever might be the season or the weather, nothing ever detained him in his bed. One « These words are from Martene's history, and are an addition- al evidence of what we huve before alluded to as one of the prim- ary conditions of a religious community, according to the system of S. Dominic; namely, the " regular hoitst." INTERVIEW WITH ALEXANDER OF SCOTLAND. 155 morning, fearing he was late, he left his lodging in great haste, and hurried to the church-door, which he found shut, for the hour was still early. As he stood waiting to enter, a beggar solicited an alms, aud Jordan felt about him for his purse, but in haste he had left it in his room, and he had nothing to give. Sooner, however, than refuse an alms for the love of God, he stripped off a rich belt mounted in silver, which he wore after the fashion of the times, and gave it to the poor man. As he entered the church, and knelt for a moment before the great crucifix, he saw the same belt hanging round the neck of the figure, and at that moment a voice within him called him powerfully to the closer service of God. This call, and the desires to which it gave rise, pursued him without rest, and when he heard of the fame of Dominic, he resolved to lay the whole state of his soul before him. His counsel and direction restored his peace ; but he did not take the habit until Reginald of Orleans finally won him to the order by his eloquence. Another interesting incident of Dominic's visit to Paris, as connected with the history of the order in our own island, is his interview with Alexander II., king of Scotland. This monareh was then at the French capital for the purpose of renewing the ancient alliance of his crown with the royal house of France. The Princess Blanche, mother to St Louis, had a particular esteem for S. Dominic, and often invited him to her court, and there probably the Scottish king first met with the Patriarch of the Friars Preachers. We know nothing of the par- ticulars of their interview; but we are assured that he eagerly pressed the saint to send some of his brethren to Scotland, and promised them his fatherly and royal pro- tection. At what exact period this request was granted seems a little doubtful ;* but it is certain that Alexander did build several convents for the fathers in his kingdom, and always bore a singular love to the order. Eight religious were sent into Scotland, headed by one Father Clement, afterwards bishop of Dublin; and no less than *The Melross Chronicle assigns the year 1230 as the earliest date of the establishment of the order in Scotland. 156 LI] ' OP S. DOMINIC. eight monasteries "were founded in that country during the the reign of this prince. The period of his short visit being expired, Dominic once more took the road to Italy, accompanied only by William de Montferrat, and a lay brother who had come with him from Spain. All these long journeys were per- formed on foot, in the fashion of poor pilgrims ; and their rapidity, and the short rest he allowed himself, fill us with admiration for the energy and courage which they evince. His joyous and manly temperament of spirit bore him on in spite of all fatigues and dangers, and in those days footr-travelling over wild and uncultivated countries must have been plentiful in both. Passing through Burgundy, he arrived at Chatillon on the Seine, where he was charitably lodged by a poor ecclesiastic; but Dominic richly repaid his kindness, for whilst he was yet in the house, the news was brought him that his host's nephew had fallen from a high roof, and was being brought home dead. Dominic went to meet him, and restored him to nis parents alive and well. Other miracles of healing also marked his stay in the place, from whence he proceeded on to Avignon, where a little trace of his sojourn may yet be seen in a well, bearing an inscription to the effect that in 1219 the founder of the Friars Preachers blessed this water, which has since restored health to many sick persons. All Dominic's companions were not quite such good travellers as himself. We find that as they were making their way through the passes of the Lombard Alps, the strength and courage of poor Brother John, the Spanish lay brother, entirely failed him: overcome with hunger and fatigue, he sat down, unable to proceed further. The good father said to him, " What is the matter, my son, that you stop thus?" And he replied, "Because, father, I am dying of hunger." "Take courage, my son," said the saint , "yet a little further, and we shall find some place in which we may rest." But as Brother John replied again that he was utterly unable to proceed any further, Dominic had recourse to his usual expedient of prayer. Then he bade him go to a spot he pointed out, RETURNS TO ITALY. 157 and take up what lie should find there. The poor brother dragged himself to the place indicated, and found a loaf of exquisite whiteness, which, by the saint's orders, he ate, and felt his strength restored. Then, having asked him if he were revived, Dominic bade him take the remains of the loaf back to the place where he found it ; and having done so, they continued their route. As they went on, the marvel of the thing seemed to strike the brother for the first time. "Who put the loaf there?" he said; "I was surely beside myself to take it so quietly ! Holy father, tell me whence did that loaf come?" " Then," says the old writer, Gerard de Frachet, who has related this story, " this true lover of humility replied : ' My son, have you not eaten as much as you needed ?' And he said, ' Yes.' 'Since, then,' replied the saint, 'you have eaten enough, give thanks to God, and trouble not yourself about the rest/ " And now Dominic was once more on the Italian soil, which thenceforth he never quitted to the day of his death. It was the summer of 1219; only eight months had elapsed since he had quitted Rome, and within that space he had spread his order through the whole extent of Spain and France. His road was literally marked by new foun- dations ; we may trace it on the map by the convents that date their origin from this time. Asti, Bergamo, and Milan, all received him with marks of honour ; at Bergamo he was detained by a severe illness, which even compelled him to discontinue his abstinence and fasting — a fact noticed as almost unexampled in his life. At Milan he was welcomed as the messenger of God; the canon of S. Nazaire, in particular, received him with singular marks of affection, and three celebrated professors, all citizens of that place, received his habit. In company with these new brethren he set out for Bologna, where he arrived about the month of August ; but it is time for us to give some brief account of the progress of that convent since the period of his last visit to it in the preceding year. CHAPTER XXI. The Convent of Bologna. Effects of Reginald's preaching and government. Fervour of the Community of S. Nicholas. Conversion of Fathers Roland and Moneta. Dispersion of the brethren through the cities of Northern Italy. Reginald's novices. Robaldo. Bonviso of Placentia. Stephen of Spain. Rodolph of Faenza. Reginald is sent to Paris. Jordan joins the Order. Reginald's success - and death. The progress of the brethren of Bologna at their little convent of La Mascharella had been slow, and their diffi- culties and discouragements very great, up to the time of the arrival amongst them of Reginald of Orleans. As soon as he returned from the Holy Land, he set out for Bologna, according to his previous agreement with S. Dominic, and arrived there on the 21st of December, 1218. His presence caused an immediate change in the position of the friars; he held the authority of vicar-general in Dominic's absence, and his extraordinary powers of government, added to the brilliancy of that eloquence which so remarkably distinguished him, infused a fresh spirit into the community, whilst crowds of those who had before treated them with contempt now crowded about their church in hopes of catching the words of the cele- brated preacher. There was a certain vehemence of spirit about Reginald that carried all before him; very soon the church was too small to contain his audience, and he was compelled to preach in the streets and public piazzas ; the people came from all the surrounding towns and country to hear him, and the age of the apostles seemed to have returned. The fire of his words produced an astonishing effect on the hearts of all who listened ; and whilst a general change of manners was observed among all ranks, a vast number were kindled with a holy and impetuous enthusiasm, and feeling the call of God in their hearts, they turned their backs on the world, and S. NICHOLAS BELLE VIGNE. 159 eagerly demanded the habit of religion. " He was filled with a burning and vehement eloquence," says Brother Jordan, " which kindled the hearts of his hearers, as though with a lighted torch." Within six months Regi- nald received more than a hundred persons into the order: among them were several of the most distin- guished doctors and students of the university ; and it came to be a common saying, that it was scarce safe to go and hear Master Reginald, if you did not wish to take the friar's habit This rapid increase of the brethren soon rendered their habitation too small for them. Early in the spring of 1219, they removed to the church and convent of S. Nicholas delle Vigne, situated without the walls. Many miraculous signs had betokened the future sanctity of this place; angels had been heard singing over it by those who worked in the vineyards; and a kind of uni- versal tradition had pointed it out as some day to be a place of prayer and pilgrimage. The life led within its walls, under the government of Blessed Reginald, was a worthy fulfilment of these auguries. It was the strictest and most fervent realization of the rule of Dominic which has ever been seen. Many of the bre- thren closely imitated him in their nightly watchings and discipline, and in the devotions which were dear and peculiar to himself. At no hour of day or night could you enter the church without seeing some of the friars engaged in fervent prayer. After compline they all visited the altar, after the manner of their holy founder ; and the sight of their devotion, as they bathed the ground with their tears, filled the bystanders with wonder. After singing matins very few returned to bed ; most of them spent the night in prayer or study, and all con- fessed before celebrating the Holy Sacrifice. Their devotion to the Mother of God was of the tenderest kind. Twice every day they visited her altar, after matins and again at compline, walking round it three times, as they sang canticles in her honour, and recom- mended themselves and their order to her love and pro- tection. They held it a matter of conscience never to 1G0 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. eat till they had first announced the word of God to some soul. They also served in the hospitals of the city, adding the corporal to the spiritual works of mercy ; and in spite of the excessive austerity of their lives, it is said such was the joy of their hearts, shining out in their countenances, that they seemed none other than angels in the habit of men. The strict observance of the rule of silence practised among them is illustrated by the following anecdote. One night a friar, being in prayer in the choir, was seized by some invisible hand, and dragged violently about the church, so that he cried aloud for help. These disturbances, arising from diabolic malice, were very frequent in the beginning of the order ; and at the sound of the cry more than thirty brethren, guessing the cause, ran into the church and endeavoured to assist the sufferer, but in vain ; they too were roughly handled, and, like him, dragged and thrown about with- out pity. At length Reginald himself appeared, and, taking the unfortunate friar to the altar of S. Nicholas, he delivered him from his tormentor. And all this while, in spite of the alarm and horror of the circumstances, not one of those present, who amounted in all to a con- siderable number, ventured to speak a single word, or so much as to utter a sound. The first cry of the vexed brother was the only one uttered during the whole of that night. This admirable discipline was certainly attained and preserved by the practice of a somewhat rigid severity; yet its very sharpness attests the perfection which must have been reached by those who could have inflicted or accepted it. In the following anecdote, as given by Gerard de Frachet, the supernatural and passionless self- command exhibited by the chief actor, robs the story of that austere character which might make an ordinary reader shrink, and clothes it with a wonderful dignity and sublimity. A lay brother had committed a slight in- fringement of the law of poverty, and on conviction of his offence, refused to accept the penalty imposed. Reginald perceived the rising spirit of insubordination, and at once prepared to extinguish it. Causing the ROLAND OP CREMONA. 161 delinquent to bare his shoulders, he raised his eyes to heaven, bathed in tears, and calmly and gently, as though presiding in choir, pronounced the following prayer : — " Lord Jesus Christ, who gavest to thy servant Benedict the power to expel the devil from the bodies of his monks through the rod of discipline, grant me the grace to overcome the temptation of this poor brother through the same means. Who livest and reignest, with the Father and the Holy Spirit, for ever and ever, Amen." Then he struck him so sharply that the brethren were moved to tears, but the penitent was reclaimed, nor did he ever again relapse into a similar fault. This sort of chastisement was a very ordinary means which he used to deliver them from the assaults of the devil ; yet we should err if we attributed to him a harsh or tyrannical spirit. It was a severity wholly compatible with the sweetness which formed a peculiarity of his character; for the very tenderness of his love towards his children was the cause of that severity he showed against the enemy of their souls. They certainly never looked on it in any other light, for he was beloved as a father, and the fame of his strict discipline did not keep multitudes from embracing it as their surest guide to heaven. The first who joined the order after the arrival of Reginald, was Roland of Cremona, the public Reader 01 Philosophy at the University. His coming was most oppor- tune, for the brethren were then still suffering from the old spirit of discouragement ; and in spite of the presence of Reginald among them, some had even resolved on quitting the order. They were assembled in Chapter, engaged in earnest and sorrowful conference, when the door suddenly opened, and Roland appeared among them and impetuously demanded the habit. Reginald, yielding to a sudden inspiration, took off his own scapular and flung it over his shoulders. The incident seemed to restore the spirit and courage of the whole assembly, and the fame of Roland's conversion was the means of inducing many of his former companions to take a similar step. Another remarkable conversion was that 162 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. of Brother Moneta, also a professor of the University, but a man who, until the coming of Reginald, had been wont to ridicule all religion, and to live without any of its restraints. Hearing of the wondarful effects of the new preacher's eloquence, he feared to expose himself to its influence, and kept away. One day, however, being the feast of S. Stephen, some of the scholars endeavoured to carry him with them to hear the preaching. Not liking to refuse, and yet unwilling to comply, Moneta proposed that they should first hear Mass at S. Procolus. They went, and stayed during three Masses, till, unable to delay longer, Moneta was obliged to accompany the others to Santa Maria, where Reginald was then deli- vering his sermon. The doors were so crowded that they could not enter, and Moneta remained standing on the threshold. But as he stood there he could command a view of the whole scene, and every word reached his ear. A dense mass of people filled the church, yet not a sound broke the words of the preacher. He was speaking on the words of S. Stephen, the saint of the day: "Behold, I see heaven open, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God." " Heaven is open to-day also," he exclaimed ; " the door is ever open to him who is willing to enter. Why do you delay 1 Why do you linger on the threshold ? What blindness, what negligence is this! The heavens are still open!" And lo! as he listened, Moneta's heart was changed and conquered. As Reginald came down from the pulpit, he was met by his new penitent, who abandoned himself to his direction, and after remaining in the world under probation for a year, he was received to the habit, and became himself the founder of several convents. His after holiness equalled the irregularity of his former life. He died full of years and of merit, and, it is said, blind from his constant weeping. It was in his cell that the great patriarch breathed his last, as we shall hereafter relate. Such was the position of the community of Bologna, when Dominic again appeared among them. His first act was to make a renunciation of certain endowments which had been made over to the convent by a citizen of BROTHER ROBALDO. 163 the place. Dominic tore the contract in pieces with his own hands, declaring they would rather beg their bread than depart from their law of poverty. His next step was one which perhaps a little moderated the joy caused by his presence ; it was another dispersion of the society so newly gathered together. Religious were sent to every one of the towns where, as he passed through on his late journey, he had prepared the way for their reception; and in a few weeks, Milan, Bergamo, Asti, Verona, Flor- ence, Brescia, Faenza, Placenza, and other cities of Tuscany and Lombardy, received little companies of the new apostles. There was, doubtless, a reason for this very extensive dis- persion of the order throughout the north of Italy , it may be found in the fact that that country was at the time overrun by the self-same destructive heresy of the Manicheans which had produced such desolating effects in France. This was the great enemy against which the Order of Friars Preachers had been raised to combat; and wherever it showed its head, Dominic knew that he and his faithful soldiers had a call to follow. If the community of Bologna was greatly reduced by these colonies sent to other cities, its numbers were soon made up by fresh acquisitions. Among those clothed by the holy father was Brother Robaldo, who afterwards became distinguished for his suc- cess against the heretics in the city of Milan. A somewhat amusing story is told of him when preaching there. The Manicheans then filled the city in great numbers, and treated the Catholic missionaries with the utmost insolence. As Robaldo was one day in prayer before the high altar of the church, a band of these miscreants determined to divert themselves at his expense, and sent one of their number in to practise a joke upon him. " Father," said the heretic, " I well know you are a man of God, and able to obtain whatsoever you wish by prayer ; I pray you, therefore, to make over me the sign of the cross, for I suffer from a cruel fever, and I would fain receive my cure from youi hands." Robaldo knew well the malice of his enemy, and replied, " My son, if you have this fever, I pray God to deliver you ; if you have it not, but are speaking lies, I pray Him to send it to you as a chastisement." The man m 2 164 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC, instantly felt the approach of the malady he had feigned, and cried, impatiently, "Sign me with the cross, I say, sign me; it is not your custom to send curses upon men, but cures." But Robaldo replied again, "What I have said, I have said; if you have it, may He deliver you; if not, you will surely have it." Meanwhile, the others stood at the door, laughing to see the saint, as they thaught, made a fool of; but their merriment was soon silenced,' when they saw their companion return to them with every symptom of the fever he had before pretended. The result of these circumstances was his own conversion, and that of his entire family; and Bobaldo, on his sincere penitence restored him to health, and received him and all his children into the communion of the church. Bonviso of Placentia, was another of the novices clothed at Bologna by the great patriarch. Before he was pro- fessed he was sent to preach in his own country, and very unwillingly he went, for his humility made him fear lest he should fail, and bring disgrace on the order. Dominic however, encouraged him, and said, "God's words will be in your mouth, my son ; go without fear, and do my will •" and Bonviso never felt afterwards any difficulty in preach- ing. He was one of those who gave their evidence on the canonization of the saint, and says that so long as he knew him he never slept save on benches or on the ground and never m any particular place; but sometimes in the church, sometimes in the dormitory, and often in the burial-place of the convent Stephen of Spain was another of the new disciples of the order ; his conversion was remarkable. He has lnmself described it, being at the time a student at Bologna. « Whilst I was there," he says, « Master Domi- nic arrived and preached to the students and others and I went to_ confession to him, and I thought he loved me One evening, I was sitting down to supper with my com- ponions, when two of the friars came to me, and said, Master Dominic is asking for you,' and I replied that I would come as soon as I had supped. But they repeat- ing that he expected me at once, I rose, and, leaving every- thing as it was, I came to S. Nicholas, where I found Master Dominic in the midst of a number of the friars FERVOUR OF THE COMMUNITY. 165 He turned to them, and said, ' Show him how to make the prostration,' and they having shown me how to do it, I made it, and he instantly gave me the habit of a friar preacher. I have never thought of this without astonishment, reflect- ing by what instinct he could thus have called and clothed me, for I had never spoken to him of the matter ; where- fore I doubt not he acted by some divine revelation." Stephen was another of the witnessess on the canonization, whose evidence is preserved among the other "Acts of Bologna." Another very distinguished member of the family of Bologna was Rodolph of Faenza, whom we notice here, though he entered the order at an earlier period. Some affirm that he acted as confessor to S. Dominic, and it is said that the saint, being at one period afflicted on account oi the withdrawl of some who had at first given themselves to God, Rodolph was granted a vision, wherein he saw our Lord and His Blessed Mother, who laid their hands on his head and comforted him ; after which they led him out to the shores of the river, and showed him a great ship as it were, laden with brethren dressed in the habit, and said to him, " Seest thou all these, Brother Rodolph ! They are all of thy order, and are going forth to fill and replenish the world." Rodolph acted as procurator to the convent ; and on one occasion, he made some trifling addition to the two dishes allowed by the rule ; this greately displeased Dominic, who himself never tasted but one ; and calling the procurator to his side, he whispered, " Why do you seek to bribe the brothers with these pit- tances?" And yet we are assured the addition to their ordinary fare was of the plainest kind. " Dominic's own dinner," adds Rodolph, "was so spare, and so quickly finished, that often, as he waited whilst the others des- patched their meal, he fell asleep for weariness, after his long vigils." Such were some of the brethren of the convent of S. Nicholas. Its reputation for sanctity came to be so great that men spoke of it as a kind of harbour of salvation ; as may be illustrated by the following beautiful story which is given us by Taegius and others. There was a certain 16G LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. cleric in Bologna of great learning, but devoted to worldly vanity, and to other than a holy life. Now, one night he seemed suddenly to be in the midst of a vast field, and above him the sky was covered with clouds, and rain fell in great abundance, and there was a terrible tempest. He, therefore, desiring to escape from the hail and light- ning, looked all arouud him to see if by any means he might find a place of shelter, but he found none. Then at the last he perceived a small house, and going to it he knocked, for the door was fast shut. And a voice spoke to him from within saying, u What wantest thou ?" And he said "A night's lodging, because of the great storm that is raging.' ' But the keeper of the house answered him, saying, " I am Justice, and this is my house ; but thou canst not cuter here, for thou art not just." Then he went away sad, and presently he came to a second house, and he knocked there likewise ; and the keeper answered and said, " I am Peace, but there is no peace for the wicked, but only to them of good will. Nevertheless, be- cause my thoughts are thoughts of peace, and not of afflic- tion, therefore I will counsel thee for what thou shalt do. A little way from hence dwelleth my sister, Mercy, who ever helpeth the afflicted : go, therefore, to her, and do even as she shall command thee." So he, continuing on his way, came to the door of mercy, and she said to him, " If thou wouldst save thyself from this tempest, go to the convent of S. Nicholas where dwell the Friars Preachers; there thou shalt find the food of doctrine, the ass of simplicity, the ox of discretion; Mary who will illuminate, Joseph who will make perfect, and Jesus who will save thee." And he, coming to himself, and thinking well on the words of Mercy, went quickly and with great devotion received the holy habit. The great talents and success of Blessed Reginald determined Dominic to remove him to Paris, in the hopes that he would do as much for the convent there estab- lished as he had done for that of Bologna. His departure was a severe grief to his brethren ; they wept as though torn from the arms of their mother ; but the expectations of their founder were fully realized in the short but HENRY OF COLOGNE. 167 brilliant career which awaited Reginald in the French capital. That marvellous eloquence, whose vehemence was so irresistible, while at the same time so far removed from mere human impetuosity, soon drew all to hear him. When he preached, the streets were deserted ; his holy life, too, so corresponded to his words, that men looked on him as an angel of God. " All judged him to be one come down from heaven," says an old writer ; and indeed the students and citizens of Paris were best able to appreciate the worth of one whose sacrifice to the cause of religion they had- witnessed with their own eyes. Matthew of France, the superior of the convent of S. James, who had himself been a student at Paris in former years, when Reginald was professor in the same university, asked him once how he, who had been used to so lux- urious and brilliant a life in the world, had found it possible to persevere in the severe discipline of their order. Reginald cast his eyes humbly to the ground. " Truly, father," he said, "I do not think to merit anything for that before the tribunal of God. He has given me so much consolation in my soul, that the rigours of which you speak have become very sweet and easy " And this, indeed, appeared in all he did; for whilst he was constantly distinguished for the exceeding austerity of his life, he did all things with such a ready and joyful spirit that he taught men the sweetness of the Cross by the very light- ness with which he bore it. Among the disciples whom he drew into the order, and who received the habit at his hands, was Jordan ot Saxony. We have already spoken of his first vocation to religion, but he did not finally determine on taking the habit until overcome by the persuasions of Reginald. He brought with him a near and dear friend, Henry of Cologne, then canon of Utrecht. "A man," he says, " whom I loved in Christ, with an affection I never gave to any other; a vessel of perfection and honour, so that I remember not in all my life to have seen a more gracious creature." They lodged in the same house, and followed their studies together ; and Jordan, whose mind was always full of the thoughts of that vocation which 168 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. he himself had not as yet obeyed; often spoke of it to his friend, and endeavored to persuade him to form a similar determination. Henry con »tantly rejected the idea; Jordan as constantly persevered in his arguments and per- suasions. He has left us an account of the result, given in his most beautiful style: — "I made him go to Blessed Reginald to confession, and when he came back, opening the prophet Isaiah by way of taking counsel, I fell on the following passage: — ' The Lord made me to hear His voice, and I did not resist him: I went not back.' And as I interpreted the passage, which answered so well to the state of my own heart, we saw a little further on the words, 'Let us keep together/ which, as it were, warned us not to separate from one another, but to consecrate our lives to the same object." "Where are now those words 'Let us keep together ?' " wrote Henry some years after, in a letter to his friend. " You are at Bologna, and I at Cologne!" But this was the Dominican law of dispersion. A vision completed the conquest of Henry. He saw Christ sitting in judgment, and one by his side cried to him, and said : — " You who stand there, what have you ever abandoned for God?" Filled with trouble at this saying, his soul was torn by a short and agonizing struggle. He desired, yet he could not resolve on the sacrifice. At length, he sought Reginald, and, yielding to the powerful impulse with which God was drawing his heart in spite of himself, he made his vows in his hands. When he returned to Jordan, "I saw," says the latter, "his angelic coun- tenance bathed in tears, and I asked where he had been ; he answered, ' I have made a vow to God, and I will perform it.' " They were both clothed together at the close of Lent ; but a singular revelation had pre- viously declared to Jordan the death of Reginald, and something of his own future destiny in the order. On the night that blessed man departed to God, towards the commencement of the month of February, he saw in his sleep a clear and sparkling fountain suddenly spring up in the chnrch of S. James, and as suddenly fail ; and as he grieved, understanding the vision to predict the DEATH OF REGINALD. 169 untimely death of Reginald, a clear stream of water took the place of the fountain, and flowed on in immense waves till it filled the world. It was a fit emblem of his own future career, so abundant in its fecundity that he is said to have clothed a thousand novices with his own hand. Among Reginald's disciples, during his life at Paris, may also be mentioned, Robert Biliber Kilward, an Eng- lishman, who afterwards became archbishop of Canterbury under Edward I., and cardinal of the Roman Church. He was reckoned one of the greatest theologians of his age, as well as a distinguished minister of state ; yet in all his dignities he never laid aside his religious dress or character, made his journeys on foot, and lived in the utmost simplicity of holy poverty, reckoning his profession, as a friar preacher, the greatest of all dignities lavished on him by fortune. Reginald's death took place in the early part of the March of 1220. When the physicians declared the hope- lessness of his case, Matthew of France came to announce their decision to him, and to propose that he should receive the sacrament of Extreme Unction : "I do not fear the assault of death," he replied, "since the blessed hands of Mary herself anointed me at Rome. Never- theless, because I desire not to make light- of the Church's sacraments, I will receive it, and humbly ask that it may be given to me." His body was laid in the church of Sainte-Marie-des-Champs, and though he has never been solemnly beatified, the veneration which was paid him may be gathered from the prayers and hymns in his honour which may be found in the ancient office-books of the order. He was undoubtedly one of its greatest men, to whom there has hardly been done (sufficient justice. In him might be seen the rare union of human genius and heroic sanctity; and even when the super- natural element had taken possession of every capacity of his soul, it consecrated them without destroying any of his fervour and richness of imagination, or the force and impetuosity by which it manifested itself in his preaching, and which gave him such a magical power over the hearts 170 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. of his hearers. These dazzling gifts once placed the world at his feet, but he was happy above so many of his fellows r in that he made no other use of its homage and its smiles than to offer them to God. None, perhaps, ever made a nobler sacrifice, or felt that it cost him less ; and he may stand to all ages an example of the rarest of all the miracles of grace, a soul of consecrated genius. The spirit of a saint may be said to multiply itself, and to survive in his disciples ; and in the distinctive graces exhibited to us in them we have another means ol estimating the character of their founder, besides what is afforded us by the study of his own life. Or rather we might say the truest judgment will be formed by a comparison of the founder and his disciples; and when we find any one trait of the former caught up and repeated over and over again in those who came after him, and whose supernatural life was formed on the model of his own, we may safely conclude that the similarity is no accident, but the result of some great principle which had struck deep root in his soul, and spread its branches far and wide over his followers. Now if this be so, we can scarcely fail to be struck with one peculiarity in the history of these early companions of Dominic which will surprise us, if we have any share in the popular prejudice which attaches to his name. We might have expected, along with much zeal and fervour, to have found some traces of that stern fanaticism which is attributed to him and his order, betraying itself like a hereditary malady in the ranks of the Friars Preachers. But as we search for illustrations of bigotry or gloom, or of a fierce and bloody vindictiveness, we lose ourselves, as it were, in a garden of sweetness. Gathered from all states of life — knights, courtiers, professors, men of the world, peni- tents, and saints — the novices of Dominic, so soon as his spirit has breathed over them, display to our gaze amid many varieties, one trait of which has the indescribable peculiarity of a family likeness. It is sweetness : that quality of which it is said, in the Book of Ecclesiasticus, "Accomplish your works with sweetness, and you shall CHARACTERISTICS OF THE ORDER. 171 draw the love and esteem of men." We see it first in the great founder himself, of whom it is said, " None did ever resist the charm of his intercourse, or went away from him without feeling himself the better." It spoke in his low sonorous voice ; nay, it might be seen in the very splendour of his starry forehead, and in the beauty of that counte- nance, which every one who gazed on it described as full of joy and hilarity. And yet, we are told, he often and easily wept, but only when moved by the sufferings of others ; nay, so tender was his heart that he could not think of human misery as he gazed over a distant city without being touched to tears. This tenderness of spirit was the hereditary birthright of his children. There was Reginald of Orleans, winning men to penance against their will ; and Henry of Utrecht, that "gracious creature," as Jordan calls him, with the joy of Grod painted on his angelic countenance, and whose voice breathed the odour of a childlike innocence. There was Jordan himself, whose simple bonhomie of cha- racter is perhaps as delightful as any of them ; who could tranquillize disturbed consciences by a look, who was severe only to those who were severe to others, and whom we find taming and playing with the wild ferrets on the road as he journeyed, in the overflowing tenderness and kindness of his heart. Of another we read, that as he prayed in the garden, his looks were so gentle, that timid birds would come and perch on his outstretched arms. And whole volumes might be written of their deaths. Of numbers it is related that they died singing. In the convent of Vincenza we find a brother who, after "singing versicles to the Blessed Virgin, with wondrous delightsomeness, signed to his companion to rejoice also with him, saying, 'Brother, do not think it strange, but it is impossible for me not to sing of the love of Mary.' Then after a while he opened his eyes again, and said oftentimes with much jubilation, 'Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord ;' and so, with a smile, expired." Father William of Anicy, as he lay dying, was visited by the angels, who visibly appeared to the bystanders; and one of them bent over his bed and 172 LIFE OF S. DOMINIC. kissed his rorehead, a grace he had deserved by hi3 angelic life and conversation. There was John of Gas- cony, a a very marvel of sanctity, who, like the swan, sang as he was a-dying; sweetly repeating with his last breath, ' Into Thy hands, Lord, I commend my spirit. Alleluia ! For Thou hast redeemed me God of truth ! Alleluia ! Alleluia ! ' " Then again we find other stories of their special earnestness in the work of peace. F. Ro- baldo, for instance, seemed to have a vocation for the healing of quarrels and feuds. He worked miracles to make men forgive one another ; but perhaps his own angelic temper had a greater magic in it than his miracles. A young Milanese noble had been slain by his feudal enemy, and the two surviving brothers had vowed revenge. Robaldo, after having in vain en- deavoured to appease one of them, took him by the hand and commanded him not to move till he had promised peace. He instantly lost the power of motion, and whilst he stood thus his other brother came to the spot, uttering curses and imprecations, and binding him- self by oaths never to rest till he had steeped his sword in the blood of the murderer. And yet neither of them could resist the sweetness of Robaldo, and it ended by his sending them to the house of their enemy to dine with him, and bringing all three next day to the consent church, to bury all their differences at the foot of the altar. Then there was our own Lawrence; called blessed because of his blessed temper, and known through Spain and France as the reconciler of enemies." In short, turn where we will, we find the feet of these true preachers "shod with the preparation of the gospel of peace." They were all shaped after one likeness, even that of their holy patriarch : " benign, merciful, patient, and sober, not giving cursing for cursing, but rather blessing those that cursed." Such are the words of Bonviso of Placentia. These we repeat were no fanatics; the pages of our own history will furnish us, in the followers of Cromwell, or Argyle,* with a portrait of fanaticism never to be found among these Friars Preachers ; and when we have JOURNEYS THROUGH ITALY. 173 been compelled to grant them the character of saints, it will perhaps startle us to know that many of these very men bore also the dreaded title of Inquisitors. We must not close this chapter without noticing the foundation at Bologna of a convent of women, which was begun through the means of Diana of Andala, one of S. Dominic's spiritual daughters. Her extraordinary constancy and resolution overcame all the obstacles opposed by her friends; and eventually her own father became one of the most liberal supporters of the new house. Cecilia and Amy, the two sisters of S. Sixtus before named, were removed from thence to Bologna in 1223, and all three lie buried in the same grave, where their remains have been twice discovered, and honourably translated. —